The Boy in the Mirror: Finding Love in the Strangest of Ways

by Bonny Capps

  I get up and walk up to my balcony door, I need some air. I turn the lock and step outside. The rain has ceased since last night leaving its watery path in the dips in the pavement. I breathe in the fall air. It smells new, compared to the familiar summer breeze. Ah yes, with each season brings a new beginning. Is this my new beginning? Not having Matthew? Talking to a mirror because I am going insane? Is this God's way of punishing me for my antics last night, leaving me with a pesky mirror? Oh, so many questions. Will I ever get the answers? In my deep thought, I am pulled away by tires rolling onto the driveway and see the red jaguar creeping up.

  Oh, just what I need, Satan is home. He better leave me the hell alone. I turn briskly and walk back inside. I crawl onto my bed and grab my mp3 player. I need something soft, smooth – calming. I put the ear buds in and close my eyes. I lie back in bed and become engulfed in the music. As I look up to change the track I am startled by ripples in the display of my mp3 player, I bolt upright and hurl it across the room, ripping the buds from my ears. It bounces off the wall and lands hard on the wood floor.

  DAMMIT! I hear the familiar sound of dad’s shiny shoes clunking up the stairs. The steps get closer and stop outside of my door. I see the shadow under the door. I hold my breath. I don't want to see him; I don't want to talk to him. Christ, I want absolutely nothing to do with him. In a sick way, I wish it was him in that hospital bed, not my mother. Even though she was absent, her presence brought me comfort.

  Finally he walks away, quietly. What is his problem? I jump as my phone lights up, vibrating wildly. I pick it up and recognize Matthew's face. Ugh, what does he want? I make the thoughtless decision to answer. I put the phone up to my ear. “Mandy?” Oh boy, his voice is husky. He sounds tired. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and rest my free hand on the edge. “Matthew.” I whisper, biting my lip to keep it from trembling. “I, uh... I just wanted to make sure you were – are OK?” His voice sounds shaky. “Yeah, I'm good.” I reply, God I wish that were the truth. He exhales loudly, has he been holding his breath? There are a couple moments of silence and finally he speaks, “Good. Good.” He pauses briefly and continues, “I just... um. I just want to know that you are OK, that we are OK... I miss you.”

  Tears form in my eyes; I am willingly pushing him away, when I really just want to burrow myself in his chest. My lips are quivering, I put the phone to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut, remembering what Fynn said, I am in love with a boy who doesn't love me back. I inhale and exhale deeply, calming myself. I put the phone back up to my ear as I wipe the tears away with my wrist, “Matthew I'm really busy right now. I really should go.” This conversation is getting more awkward and more painful by the second. “Yeah. OK Mands. I'll see you – soon, I hope.” He responds. “OK” My voice is so small, it deceives my perseverance. Before any other words can be spoken I take the phone from my ear and end the call. I tinker with the phone in my lap and put it face down on my night stand. I throw myself back, onto my soft down comforter and drift away.

  When I awake, the rain has come back; my dark room is illuminating with each bolt of lightning. I am curled up on my bed, my hair sticking to the side of my mouth where I have been drooling, attractive. I sit up on my elbow and wipe my mouth. I grab my phone from the night stand and sleepily slide my finger to awaken the led screen. It’s 3:46 AM. I sit up and rub my eyes. I am so thirsty – and hungry - really, really hungry. I throw my legs over the side of my bed and slip on my house shoes. I unlock my bedroom door and try opening it as quietly as possible, which is nearly impossible in this creaky old house.

  I make my way down the hall and catch a glimpse into my mother's room. I pause when I see my father laying a top the quilt, snoring his ass off, cradling his Wild Turkey as if he were protecting it. I shake my head and continue, slowly making my way down the stairs. I walk into the kitchen and open up the cabinet to retrieve a glass. I fill it with tap water and take a big gulp; oh my mouth was so dry. Food, now! I open the fridge and get out all of the fixings for a sandwich. I put together my masterpiece and sit at the bar. Oh it is so good, I literally inhale it. My stomach feels so full, but it must have shrunk quite a bit after days without food.

