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

by Bonny Capps

  I remember Andre telling me that his fate was for the gods to decide. I cringe at the thought that he is being punished for me. The whole idea of that breaks my heart. I wrap my arms around myself and close my eyes, envisioning his face - his beautiful grey eyes and his soft lips – his careless hair blowing slightly in the breeze. I am startled when I hear something behind me fall to the wooden floor.

  I whip around and my eyes wildly search the room as I stand. I see something small; it looks almost exactly like – no! It can’t be! It’s the shape on an arrow head and it’s made of bone. I hold it in my palm as I examine it, my hand shaking. I must be losing my mind. He hasn’t said a word since I have left and now this?

  I slowly make my way to the mirror and look from my palm to the mirror. “What is this?” I whisper, watching the mirror intently. “Fynn? Are you in there?” I grip the arrow head tightly in my hand as the warm tears roll down my cheeks. “Why won’t you say anything? Why are you messing with my mind, Fynn? This isn’t fair!” I exclaim as I sink to the floor.

  I wake up to the bright sun, it’s Saturday and it seems the snow has ceased. I slip into my robe and put on my house shoes before retreating from my room. I stop and peer into mom’s bedroom, “Good morning mom.” I whisper before heading downstairs.

  I’m surprised to see my dad cooking this morning as I take a seat at the bar. He looks over his shoulder, “You hungry jelly bean?” I can’t help but smile when I hear him say that, “Sure what are you making?” I ask. “Some bacon, eggs and toast.” He responds.

  He slides the plate in front of me and I take a bite of the slightly overcooked bacon. He places his hands on the bar, “Do you remember that imaginary friend you used to have?” I smile as I shake my head. “Yeah, I forgot what you used to call him. Any who, I came across a picture you drew as a little girl.” I take a bite of toast as he rushes to the other side of the kitchen and retrieves a piece of paper. I almost choke when I see the drawing.

  It’s a picture of my mirror and there is a stick figure inside of it holding my hand. I hold it up in front of me as my hands shake uncontrollably. “Fynn.” I whisper. “Yeah, that’s right! Fynn!” He exclaims. Tears form in my eyes and my dad continues his cooking. “Dad, how long did I talk to Fynn?” I ask. “Oh my gosh, since you could talk. You said that he lived in the mirror and that he was watching a secret world. You had one heck of an imagination.”

  My wide eyes examine the picture in front of me. He has been there all along, what Makin told me was true.

  I jump as I hear a loud beeping coming from upstairs. My dad whips around and his eyes meet mine, “Mom!” I exclaim as I jump down from the stool and follow my dad up the stairs. He is looking at the machines wildly, his hands waving in front of him.

  I stand in the doorway, trying to take this all in. My dad sits beside her on the bed and reaches towards her. He places his fingers gently on her neck, feeling for a pulse. His eyes meet mine as he shakes his head and begins sobbing uncontrollably. I sink to the floor as I watch my dad. She’s gone. She’s dead. This is a strong man, a strong man who has to accept that his wife is dead.

  My lip begins trembling as I get back to my feet, using the doorframe for balance. I make my way over to them and sit on the other side of her, opposite of my dad. I examine his face for some time. His lip is trembling and the tears continue to fall, one after another. Suddenly he grasps her arms and begins shaking her, “Why did you do this to our family? Why did you do this to us? Why? This is undone! We could have been happy. We could have been strong after our baby died.” His body is convulsing as he lays his head on her chest, “Why?”

  I reach towards him and place my hand on his shoulder, “Dad, she’s gone. But, she’s been gone for a long time.” I whisper. I lay my head on his back as he continues to sob over her body. I squeeze my eyes shut. I will never forget this moment. Mom said that I need to be strong and I will.

  The ambulance comes and makes its way up the hill to our house. The paramedics go to her room and they put her in a white bag that zips up the middle and they carry her down the stairs on a gurney before they put her in the back of the ambulance. They nod at my dad and me sympathetically as they make their departure. Dad looks so sad, so distraught. He didn’t prepare himself for the inevitable. I’m terribly sad; however I knew that this day was coming and I can’t help the overwhelming anger that I feel right now.

