The bathroom mirror, usually a fleeting acquaintance, now held a captive audience of three. My reflection, still unmistakably Michael, stared back, a canvas awaiting transformation. Melanie, perched on the counter, swung her legs, a glint of mischief in her eyes. Mum, armed with an arsenal of brushes and palettes, surveyed me like a sculptor eyeing unworked clay.

“Right, let’s get this show on the road,” Mum announced, her voice a blend of determination and theatrical flair.

She dabbed a cool, liquid primer across my forehead. Its scent, faintly floral, tickled my nose.

Chapter 4

That night, it took a long while for me to go to sleep. The morning would be two weeks since I had discovered his body, and Tom had filled the days since with his spirit. As I laid in the dark, idly scratching a dogs head, I thought about the clues that had been left. A small boy bullied and called a queer, who had grown up gay and finding love with a larger man. It all fitted a profile.

Tamsin and Josie became a team mostly because of their being together 24/7. Even though Tamsin was Elenora’s niece, she wasn’t that close with her aunt. Tamsin was very much her own woman.

The antiseptic tang of the living room haunted the air, a faint ghost of the hospital ward. Melanie, propped on the sofa, a patchwork quilt draped over her plaster-encased leg, flipped through a magazine. Her ankle throbbed, a dull ache that resonated with the silence hanging between her and Mum.

I lingered in the doorway, the scent of burnt toast from my failed breakfast attempt clinging to my jumper. They hadn't noticed me yet. Their voices, hushed and conspiratorial, floated from the other side of the room.

I looked at myself in the big mirror on the back of the door.

Another Country -9-
by Erin Halfelven

Brown sat off to the side, an outsider. Not family, not friend. Not Catholic. In the packed assembly, gathered together to celebrate a life, to mourn a death, he felt alone.