The Broken Mirror

All I Want For Christmas... Is to Be Left Alone

I don't know if it is being homesick or fear but looking up at the height of my childhood home has me feeling overwhelmed. I take a deep breath and enter the familiar foyer of my New York City home. It's been more than six months since I've been here.

The doorman winks and greets me with the warmest, "Hello, Ms. Alexander." I catch up with him, hoping to stall having to go upstairs. When I can no longer wait, I get into the elevator and slide my key in and press the button for one of the penthouses. It rides up and lands on my floor.

The floors and walls are still a pristine white, with black molding and silver vases everywhere with the most beautiful plants. Only my family lives on this floor. Before I can open the door, it flies open with my father standing there.

"Merry Christmas Si!" My dad yells when he sees me. I run up to him and hug him. Things have gotten better with him since Thanksgiving. We speak to each other every day and he's been sending me demos and things to new projects. Later, today he said we would go to the studio to record music for next year's Christmas album.

I walk inside the apartment and it looks like a Winter Wonderland. My mother is hounding the staff about where to put things. Tomorrow is our annual Christmas eve party. It will be the most elitist looking shindig you will ever see. Billionaires and Millionaires partying, pretending they understand the meaning of Christmas when it is just a time for them to get as materialistic as possible.

"I see she's in Christmas Craziness phase," I say.

"When isn't she in a crazy phase?" My father jokes. I giggle at his response. I am quite sure he still loves her, but their marriage is more a business arrangement now. She manages him, he helps to elevate her status in life. They are friends, though, which I guess is what keeps the relationship together. They never look unhappy with each other, but that is in recent years.

"I am going to go into my room before she spots me and makes me decorate," I half-joke. She would start making me decorate.

"Good idea! I won't tell her you're here just yet," he promises. I giggle, again, and give him one more hug. I walk down the hallway to get to my bedroom. I walk past Calypso's door and stop. I take a deep breath and open the door to her bedroom.

A person would think she still lived here. Nothing was moved in her room from the day she died. Even her laundry was left in her hamper. It is a makeshift museum for her life. The need to feel numb overwhelms me. Why did I drive home that day? Maybe, if I hadn't fought her, she would still be here. They said her heart was too weak.

Her heart was going through it with the Adderall and Bulimia she suffered from. It was a simple surgery. I should be dead. She should be mourning me right now. She was not driving. I deserve to be the one dead, not her, and that's what was going to happen. I touch where my scar is. I feel an arm wrap around me, and a chin sits on top of my shoulder.

"I missed you, too bro," I quietly say to him. I can feel him smiling on my shoulder.

"Oh, I know. You tell me every day," he responds. In a somber voice he says, "and I miss her." I turn and kiss his cheek. I grab his hand and pull him to his room.

"Okay, the Christmas party is tomorrow. You know the deal, I need to be caught up on all the gossip because I will be stuck with all of New York's richest vultures," I say sitting on his bed. He fills me in on everything that has been going on. "The last thing, I need to know, what's it going to be like for me tomorrow?" I used to not care about what they thought of me, but something changed.

"You are the juiciest gossip; I can say that. You deserve your own hashtag, there has been so much buzz," he tells me.

"That's what I have been worried about."

"You could not show," he suggests to me. I shake my head no.

"Dad already warned me that I have to sing. Which means, not happening."

"I was trying to help."

"I need a nap, I have been up since three in the morning," I tell him. I get up and head to my room for a much-needed nap.

I climb off his bed and head to my bedroom. I change out of the sweats I wore on the plane. I take a nice long relaxing shower and jump into my bed. I take the best nap with no alarm set. Then my phone begins to ring. I push at it half-sleep, not wanting to answer. I look down. It's Gabrielle.

"Giiiirrrlll, I gotta talk to you," she says before I can even say hello.

"What you need?" I ask her groggily.