  I begin retreating back to my room when I stop in the entry. I look up and down the rows of pictures, my eyes resting on one of my mother and me when I was only a baby. I reach up and trace my fingers along the edges of her face. Her shiny hair is cascading over her shoulders, her eyes smiling and her perfect teeth. She has me close, cheek to cheek. My hazel eyes are big and filled with innocent wonder. My cheeks are chubby and I have a grin on my face, displaying a single tooth.

  A smile creeps across my face as I continue to trace the picture. Suddenly, a large bolt of lightning, followed by a huge rumbling of thunder makes me jump. But it is what I see when the lightening reflects in the protective glass of the photo. It was not me looking back at myself. It was someone different, a boy? I gasp and step away; just like that it’s gone and I bolt up to my room.

  Chapter Five

  I ‘m awakened by a knock on my bedroom door. When I look at the alarm clock I realize it’s already 11:45 AM. I hate sleeping in this late but I do feel rested. I am trying to collect myself when another knock on the door reverberating through my room, bouncing off the floors. I slip my feet into my house shoes and throw on my robe. I turn the lock and open the door partially.

  My father stands at the entrance, resting his hand on the frame, his arm extended. What does he want? His eyes are bloodshot as he looks down at me with an odd expression, what I assume is sadness or regret? He is so hard to read. I rest my head on my door, my face expressionless. He parts his lips and then closes them. Well? What is it? He sighs and looks into my eyes. “Get dressed, we’re going out.” What? Is he crazy? We stand looking at each other for a moment or two when he grows impatient and growls, “Well? What are you waiting for? I said get dressed!”

  I hurriedly close my door and wrap my arms around myself. What could he possibly want? I have never gone out with my dad just to go out. Maybe we are going to see mom? I shake my head in disbelief and turn towards my closet. I slip on some jeans and a black fitted shirt along with my converse. Wow, I have not worn real clothes in what feels like forever.

  I make my way into the bathroom, careful to not make any eye contact with the mirror as I quickly brush my teeth. I throw my bag over my shoulder and make my way out of my room. When I get downstairs, I only see Mary in the kitchen. Where is he? Mary rushes over to me and plants a kiss on my cheek, her old eyes are teary when she looks into mine, “You look better dear.” She pauses and grabs my shoulders, “Now you better hurry, your father is outside waiting for you.”

  When I get outside I am welcomed by warmth on my shoulders. I smell the light scent of the tea roses as I walk past them, seeing the honey bees earning their keep. My dad is parked in front of the walk. I open the door and sit. I don’t dare look at him – I don’t want to. He starts the car and we are on our way to – well I’m not really sure. Once again I am stuck in this painfully awkward and quiet car with my dad. Except now we have the left over tension from our fight the other night looming in the air.

  We drive for about five minutes or so when we pull into the local diner, “Marnies”. Really, he wants to take me to “Marnies”? We are seated when we enter the old 50’s style diner, across from each other in a booth. There are round, metal tables throughout the restaurant and red leather chairs surrounding them. The floor is covered in black and white checkered tile and there is a long counter extending throughout the restaurant. The cook, Dan stays busy behind it as the regular’s line up, making their orders and drinking their coffee.

  I look out the window, my usual coping tactic when I have absolutely nothing to say. The waitress comes over and takes our orders, both of us opting for a burger and he orders coffee and water and I order a cherry coke. The waitress, whom everyone knows as Deb brings out our food. We eat in silence.

  Suddenly, he pushes
away his plate with his barely eaten food and laces his fingers on the table, looking down at his hands. He clears his throat; I am looking at him, my eyes wide as I chew on a fry. When he begins to look up, my eyes dart back to the window. “Mandy, there is so much that I wish I could say to…” He pauses as he looks back at his hands, “I wish that I could turn back time and fix all of this. I regret that I never made the effort to be close to you. I’m sorry.” His voice is raspy, he almost sounds – defeated. I put my hands in my lap and look down at them as I search my mind for words. Words that I feel should be spoken right now, but what? This apology, it’s too late.

  I have spent my entire life wanting, needing his acceptance. Why now? Why, when my mother is literally wasting away in a hospital? I realize that I am grinding my teeth, clenching my jaw. Breathe Mandy. I exhale and scoot out of the booth. I hastily walk through the restaurant avoiding the stares and escape through the doors. I stand outside and inhale the fresh air; I can hear my heart beating away in my ears. My dad follows shortly after and stands beside me for a moment before making his way back to the car. I hesitantly follow behind him.