  She had a choice. She chose to be weak. She chose to run away. She chose the dead over the living. She abandoned us.

  Chapter Twenty One

  I stand on the bridge in the old park and look down at the frozen pond wondering how frightening it must be for the turtles and fish when nature decides to claim their home, freezing everything in its path. I let out a deep sigh. This is so hard, all of it and I wonder what I did to deserve this, to be motherless? Why was this in God’s plan for me? Why did I meet someone and fall madly in love only for him to be taken away from me? I just don’t understand it, any of it.

  My mom’s funeral is tomorrow. I’m not ready to say goodbye when she never really ever let me know her. I’m wondering where she’s at. Is she floating around on clouds? Is she burning and suffering because she abandoned her family. Or is she just going to become part of the earth when we bury her? I hate the thought of nothingness, of just ceasing to live. There has to be more than that. There has to be something better when we leave this world.

  I have had so many emotions running through my mind- hurt and pain, but mostly anger. I want to get away from all of it. I just want to grow wings and fly away. I just want to be with Fynn in his tree house in the mirror. Why hasn’t he taken me back? Where is he? What have the elders done to him?

  I take the arrowhead from my pocket and hold it out in front of me and let out a sigh from the depths of my gut. I run my thumb over the smooth bone. This is a sign isn’t it? The drawing is a sign. I’ve known him forever. Why did I forget about him for so long? He watched me grow and he tried to help me cope with this messed up life and with the neglect. How could I forget him?

  I’m startled when I hear the roar of the engine. I look up and see Matthew’s car making its way down the pebble road into the park. I look down at the arrow head once more and press it against my lips before placing it back into my jacket pocket. Matthew makes his way towards me and joins me on the bridge.

  “Hey kid, how you holding up?” He asks bumping me with his shoulder as he rests his forearms on the rail. I look into his eyes, “I don’t know honestly. I’m sad but I’m also just really, really mad at her. You know?” He wraps and arm around my shoulder and gives me a squeeze, “Mands, there’s nothing wrong with that. You had a messed up life growing up. When we were kids I would always ask my mom if you could live with us.” I raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?” He grins as he nods, “Yeah! I’ve always wanted a sibling.” I laugh and look back towards the pond. “Of course, it is looked down on to make out with your sister, but you know.” He says, looking at me jokingly. “Matthew!” I exclaim as I nudge him in his side with my elbow.

  “Whoa! You’re going to pay for that!” He says as he leaves me on the bridge and bends down, scooping snow into his hands. “Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it?” I sass. He turns swiftly and hurls a snowball at my face. My hand flies up and block it, sending chunks of it everywhere. “Oh, you want to play that game!” I exclaim as I make my way off of the bridge and grab a handful of snow. Before I can turn around and launch it at him he has already made his way over to me and scoops me in his arms. He spins around several times as I kick and giggle.

  He finally stops and looks into my eyes, “I think you’re going to be okay kid.” He puts me down and I hug him tightly. “Thank you Matthew.” I whisper. “For what?” He asks. I pull away and look deeply into his sweet, brown eyes, “For being such a good friend.” I reply. He looks down at his feet and his eyes meet mine again, “It’s not hard when I have such an amazing person to be a good friend to.”

  I
get in my car and wave at Matthew as he backs out of his parking spot. The snow has begun lightly falling once more. I start my car and sit for a moment as I look at the park. Not too long ago I left Matthew on that bridge. Now we’re okay again and it feels so good. Things do change. Circumstances change.

  Mom said in that letter that she wished that she could make everything better. She said that she wished that she could have been a better mother. The thing is, nobody was holding a gun to her head forcing her to drink that vodka. We all have a choice.

  We are all faced with obstacles, it’s our choice to either wallow in self-pity or move on and let those obstacles we face become what makes us stronger. I can’t let my life or what I’ve been through hold me back.

