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

by Bonny Capps

  He begins pacing around rapidly, my eyes follow. After a while he walks up to me and firmly plants his hands on my arms, keeping me in place. “This thing going on between you and I, it needs to stop Mandy. I am in love with McKenzie, you are my best friend.” My face flushes and my mouth has dropped open. What? I certainly did not expect this type of conversation. My heart has found itself in the depths of my stomach again.

  I knew it; I knew I royally messed this up. Tears form in my eyes; I quickly look down and try to blink them away. I do not want to be vulnerable around him, not now. I look back into his eyes; I’m so angry and so hurt and so in love. “Matthew, you need to leave.” I say, my body is trembling and I feel like I’m going to fall apart. His eyes are on fire, he looks like he wants me, but what he just said justifies all of my insecurities.

  He releases his grip and stares at me briefly before he makes his exit and slams the door behind him. I rush to the blanket and hurriedly drape it over the mirror once more, before it can speak. I sink to the floor and put my fingers through my hair, resting my elbows on my legs. I want to become the floor, just disappear. I hate this. I hate everything. My sadness has become anger.

  Chapter Six

  My feelings on this Monday morning are very much what I expected. I’m anxious as hell and I keep re-hashing yesterday’s events in my head. Is this it for Matthew and me? Did I damage seventeen years of friendship? The recent events in my life have thrown me into a spiral of different emotions.

  I decide, the better I look the better I will feel so I slip on a black knee length dress and cinch a belt around my waist. I put on a cropped blue jean jacket and zip up my black boots. I decide to wear my hair down today; it is hugging my shoulders and hanging down the middle of my back. I sweep my mascara across my long eye lashes and dab lip gloss on my lips. I throw my bag over my shoulder and head downstairs.

  My dad is sitting at the bar drinking his coffee and eating bacon and eggs. I halt in the entry of the kitchen and we make eye contact. I force a smile and he smiles back. I make my way over to the pantry and grab a breakfast bar. I throw it in my bag and pour myself a glass of orange juice. I rinse my cup when I’m done and head out the door.

  I hop into my car and turn the key. I can do this. It’s a chilly morning. I wonder where the top is for this car. Is it in the garage? I will certainly need it soon. I approach the school and my heart is doing its usual circus act in my chest. I see Matthew’s car and make sure to park far away from it. I retrieve my bag and make my way up to the entry. As I near my locker I stop in my tracks. Matthew has McKenzie’s back against a locker. His hand is on the small of her back, just like he did mine.

  I purse my lips and look down at the ground, continuing to my locker. I free the lock and open the door before I retrieve my things for first period. “Mandy!” McKenzie exclaims from behind me. I turn to see Matthew and her hand in hand. He looks at the floor at first but his eyes eventually meet mine. I smile weakly at him, but he doesn’t return the gesture. He looks at McKenzie and kisses her cheek before he walks away.

  McKenzie slowly approaches me. We silently stare at each other for a moment, but when she can’t find the words to say she slowly slinks away and my eyes follow. I sigh and turn back to my locker. I am startled by the mirror, it’s rippling - again. Oh god, I certainly didn’t think about this. He must be trying to say something but I cannot hear him over the racket in the halls. I slam the door shut and head to first period. I will have none of that, especially at school. If I think I am crazy, they certainly will.

  The day seems to be going by quickly and I decide to eat my lunch outside, under the big oak tree. I extend my legs out and put my head against the trunk of the tree and close my eyes. My mind wanders, as usual. Should I go see mom today? It has been exactly a week since I’ve seen her. What if she’s worse? Dad won’t tell me anything. I think about Matthew and McKenzie, they certainly seem to be in love. Matthew basically told me that he is choosing her over me. I laugh to myself - that was never even up for discussion. It was in my head and the mirror probably is too.

  But, the boy’s face in the mirror and those eyes. How could I forget? He was soulful and magnificent. I smile at the memory, am I willing to further risk my sanity and talk to it again? My mind is working overtime registering all that has happened. I finish off my apple and head back in.