She just starts talking, ignoring that I sound half-sleep. She usually doesn't care. "X is driving us insane. He's been mean to us since finding out you weren't here for Christmas." She has been pushing me to talk to him while pretending to respect my wishes. She comes to my house more to watch movies. When I am over there, he ignores me or stays in his room. So, I don't understand her comment. I feel like she's over exaggerating his attitude.

"He has been ignoring me when I am at your house, so why does that matter?" I say to her.

"I don't know. You never told me what happened that day between you two."

"Oh, the day I still owe you a beat down for?"

"b***h, please, you are grateful!"

"Nothing happened."

"Oh s**t, you friend-zoned him," she exclaims over the phone and I laugh.

"He's not even in the friend-zone. Can we talk about something else or should I hang up?"

"Fine! Fine!" We talk about everything and anything that is not Xavier.

"You'll be back in time for New Year's, right?" She asks me.

"Yes, I would not miss bringing in 2019 with my favorite people. I promised my fam a holiday. Just one," I say. We talk a little bit more about what all they are doing for the party. She seems so happy that I will be back for the party. "Aw, do you miss me?"

"Yes! But also cause living with Xavier has been unbearable, because you have bewitched him like the siren you are."

"Not my problem! Bye love!" She tells me bye. I hang up the phone and lay across my bed. All I can think about is Xavier and why he wants to be with me. He is better off without me. I've convinced myself of this. I would only bring him harm, but at the same time, I can't help but think about what he looked like without his shirt. What it felt like to run my hands on his chiseled back. Worst of all, when he is around, I don't feel as broken. I don't feel like a monster that everyone else views me as.

"Siren!" I hear my name called by my mother. I groan. I lay there for another second and she calls my name again. I growl this time out of frustration. I get up and leave my room to find her. I find her in her lounge room and stand at the entrance.

"Yes, mother."

"You mean mom."

"Rebecca, why did you call me?" She frowns at me.

"I bought you a dress for tomorrow night, and I need you to sing All I Want for Christmas Is You and Silent Night," She informs me. I raise an eyebrow to her unusual kindness.

"I was hoping to re-wear what I wore last year for Christmas," I joke. She gives me the coldest scowl.

"Wouldn't that make for a better Halloween costume? I think the orange would clash," my father jokes as he approaches me.

"It's not funny James. I picked the dress because I want to make sure you wear something acceptable. Like, I don't want to see what you have on now, tomorrow," she tells me. I have on high-waisted jeans with a button-up flannel shirt that I have tied above my jeans. I have my hair up with a scarf on. I think I look riveting if you ask me.

"Please tell me, it's time to record," I ignore her and speak to my father instead.

"That's why I was coming to get you."

"My savior!" I yell and I turn to walk out of her lounge.

We go across town to the recording studio. When I walk in, his band is there along with a massive orchestra. He already told me we are recording O Come, O Come Emmanuel. We warm up our voices while the orchestra rehearses and records a couple of times before we record with them.

The orchestra takes the song to dramatic heights. I must rely on my classical training for this. My father starts off the song for one verse and then I sing the next. Our vocals harmonize together as we belt out this Christmas hymn. I miss this. Being able to record with him, is making me rethink a lot of things. Like I was about to give up on this.

I was never someone searching for a purpose. I knew mines was music. All aspects of music, singing, writing, playing instruments, especially dancing. Dancing is something I have not done in so long. No, I've been searching for love, to feel like I mattered to someone. The irony of it all, that I usually acted like I did not care how people felt about me, but the fact that I'm searching for genuine love, is probably what has hardened my heart.

I feel incapable of loving someone back. I can give my all to music. It loves me back and expresses who I am as an individual. I can lose myself in it, whether I am playing an instrument, singing or dancing. It is who I am. So, I stand in this recording booth singing with my father, repeatedly, to get the best takes. He and other music engineers will get together and produce a work of art.

When it is over, we listen to the rough version. It sounds amazing and they haven't even done anything with it.

"You sure you don't want to get back into music? You were so serious," my father says to me. I hug him while listening. This to me was the best Christmas present.

"I'll think about!" I say to him. He kisses my forehead and we head home.