  I enter the house and all is quiet. “Dad?” I holler. Nobody answers. His car is out front, he must be home. I look into the kitchen and then the living room, nobody. I walk up the stairs and am shocked to see the “Door to the Unknown” cracked open and light is peeking through, it spreads across the wood floor in the hallway.

  I have called it that ever since I was young. It is right next to my bedroom. It always remained locked; no-one was allowed to enter – ever. When I would ask Mary or anyone else what was in the room my questions would go ignored. I would try and peek in the cracks only to see darkness. The “Door to the Unknown” was to remain a secret; it just became an unspoken fact of life after some time.

  I tiptoe to the door and peer through the crack. Dad is sitting on a wooden rocking chair, holding a brown teddy bear in front of him. I put my hand on the door and gently push, exposing more of the room. There is a wooden crib and a toy box; it’s the shape of a train. There is a round rug on the floor with roads all throughout it and little buildings.

  Dad looks up at me; his eyes are red and sad. He smiles as he looks down at the teddy bear once again. This is Peter’s room. It must be exactly as it was when he died many years ago. Dad clears his throat and places the teddy bear on the toy box, “I tried getting your mother to remodel the room but she wasn’t having that. She just didn’t want to let go.” I walk towards him and kneel down in front of him. “Dad, why didn’t anyone ever tell me about Peter?”

  He looks down at me, “Because it was swept under the rug. We wanted to forget. Because forgetting means that you don’t have to feel the pain anymore.” I purse my lips and look down at my hands in my lap, “Why were you so mad at me? All these years, you acted like you didn’t want me.” Tears form in my eyes as I look up at him. He sighs and puts his face in his hands, “I want to take it all back, and I want to be a good father to you Mandy. I love you so much. I made a big mistake, the biggest I have ever made or ever will make.” I grasp his hands and pull them away from his face. The tears are rolling down his scruffy cheeks.

  He looks like a wreck, he hasn’t shaved in days and his usual neat hair is a mess and hangs down in front of his eyes. This is a broken man. This is a sad, remorseful, broken man. “Dad, I forgive you.” I whisper. He starts sobbing as he leans down and wraps his arms around my shoulders. The tears escape my eyes as I rest my chin on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him.

  When I wake, I dress myself in a loose fitting black dress and black tights to keep my legs warm. I cinch a black belt around my waist. I’m wearing my black boots and leather jacket. My hair is down and rests over my shoulders. This is the day I say goodbye and my thoughts are running rampant in my mind.

  The girl staring back at me is not what she was before all of this began. She is so strong and optimistic and brave. She helps people and she is forgiving. But there is one person that I have yet to forgive, her. I don’t know how to go about doing that. She left my family in shambles. She was selfish.

  I hear a light tapping on the door and my dad peeks in. He looks handsome in his black suit and his hair slicked back. “We’ve got to go Jelly Bean.” I nod and make my way to him, looping my arm through his. We stop in front of mom’s room, the machines are still there, but they no longer have a vessel to invade. Their job here is no longer. I look up at dad and he forces a weak smile. We go downstairs and meet Mary at the entry. Her hair is pulled into her messy bun and her sad eyes look at us intently from behind her thick glasses.

  The service will be held outside in the small “Forest Grove Cemetery” located right next to my house on the hill. I’m not sure why, it surely is cold this time of year – but my dad wanted it this way.

  The snow falls gently and her cherry wood casket is closed, capturing the snowflakes. I stand next to Matthew and McKenzie and my dad, of course. Mary has her arm looped through his as she sniffles quietly and pats her eyes with a tissue.

  The priest begins his sermon as I stare at the coffin blankly, “In the name of God, the merciful Father, we commit the body of Analiese Maria Knolls to the peace of the grave.” My thoughts begin going crazy once again as the priest continues – she is dead. This is really happening, “From dust you came to dust you shall return.” My heart begins beating wildly in my chest, why did she leave me? Why did Fynn leave me? “You gave her life; receive her in your peace.” The priest continues and my eyes have filled with tears, I have the overwhelming urge to get the hell out of here.