  Last period ends and I put my belongings in my locker, careful to avoid eye contact with the mirror. Surprisingly the rest of my school day went smoothly, Sadie must be absent – she has to be. Otherwise she would be tormenting me. She is literally the reason I avoid social media. I’ve seen the sad news about teenagers succumbing to online bullying and didn’t think it was worth the risk. Then again I did almost kill myself. I cringe at the thought of swinging around in my closet, my throat closed and it brings me back to Fynn. Was he the one that saved me?

  I shake my head in an attempt to rid the thought. I decide that I will head to the football field to see Matthew, we need to talk. I run my fingers along the chain length fence and come to a halt when I see “Bryan” on the back of his jersey. He is running with the ball tucked under his arm. I hook fingers in the fence and my heart flutters. He touches down the football and removes his helmet and throws it down before chest bumping one of the fellow teammates.

  Suddenly his eyes travel to my direction and meet mine. I smile but he doesn’t return it. He just stares at me expressionless. After a bit he turns and makes his way to the building. I look down and clumsily release my fingers from the fence. I trudge back to my car and get in. I have made up my mind that it is time to see my mom.

  I drive through the city, struggling with traffic. I even get some “oohs” and “ahhs” over my car. It is pretty fantastic. I park in the visitors section and walk into the hospital. Up the elevator I go and then back to the depressing ICU. I stand in front of the curtain for a while until I finally work up the nerve to open it. There she is with the same “woosh, woosh”, the same machines and the same mother lying lifelessly. I sit on the side of the bed and examine her face. I grab her hand and trace my thumb over her smooth finger nails.

  I am there for about twenty minutes or so before there is a gentle tap on the frame of the door. I look over my shoulder and see Dr. Smiley with his caring eyes. I quickly stand and approach him. “Hello Mandy, how are you holding up?” He asks kindly. I look at my mother and then back to him, “I’m trying to deal with all of this, but it’s really hard.” He smiles and touches my shoulder. He gives it a squeeze and walks out. God, it must be tough being a doctor. They have to develop another layer of skin it seems. I walk over to my mom and plant a soft kiss on her forehead. “I love you” I whisper and hurry out before the tears begin escaping. I get back to my car and head home.

  When I park I am happy to see my dad’s car in front of mine, good no bar tonight! I run up the stairs and enter the house. My dad is at the bar and oh no, he is smoking. He only smokes when he drinks. My heart sinks as I slowly approach him. I make my way around the bar. He looks up at me and smiles. It’s that somber smile again. And, what’s this? He is looking at a photo album. I’ve never seen it before. I guess my curiosity is evident because he gestures for me to sit on the stool beside him and I do. He positions the album so it is visible for both of us and flips it back to the first page.

  My mouth drops open when I see my name printed on the cover page, in playful, swirly font. It’s a scrap book, but not just any scrap book, this is my baby book. The first few pictures are of my mother and me when I was born, in the same hospital she is in now. I trace my finger along the edges of each picture. “You know, I used to call you my little jelly bean.” My dad says. A big smile on his face. I look into his eyes. What? A jelly bean?

  He looks back to the album and there are baby pictures of me crawling, sitting up and standing up for the first time – that’s what the book says anyways. He flips to another page and there is a lock of hair and a picture of a very small me crying whi
lst getting a haircut. My father laughs and points to the picture, “You did not like that - not at all!” We continue flipping through the pages but my mind is simply not here in this moment, what should be a good moment with my dad. “Why are you showing me this?” I blurt out. Ugh, why do I do that? Insert foot in mouth Mandy.

  My dad stops in his tracks, he is still trying to keep the smile on his face but it is obviously forced. He closes the book and slides it to the side. He takes a gulp of his alcohol and gently places the glass on the counter. “I wanted you to know that things have not always been bad. You had a good life. It’s just...” He pauses and looks in my eyes, “Things fell apart.” He whispers. My lip begins trembling. I don’t know how to cope right now. I need to get away. I can’t respond to what he’s saying. I slide off the bar stool and he quickly grasps my hand on the counter, his giant hand cupping mine. I force a weak smile and retrieve my hand from him.