The next morning, before I can even get breakfast, I see his band setting up for rehearsal. My dad hands me some licorice tea and I take a sip. It warms up my vocal cords.

"I'm not allowed to eat?" I ask him. He shows me the spread of fruits and veggies to eat. I tell the man I might want to get back into singing and he's already taken my bagel and dairy. He has me singing the song we just recorded last night. He's singing a few songs. I sing Silent Night and then I end the night with All I Want for Christmas is You.

My mother watches us rehearse and I try and pretend she is not there. I talk to his bandmates and catch up on all their lives. They've seen me grow up. The backup vocalists and I come up with a little bit of choreography for the last song so that it's more fun.

"So, I have someone coming to do hair and make-up," my mother says to me. I scrunch up my face, I know what that means.

"What magazine do you have coming?" I ask her. She knew I wouldn't have done this if I knew. Is it just my mother who does too much? "As long as I get to make style decisions."

"Please be on your best behavior," she says to me. I roll my eyes. What does that mean?

After rehearsal, I take one more nap and then Apollo wakes me up so I can get hair and make-up done. They do exactly what I ask for. I can hear the band doing soundcheck while I'm getting ready. They give me a hairstyle that looks like something Veronica Lake would've worn. They put on these long eyelashes and wing my eyeliner. Most of my makeup looks very natural, and of course a bold red lip. They do my nails and make them semi-long with crystals and pearls on them.

I see the dress my mother wants me to wear and I'm partially happy. It's kind of work with what I like to wear, but I still feel like I look like a sexed-up Mrs. Clause, which is what I was afraid of. I get into it. It fits like a glove and maybe I won't hate my mother tonight.

It is a tradition for us to stand at the door while our guests are arriving. I plaster a fake warm smile on my face as I greet our guests. My parents have hired more servants than we already have.

"There is our beautiful girl! Heard a rumor you will be singing tonight," Roxanne Smith says, walking in with Mr. Smith and Tyler. I hold back the desire to roll my eyes when I see Tyler.

"Oh yes! My dad knew exactly how to get me here," I say laughing with her. I think I might get into acting with how forced I feel.

"I just wanted to say, I truly loved your friends," Roxanne says to me.

"That makes only one of us," Tyler barely whispers.

"Aren't they awesome? I can't wait to get back and be with them. It's always nice to have REAL genuine friends," I say smirking at Tyler. His face just tells me to shut up.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you," he tells me. I try not to laugh in his face remembering what Xavier did.

"I didn't receive anything, must've gotten a wrong number." I give him a devilish smile, that is definitely not fake. They walk further into the apartment as others come in to greet us.

"If it's not the infamous Siren Alexander," Chris exclaims coming through the door.

"What makes me infamous?" I say with winking at him.

"You have always been nothing but a scandal, especially when you dress like this." I rest my hands on his chest and kiss his cheek sweetly. "Behave yourself... my girlfriend will be walking in at any minute with my parents."

"You moved on from me?" I ask pretending to be hurt. He laughs at my poor acting.

"No one can move on from Siren Alexander..."

"So, do I know the lovely girl who stole your heart?" He shakes his head no. I hug him one more time and he walks away. More people walk into the apartment for us to greet. My mother steps over to me.

"I had wished you had gotten with Chris. He will be inheriting his father's company soon," she informs me.

"Mother, he was just a good f**k," I respond to her, not amused with her medaling with my love life. Well, non-existent. I walk away from her, leaving her stunned from my bluntness. I smile at our guests as I get tired of greeting people. A servant passes me with trays of delicious food, and I grab one.

"Is that Siren Alexander I see?" I hear Abigail say. I turn to her and run to her and hug her.

"Abigail Van der Wise!" I say excited and then I see Laura walk up behind her. With no enthusiasm, "and Laura O'Reilly." She looks exactly like the green-eyed monster I remember.

"Alexander," she responds to her name. It sounded like she was greeting me, but it was cold.

"You look absolutely stunning," Abigail exclaims. Laura raises an eyebrow at me. What did Laura expect me to look like, a strung-out drug addict?