  When we arrive back home I go to open the car door, when he touches my arm – gently, but I still flinch. “I have something I would like to show you.” He almost whispers. I sit for a moment, with his hand on my arm until he finally lets go and gets out. I follow and stand on the other side of the car, facing him. He nods in the direction of the garage. What? I have never been allowed in the garage. I cross my arms and follow behind him.

  He opens the garage door to reveal a car. But, not just any car; It’s old – an old vintage convertible. It is surely a beautiful sight too, creamy white with beautiful curves. It is in excellent shape, no dents and no rust its – perfect. Wow, how have I never seen this car?

  My dad walks around the driver’s side and opens the door, he gestures for me to get in. I walk around the car, running my hand along the shapes and get in. He closes the door behind me and I smile as I grip the wheel. My eye catches something on the dashboard, a picture? I retrieve it and recognize my young, happy parents in this same car. He is kissing her cheek and she has a glow about her. Then I realize that he has his hand rested on her pregnant tummy. That’s me in there. Tears begin forming and one escapes and lands on the picture, ironically right under my mother’s eye. I smile and put the picture up to my heart.

  My dad is watching me, a somber smile on his face and sadness in his eyes. “This is a 57 Chevy Bel Air” he says as he pats the side of the car and leans on the standing toolbox behind him. He looks down at his feet and continues, “I want you to have her.” What? I am not really sure what to say but cannot keep my mouth from hanging open as I stare up at him in disbelief.

  My dad reaches over to a shelf behind him and retrieves a key, he hands it to me and I examine it in my open hand. “But, dad I can’t accept this.” I whisper as I look from the key to him. He forces a laugh, possibly to lighten the mood before his face darkens. “Yes, you can Mandy. It’s the least I can do. Your mother loved this car.” His voice is cracking as he looks at his boots. I look back at the key and run my thumb over the edges.

  My dad walks closer to the car and leans against the window. He bends down and kisses the top of my head. Oh, dad! Excitement overcomes me and my heart skips a beat. He doesn’t hate me? He makes his way out of the garage and leaves me alone with this – with my car. I smile and put the key in the ignition. The car comes to life and sends shivers down my spine. My mom loved this car, that’s what he said.

  I roll out of the driveway and turn onto the winding road. My hair is flying away in the breeze as I cruise down the road. Matthew would die if he saw this. Yes, I’m going to go show him. I’m elated right now and hopefully he will forgive me of my antics. I turn on his street and park in front of his house, behind his Mustang. I’ve always loved his white, Victorian style home. I run up to the door and hastily knock. I inhale the honey suckle that has grown up the side of his house.

  After a moment, there he is. His hair is a mess and his eyes sleepy. “Did I wake you up?” I ask, searching his face for a clue as to where we stand. Matthew leans his arm on the door frame and looks at the car behind me. “Whoa, is that a 57?” He asks, a smile creeping across his face. “Yeah, yeah it is.” I reply, shielding the sun from my eyes. “My dad gave it to me.” I murmur, looking up at him.

  Matthew sighs and looks at the ground, his smiling face replaced with a frown. “I guess you don’t need me anymore.” He says. My mouth drops open and I am searching for something to say when he begins shutting the door. My hand flies up and blocks the door from closing. “Matthew, how could you say that? I need you!” I exclaim. Matthew peers at me from the slightly ajar door and finally backs away, he opens it up and steps to the side.

  I enter and he closes the door behind us. Without saying a word he begins walking up the stairs to his room and I follow behind. He lets me enter his room filled with posters of muscle cars and half naked women. He closes the door and turns to face me. I look deeply into his soft eyes. I want you, I need you. I grab his hands and step closer, “Matthew, I –“His hand escapes mine and cups my chin, putting the pad of his thumb to my lips, hushing me.

  He steps closer and our chests are brushing against each other’s, sending a tingling sensation through my body. He rests his forehead on mine, our noses touching. He closes his eyes and I can feel his breath on my lips. His hands travel up to my sides and then to the small of my back. Before I know it, my lips are drawn to his. He returns the kiss and pulls me closer to him, pulling my face up to meet his. I am standing on my tippy toes. My arms have wrapped around his neck.

