Lacking Fragments: A Novel (Completed)

Chapter I: Mirror, Mirror from the Mall

PART TWO

1. Mirror, Mirror from the Mall

In the living room, where my family and I stay, watch TV together, before we go to bed—of this I seemed to forget to tell earlier—there hung a mirror placed between the kitchen and the said entertainment leisure. A vintage one, on the first floor; inheritance from my wife's grandmother. A quite old mirror with age of thirty to forty years; an object alive for decades and more, according to its origin told by my wife. And yet, time arrived when she decided to get rid of it. Completely. A decision she opened to me early November, in due to the mirror's outspreading rot.

     My wife raised this matter only once, when she got home from work. She said we needed to buy new one, just a same-sized mirror, since the outer material of what we own began to decompose.

     Still, no one can erase our history using this old mirror. For years, it had been helpful to us in everyday lives, for us to see our reflection before we face the world outside. Every now and then, during weekday mornings, we'd look at it before I bring Kiki to the elementary school; while, on another social aspect and professional, my wife herself had to see if what she's wearing looks appropriate before commuting to work. Personally, speaking generally, what I learned from mirrors is that they help us to take a look at ourselves. Our outside appearances; introspectively, even. Mirrors help us to look— knowing it's fundamental makes a person aware of oneself, before one shows himself or herself to the world.

     I remember back then, when I wasn't working under a company yet, that I didn't care as much of what and how I looked to other people and myself. As a college student—a Philosophy major in particular—I only wore what clothes were available inside my personal cabinet. I didn't bother dressing fancy, nor did I think if I should buy some in the supermall. I was a college student who wasn't working part-timer. Only I depended to my minimal amount of stipend, all from my scholarship. I had to deal with what I had. At the time it was simpler times, really. So simple I had no memorable moments from my college life, in all honesty. Then the next thing I knew, after every requirement was told by our professors and done, I found myself entering the vast business world, from smaller ones up to corporations, until my timely retirement.

     Unlike my studying years in college, the manager (during my job as a Quality Control Assistant) required us employees to suit appropriately during business hours. To every employee, it is like a prayer at night. Aside from behaving ethical around your fellow workers, it is a mandatory code for every corporate business: wearing appropriate. In every job, in every position, of course you have to wear something that won't turn off your boss, coworkers, and the customers. You have to appear to be pleasing to the eyes, or else you would either get rejected or fired. In the business world, to us men, wearing a suit and tie is as important as heavy breakfast. It's primary. One can't just wear something indecent and expect to be accepted or promoted in a company. You, and you alone, are much required to belong in the standard. Although, aside all this information, I only have one point to clarify. In the real world—be it business or plain social—it's essential to know the clothes you wear; to know how you look, and for it to recognize you would have to have a mirror.

     Going back, eventually, our old mirror in the living room was replaced.

     The replacement began when my wife bought anew from the Department Store a week ago, when we had visited the supermall. I, as the only man in the small family, had to take in charge of holding the new item until we reach our home. At my age I still seemed to handle fragile things quite carefully. I might be so rickety now, but when my wife Annalise was watching, I'd been doing my best to be careful. I also set the mirror up myself in the living room— I unhung the vintage mirror; I put it on the house's attic, then I replaced it with the new. Then as for its outcome, I saw my wife and my daughter, altogether, clapped their hands and smiled in delight. "This is classy," said Kiki as comment, pertained to the mirror sold from the supermall. As for my wife, she said the newly bought mirror made our house a little afresh.