"You look like a goddess. What have you been doing?" I ask Abigail ignoring Laura's presence.

"Well, gotta stay fit for my followers. I swear by CrossFit and Paleo, and tons of meal prepping that my personal chef does for me daily," she explains. Yes, it sounded just as pretentious as your imagining. Gabrielle loves shopping, but she would never sound this vapid.

"We don't see you online," Laura says to me. Her tone is full of accusation.

"So, you actually tried to stalk me?" I ask her. I am a weird member of gen-z, I don't use my social media like I used to. I have pages on everything, and it all halted after the accident. I grin at Laura because I can tell I threw her off.

"Well, you fell off the face of the Earth and then we heard the craziest rumors," Abigail tells me.

"Rumors?" They both nod their heads. My interest has been peaked.

"Like you had been locked up for insanity," Laura happily gossips.

"That you were supposed to go to prison and instead fled the country," Abigail tells me, which was close.

"That you tried to throw yourself off the Brooklyn Bridge," Laura finishes. That one is wild. Jumping to my death has never crossed my mind. I cringe at the crazy rumors. Sure, the truth is probably just as awful, but it is also none of their business what happened to me.

"Thank you for the info," I say to them.

"Time for dinner!" My father yells out to us. We go to the dining room to eat. Our penthouse takes up two floors. So, it's like living in a gigantic house, in a skyrise. We all eat dinner without incident, but I can feel all their eyes are on me. Soon, the press will be here for my dad's Christmas showcase. I can only imagine what they will say. James Alexander's daughter back from the dead will probably be tomorrow's headlines.

Once dinner is over, we all make our way to our small ballroom that the band is set up in. My father begins singing different Christmas carols. People sing along and sway to the music depending on the songs. He starts off with the fun stuff like Jingle Bell Rock. Eventually, he gets to Christmas hymns and I know soon I will be joining him for the song we just recorded.

"Thank you, everyone, before I finish up, I need my Siren to join me on stage to sing the duet we just recorded, yesterday," my father says to everyone's applause. I'm helped onto the stage and take the mic next to him. They play a backtrack of the orchestra and the band joins the track while we sing. People don't even try to sing with us, because of the vocalization of the song.

When the song is over, he leaves me to sing my two songs. I start with Silent Night, to keep up with the Christmas hymns as a nice transition from him to me. When I am done singing, people clap and whistle, making this feel like I should have never stopped singing, to begin with.

"So, we are almost done! I know you are all having fun, so we are going to switch gears, I need you all to sing and dance with me, on this last one, got it?" I tell the guests. They clap and whistle in response. I smile at them. The song starts off like it's a usual slow pace. "I don't want a lot for Christmas. There's just one thing I need," I begin to sing, nice and slow, with the cymbals and drums going for dramatic effect. When I finish the first stanza, I drag out the last note and the music picks up.

The crowd cheers and begins to move with me as I start to sing my heart out. The backup singers do our light choreography and sing. While I ham it up and have more fun than I thought I would. "Santa won't you bring me the one I really need. Won't you please bring my baby to me." My voice opens and allowing me to belt out the song as I dance to the fun song.

"Oh, I just want him for my own. More than you could ever know. Make my wish come true. Baby all I want for Christmas is you. All I want for Christmas is you, baby," I hold out you, while the backup singers repeat the last line in the song again. I start singing higher and higher with each breath as the song finishes until my voice hits the whistle note. The crowd goes wild and I bow and wave.

I wished my friends were here for this. I can't even gloat with them. Thankfully, Apollo recorded it for me and was sending it to my phone. It's not just my friends I wished was here, I must admit I wished Xavier was here. I need to get a grip, I let that ship sail.

The DJ takes over the music playing Christmas songs and songs on the radio, so the party can continue. Exhausted, I step back and drink water, while people fawn over me. Once they get tired, they leave to enjoy the rest of the festivities. I look at them all drink, knowing the drugs will follow soon. When they aren't drinking and taking drugs, I can feel their eyes on me. As if they know.

