Mirror Lake

One

The door of the well-worn 2000 Chevy Tracker slammed shut, echoing loudly in the silence that filled the air. It wasn't the kind of silence you get from muting your television. It was the kind that closed in on you, creeping down your arms and making the hairs there quiver. It was this silence, broken, that made Jillian Foster jump as the car door shut behind her.

She stood still, and listened, as if waiting for something to happen. As if the sound might have caused a disturbance with something or someone, unseen. The nearly mirror-like water lapped at the pier quietly, the only thing indicating that time wasn't standing still. The lake was gray and thick with fog, reflecting the sky and creating an endless mirage.

Jillian sighed, her breath rolling from her lips like smoke, before disappearing into the mist. She shifted her weight, and the board beneath her ragged high-tops groaned. She suddenly worried that maybe parking on the aged pier hadn't been the best idea.

Great. With my luck, the whole fucking thing will collapse into the water and take the piece-of-shit car, and me, with it.

She rolled her eyes at the thought and carefully sat against the hood, being sure to avoid the disgusting streak that some bird had been kind enough to grace her with. Her lighter clicked as the end of her cigarette crackled to life, like a tiny fire. She took it in, like that first real stretch on a lazy morning. Catherine Foster's words echoed in her head.

"Those things are so disgusting. You smell like a bar."

Jillian took another drag, and breathed in the aroma. To her, it smelled comfortable and toasty. Like curling up with a cup of coffee on a cold day, and listening to the rain tickle the windows. It smelled good. However on this particular morning, they tasted like she had to meet with her parents for breakfast in an hour, and would much rather be floating face-down in the lake.

Not wanting to blemish the flawless water, Jillian opened the door of the car and a put the cigarette out in the ash tray. It was a poor decision, she concluded, when she noticed her phone was ringing. Catherine's name stood out on the screen like a big fucking omen. She debated ignoring it, but begrudgingly picked up the phone, sliding her thumb across the screen.

"Mom, you do realize we'll be seeing each other in less than an hour, right?"

She tried to sound less sarcastic than she felt; and failed.

"Well excuse me," her mother scoffed. "I just thought I might catch you in time to ask if you would please pick up some champagne for morning cocktails."

Cocktails? What, like some fancy prudes? Is the word 'cocktail' even used anymore?

Jillian bit her lip.

"Uhm... Yeah, sure, I guess. Isn't it a little early, though? For..."

Eye roll.

"...cocktails?"

Catherine sighed impatiently.

"Don't judge me, I'm your mother. And while you might be out of the house, your father will never leave. So I think I deserve a little boost in the morning." She paused. "I'll pay you back. Come on, it'll be nice."

Jillian shrugged and got into the car, turning the key until the ball of junk chugged to life.

"Yeah, alright. Love you, see you soon."

She wasn't sure if her mother had replied, on account of the music that suddenly poured from the speakers, but she hung up anyways and dropped the phone into her passenger seat. The car rolled along the pier, and past the wooden welcome sign.