  I make my way to my room – my sanctuary and shut the door. I place my bag on my dresser and place both hands the wooden edge, my hair dangling in my face. I tuck the loose strand behind my ear and look at my cloaked mirror. I bite my lip and begin hesitantly making my way over to it. I grab the bottom of the throw blanket and hold it in both hands. I am contemplating if I really want to do this. There may be some pros, may be some cons also. But, what do I have to lose?

  I slowly remove the blanket to reveal the mirror. I throw the blanket on my bed and wrap my arms around myself; my frantic eyes are searching for him. “Fynn?” I whisper. Nothing… I sink to the floor and sit and wait. After a couple of minutes there is no sign of him. Oddly, it hurts. He’s gone now too. I get up off the floor, turn and head to my balcony, looking out at the starry sky. “Mandy?” I stop in my tracks, my eyes are wide and I have to purse my lips to keep them from trembling. I slowly turn around and realize I am not facing my reflection anymore. It’s him. It’s Fynn.

  Chapter Seven

  He is every bit as beautiful as I had thought. I slowly, cautiously walk towards him. My eyes travel from his bare feet and then up to his legs, stomach, chest and then his face. He is wearing brown pants; they are cinched at his waist and a white noble man’s shirt. He is clearly from a different era. His eyes are gentle and kind, they are dark grey. His hair is black and tousled - a magnificent mess. His lips are curling up into a smile and he is tall, from what I can tell.

  My mouth is hanging open. He looks real. Fynn stands in silence, his arms behind his back. “Well?” He asks eagerly. I shake my head in disbelief with my fingers through my hair. I’m speechless. Fynn looks down and then slyly back at me, through his long, spidery eyelashes, “I can help you Mandy. You just have to come with me.” He whispers, extending his arm. I’m exasperated. “Go… where?” I whisper as I take a step back. He drops his arm and then gestures behind him, “My world of course.”

  I look all around him, what world? All I can see are swirls and colors. “Mandy, come. Please.” His hand is reaching towards me again. I stand my ground, my feet are planted. Suddenly as his arm extends further, his fingers begin protruding through the mirror. He steps closer. Curiosity over takes me and I begin walking towards him. I shakily reach for his arm and my fingers make contact with his skin - his real skin. I gasp and my eyes travel back up to his. He has a mischievous look on his face.

  I run my fingers from his forearm, to his wrist, across his palm and then touch his finger tips with my own. I slide my hand into his, palms touching. He closes his around mine and just like that, he yanks me from reality.

  I fall into his arms and we are face to face. He is tall and his arms are muscular and protective, they completely encircle me. You can almost swim in his eyes; they are so full of soul. He looks at me lovingly. I take my eyes from his and they go discovering. Where am I? We seem to be in a meadow of sorts, surrounded by trees. This place is ethereal - out of this world. The sky is magnificent. I see Saturn behind the tree lines and smaller planets scattered across the sky, you can see intricate details; everything is so vibrant, from the leaves on the trees to the tall, swaying grass surrounding us.

  This is unlike anything I have ever seen. It’s so warm here. Fynn releases me from his embrace as my eyes travel around wildly. I am overwhelmed. Suddenly my head is spinning and I am seeing stars. I begin falling, descending and all goes black.

  I hear birds chirping and tiny voices whispering and something is clambering about. My eyelids are illuminated with sunlight, I try to squeeze them shut but to no avail. When I finally open them, I am facing a window but with no glass. I sit up and look out. This place is surrounded by water and there is a dock with a small boat. I hear something fall to the ground and then tiny footsteps go scattering. I turn my head and see a bowl wobbling on the floor and then stand still. Tiny voices, footsteps? What the hell is this?

  I frantically bring my legs to my chest and realize that I am wearing a white gown, it somewhat resembles Fynn’s shirt. I take in my surroundings. There is a small furnace, or stove? It looks cast iron and has a pipe leading up to the ceiling. I am in a bed of sorts, it has posts that resemble antlers and the mattress is covered with a large, soft fur. I run my hand over it; I wonder what kind of animal this was? I put my hands on the edge of the bed and cautiously peer over.