  He begins walking to his bed, my toes sweeping across the floor and we descend to onto the blue checkered comforter, the weight of him claiming me with our lips never retreating. He puts his hand on the back of my head, our mouths moving almost in unison. My hands have found themselves in his hair. Oh my. He is amazing.

  Suddenly, he stops and sits up on his elbow. He looks down at me and traces a finger along my brow line. He looks away and squeezes his eyes shut. Oh no! What happened? He sighs and sits up. His elbows are resting on his knees, his hands through is hair. He is shaking his head. What have I done?

  He stands and puts his hands on his hips. He has a bewildered look on his face as he looks down at me, still lying on the bed – frozen and with a horrified look on my face. In this moment I know that I have potentially risked everything. I have possibly destroyed years of friendship. I hastily get up off the bed and without looking at him, I dart out of his room and down the stairs, escaping the house and slamming the door. I get in my car, my breaths are heavy. My heart is galloping. I put my forehead on the wheel as I clutch it with both hands. You’ve done it now Mandy.

  Warm tears are running down my cheeks as I sit back in the seat with my head on the head rest, my eyes travel towards the sky as the tears flow uncontrollably. I close my eyes tightly. I hear Matthew’s front door open, my eyes dart open and I frantically turn the key in the ignition, seeing Matthew walking towards the car. I peel out and hear Matthew yelling “Mandy!” behind me. I see him throw his hands up in the rear view mirror. I just want to drive right now. The tears continue to flow - now it’s just me, my car and the road. I have no idea how I could still cry after crying this entire week.

  I have been driving for a while and find myself in the outskirts of town, the road is curvy and tall trees tower around me, it seems they are never ending. The leaves are orange and yellow and red. It’s about 6 pm and the sun is starting to set, casting an orange hue on the road in front of me. There are no other cars around and the only thing I hear is the wind and the tires humming.

  I see what looks like a private road; privacy is just what I need. I turn and make my way up a curvy path, up a hill and park. I get out and lean against my door. I inhale and exhale deeply. There is so much to register. My dad really loves me, I think. Matthew doesn’t want me, or does he? His kiss tells me y
es but his actions afterwards tell me otherwise. Then, there is the boy in the mirror. I am losing my mind. Is this normal after years of neglect, after years of feeling no worth or love? And, furthermore what the hell did I see in the glass last night?

  Was it him? Was it Fynn? I only saw him for a split second but, he was beautiful. He looked celestial. His eyes were almost looking into my soul and he had wisps of hair around his face almost like a halo. I can’t help but wonder about this boy in my mirror. But, then it could just be my mind coping. Whatever the case, I am truly perplexed – but the blanket should stay over the mirror, at least for a while anyways.

  I decide to make my way back home, it’s become chilly. And besides, I do have to face reality again tomorrow. I have already missed a week of school and honestly, I am ready to get back to normality. No matter how hard it is. When I pull into the driveway, my father’s car is gone. Not the bar again? Today was so hopeful. Today I actually felt love and acceptance from the man I so badly craved the attention from. I put the car in park and head inside. The house is quiet and there is a soft glow from the lamp in the living room.

  I tip toe up the stairs – out of habit. I reach my door and enter my room. When I enter I am startled. Matthew is sitting on my bed. He looks up at me and then back at his fingers, his elbows propped up in that adorable way. What? Not now. I am so exhausted. I take my purse from my shoulder and throw it on a vacant chair beside my closet, my eyes travel to the mirror, dammit. Matthew must have removed the blanket

  I walk towards Matthew, keeping my eyes on the mirror and stand before him. My eyes slowly work their way from the mirror to Matthew. He places his hands on his knees and stands to face me. What on earth could we possibly have to talk about now? I’m still livid with him. I look at my feet before looking back into his thoughtful, sexy, beautiful – No Mandy, stop before you act on your thoughts again. I tilt my head, “Matthew, what are you doing here?” I ask. He looks down at me, he looks so distracted. “What the hell was that earlier?” He asks. I can’t help but smile at the thought. I quickly realize what my uncontrollable mouth is doing and force it back into a serious position. “What do you mean?” I ask quizzically. Matthew suddenly throws his hands up and plants them on his head, fingers through his hair.