A Voice In The Night by Brian Matthews Page B

approachable, as did the tentativeness of her smile.
    The morning sun slanted through the lace-curtained windows, awakening her abruptly, as it always did. Her bed was angled to take advantage of these first rays of day. As she swung her legs out over the floor, she vaguely noticed how tan and shapely they were. She walked absently toward the bathroom without the usual stiffness and aches that accompanied her first steps every morning. She felt surprisingly strong and agile. Then she confronted a familiar but unexpected face in the mirror.
    She was still dreaming. That was it. Dreaming of her youth. Then she knew that this was no dream. Both excitement and anxiety welled up in her that moment. She edged in closer to the image in the glass and felt the possibilities of another chance at a life that could be vacant of emptiness and longing. The face smiling back at her was the one from her dream. Firm and lean, smooth and unworn. Had she been this young once? It was like looking at an old photograph, only half-believing you had ever been so fresh and undamaged by time.
    Now she returned to the bedroom, moving with a lightness and grace she hadn’t felt in years. Margaret stripped off the nightgown and let it fall to the floor as she stood in front of the full-length mirror to see if this was really true. Yes. She knew this body, the nearly perfect symetry, the trim midriff, the erect and elegant posture her athlete’s muscles allowed. Convinced, she pulled the garment back on and headed toward Luke and Eileen’s, feeling the wet grass between her toes. An image from years ago flooded back to her from an early morning at the summer girls’ camp where she had been a lifeguard. She was walking toward the beach on a morning just like this, perfect cool, breaking sunlight, and thinking, “This is as good as life is ever going to be. As good as I’m ever going to be.” She drank in the moment back then, shivering a little at this instant of self-awareness.
    Today, as she hurried through her backyard toward the carriage house, she knew youth was hers again, to do with as she liked, to get it right this time. Luke had seen her coming from the kitchen window, and stepped outside smiling, his head cocked to the side, already understanding what had taken place. Margaret stood before him. “Can you believe this? Look at me.” She bent down and pulled up the nightgown without thinking.
    Luke started to laugh, and Margaret, realizing what she was doing, dropped the gown to cover herself and continued without pause or embarrassment. “I was just dreaming or something about having kids and a husband and everything and I woke up to this!” Luke guided her inside and motioned to the kitchen chairs. “I think this calls for some coffee and maybe breakfast, huh? And maybe I can explain what’s been happening.” Margaret shrugged. “I guess I kind of know. It’s part of this thing about choosing anything you want and living it. I don’t know how I know that, but I just do.” Luke walked behind Margaret’s chair and circled her with his arms. “I’m really happy for you, but this is gonna take getting used to. You’ve been like our west coast mom since we’ve been here and now you look like our sister.”
    “Well, I guess I’ll just have to be both.” Luke nodded at the idea. He manned the skillet, frying up bacon, then scrambling several eggs, the only thing he’d ever learned to cook. Margaret’s words careened on. There’d be new clothes to buy and maybe even new young men. But this time she’d know better how to choose, have clarity about what she wanted. It frightened and excited her, the prospect of starting over, armed with the experience of her years. The smells of breakfast brought Jeremy, sliding out of bed and stumbling into the kitchen, gripping his crotch because he had to pee. “The bathroom, honey. Pee first, then breakfast. And remember to flush.” He wobbled down the hall, and turned skidding into the