I try to find Apollo, but when I do, he's in a corner making out with his current girlfriend. I cannot go to my room or I will hear it all Christmas morning from my mother. I feel trapped at this party and I need someplace to breathe. Our balcony should be empty. It's December in New York. I walk outside to get air. I feel a hand on the small of my back. I turn to see Tyler looking down at me.

"You were awesome. Did I mention how much I love this dress on you?" He compliments me as I move to get his hand off my back. I can tell he is already drunk.

"Tyler... thank you, I guess." He gets uncomfortably too close to me and begins to play with my hair. If only Xavier was, here again, to save me from him.

"I've been thinking about you a lot since Thanksgiving," he tells me.

I shake my head at him. "I haven't been thinking about you. I try not to think about you because all it does is..." I cannot even finish saying what I need to say.

"You cannot tell me you don't still think about our kiss?" He says to me. I push his hand away and back away. I cross my arms over my chest.

"The kiss that killed my sister and almost killed me? Oh yeah, I think about how much of a mistake it was," I quietly yell at him.

"I am sorry, but I still feel the same way I did then. I didn't know."

"I don't want your apology. I want to be left alone. I want to enjoy Christmas in peace." I walk away to try and get back into the party and he follows me inside. He pulls on my arm to stop me. 

"Well, when you're ready to have fun..." he kisses my cheek and before I can think the palm of my hand collides with his face. The sound is loud and can be heard over everything. He grabs his face and cries out. Most of the guests stop and look at us.

"Siren!" My mother cries out approaching us. I watch as everyone begins to whisper. I push him away again and begin to walk off, not caring that I just slapped him in front of everyone.

"What is wrong with you? You can't slap our guests!" She yells at me.

"I'll slap whatever guests invade my personal space," I yell back with my hands on my hips. I look at all them with a threatening glare.

"Siren calm down."

"No. Actually, I want to give the people exactly what they came here for. It wasn't for your Christmas party or dad's showcase, but to see your deranged daughter."

"Siren you need to stop this right now."

"What's the matter, scared? So, I know you are all here to see whether the rumors are true. What happened February 16th, 2017? My parents have been wanting to keep this all secret because they worried about what you all think, but I don't give a f**k anymore. After today, I don't want to see any of you motherfuckers, again. See my mother wishes I was the one who was dead." The room goes deathly silent.

"Siren why are you doing this?"

"Oh, because you gave Tyler the asshole my phone number without permission, but I've never received a phone call from you. Do you know Calypso and I were both drunk in that car fighting because he had the f*****g nerve to kiss me at the party?"

My mother shoots him a look and his mother covers her mouth in disbelief. "Oh, yes Mrs. Smith, your son was trying to dump my sister for me. I bet he looked like the heartbroken boyfriend at her funeral." I turn my attention back to the crowd.

"I know the burning question on everyone's mind is where were you, Siren? Well, first I was arrested for first-degree vehicular manslaughter for being intoxicated while driving. While I was on bail, I drank and took so much Dilaudid and Fentanyl, which were the pain meds that I overdosed in the bathtub right in this very apartment. I ended up back in jail when I was well enough.

"With daddy's money and these amazing lawyers, I went from the big house to rehab. Then when it was all over and I was 'sober' my family shipped me to Tampa for a fresh start even though they were supposed to come with me. Did I miss anything? No? Okay, now mother enjoy cleaning this mess up and goodnight everyone!"

I run into the kitchen and find a couple of bottles of champagne and a nice large bottle of Greygoose. I lock myself in my bedroom. I can hear the chaos that ensued from my outburst. I pop open one of the bottles and stand in front of my mirror. I keep the image of my sister out of my head.

My heart begins to pound in my chest as I begin to sniff at the opening of the bottle. I wished I could've found something harder than what I found. I hope this does the trick. I hope I don't feel anything. I sit on my bed and continue to stare at the mirror lifting the bottle to my mouth.

"f**k sobriety!"