  Suddenly I am distracted by another noise and look to my right. I scream when I see this strange little person standing on the bed next to me. I scramble up to the head of the bed, as far as I can. It’s very small, about the size of one of the dolls I used to play with as a child. It seems to be wearing a sock? In fact, I think I recognize that sock! My sock! It shrieks and hides behind the bed post. My chest is heaving. My eyes are about to pop out of my head. What this hell is this thing? We sit for a moment, it hiding behind the bed post and me staring in awe. Finally it pokes its head out.

  It really is kind of cute, this creature. It resembles a beaver in a sense but its body is that of a human’s, its nose has whiskers and its large teeth are exposed. It slowly reveals itself from behind the post and looks down at its pigeon toed, hairy feet. It’s very awkward. I start to uncurl myself from my protective position and slowly begin crawling towards it. It keeps its eyes on its feet. Well, this little guy can’t be that bad, can he? I continue reaching towards it until my finger almost touches his tummy; then he rears back and bites the hell out of my finger tip.

  “OUCH!” I exclaim - my finger is throbbing. Just then, Fynn comes through the door and looks from me to the little monster with an amused grin on his face. I am irritated as I blow on my finger in an attempt to make the pain become lesser. “I see you met one of the litchums!” He says as he walks towards it and lets it crawl into his hand. “A litchum?” I ask. “Yes, a litchum. Cute little buggers aren’t they?” He asks. “I think you meant mean little bastard!” I sass back. Fynn laughs and looks at the little thing. “Did you bite?” He asks it, looking bemused. It nods and a sad expression overcomes its face, I can’t help but feel bad for it.

  Fynn puts it down and pats its head. It turns and makes its way out of the door. “One must never reach out and touch a litchum.” He scolds. I am dumbstruck! He’s the one that left me alone with that evil little creature. Fynn walks up to the bed and extends a hand towards me. I put my hand in his and before stepping down I frantically search the floor for anymore… litchums… “It’s OK; they really are a kind hearted breed.” He says. I scoff at him and plant one foot down and then the other. He let’s go and puts his hands behind his back.

  I grip the post of the bed as my eyes wander around this place. The walls seem to be made of bark. There are iron pots and pans hanging next to the furnace and a wooden desk with the legs looking much like the bed posts. There is a fur rug on the floor and hanging on the wall are sketches. I walk closer to examine them and they look very familiar. It’s… me… in different dancing poses. My eyes linger on each one momentarily when I finally look towards Fynn. He is standing beside me and is looking at me intently. I gesture towards the sketches, “
That’s… that’s…” I murmur. He exhales, “You.”

  I am speechless. It seems that no-one has ever taken the time to pay attention to the details that he beautifully portrayed on these pages. “Now, come.” He says, grabbing my hand and guiding me out the door. I follow and am welcomed by the warm sun. As far as I can see, there is just water around us. We are on a small island. The boat by the dock is rocking around in the glimmering water, the reflection of the planets in the blue sky moving along gracefully with the ripples.

  This island is lush green, the greenest I have ever seen. There are roots surrounding it, dipping down into the water… roots from what? My eyes travel behind me to discover a giant tree. It is huge, about two or three stories tall with small windows carved into it and a cottage door placed right in the middle. My eyes move upwards and I see tiny ladders all over the tree, leading up to small compartments, each with windows and a door. The litchums are everywhere, up and down the ladders, on the ground, carrying bits of wood – sticks rather. I look to Fynn and he is staring at me. “You live in a tree?” I ask. He laughs and nods towards it, “Yes I do.”

  I gesture towards the creatures, “Where are the little people taking the wood?” I ask. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “They are a working species, they love labor. So I told them that we had to collect wood for winter, even though it is never winter here. So this is what they do day in and day out, they carry it from one side of the island to the other.” I smile. He begins pulling away but leans back in, “They hate to be called little people by the way.” Oh! My cheeks burn as I look at my feet. My shoes are gone.