  I feel a light breeze against my neck and hear a whisper in my ear- it’s almost as if it is part of the wind, “Run.” My feet pick up and I run with all my might through the cemetery and out the gates and up the hill to my house. The crisp breeze bites at my face and my nose feels literally frozen.

  I make my way into the house and stand in the entry with my fists at my side. I bolt up the stairs and into my room. I stand across the room and stare at the mirror wide eyed. “I don’t understand Fynn. I don’t understand why you keep holding on.” The tears are flowing uncontrollably as I place my hands on my head, tugging at my wild hair as I take a step towards the mirror, “It isn’t fair! You abandoned me Fynn! You left and I was thrown back here to rot! You promised Fynn!” I shout as I place my hands on the mirrors frame, grasping it tightly. “If you are not coming back to me, then leave me alone. Stop giving me hope, it isn’t fair.” I sob as I turn my back to the mirror and slide down to the floor, “Just let me forget you, please.”

  I realize what I’ve just said and wish that I had not. It isn’t his fault that Hasset killed him and it isn’t his fault that I am facing reality once again. None of this is his fault and he doesn’t deserve me being angry with him. I need to honor his memory. I bury my face in my hands, my hair falling around me. I need to ask myself now, how would Fynn want me to live?

  He would want me to be happy. He would want me to be brave. He would want me to move on. I still feel his presence, he hasn’t left me and he never will. He belongs in my heart and that’s where he will stay.

  I promise.

  Epilogue

  I look down at the fluffy, white clouds as the plane soars over them. “What do you think it’s like outside of Forest Grove?” I ask as I look up at Matthew. “I don’t know Mands; I can imagine that it is a lot different, especially when you are going all the way to Ireland. You definitely didn’t start small.” He replies. I laugh and my eyes travel back to the window, there are miles and miles of sea below us and I can’t help but be reminded of life in the mirror.

  McKenzie is set to meet us when we get to the Dublin Airport, her family has already begun their annual travelling and they will move along to other fantastic places once we meet up with her.

  Life has definitely been a rollercoaster since mom died. I finished high school with honors. My dad was so proud when I walked across the stage and received my diploma. He is doing a lot better after going through the initial shock of losing her. But, he is definitely making the most of life. He doesn’t drink anymore and has stopped smoking. He has actually started jogging and rock climbing. It’s funny, because I would have never seen dad doing anything like that before, but I’m so happy for him. Mary still sticks around and I’m happy she does. She needs dad just like he needs her, without each other and me
being gone, they would be lost.

  I continued dance throughout the rest of the school year, I still love it but my life no longer revolves around it. I think dance was my way of coping with life but I don’t need to cope any longer. I have grown immensely over the months - psychologically and spiritually.

  I run my thumb along the edge of the leather journal my dad gave me in January, on my eighteenth birthday. I have been writing about Fynn and about my life. The best thing about writing is that if you catch the words at just the right time and put them down, the emotion stays raw – it bleeds onto the pages.

  “Mands! Matthew!” McKenzie exclaims as she makes her way to us at the baggage claim. She leaps into Matthew’s arms and he spins her around. She turns to me and we exchange a hug, “Welcome to Ireland!” She squeals.

  My eyes grow wide as we make our way out of the airport. “Isn’t it great?” She asks as she loops her arm through mine and I nod. It is spectacular. “So here’s the plan, we are going to be staying in this awesome bed and breakfast! Then after that we can go discovering!”

  We climb into a taxi and head to a quaint little bed and breakfast. It’s a large, red stone house and is surrounded by roses. It’s very charming and whimsical. I sit my suitcase on the bed and look out the window. The owner of this place is an older woman and very kind, she is below clipping the white roses in the courtyard, that would have been my mother had she lived to be that old – she would be happy and probably rent out the rooms in our old creaky house on the hill. I find myself doing this all the time, making up what she should or could have been.

  I jump when I hear my phone. I take it from my pocket and answer, “Hey dad.” I say. “Jelly bean! Just calling to check in! You remember what I told you?” He asks. I laugh as I turn from the window and plop down on the bed with its white, lace down comforter, “Yes, to watch my drinking. You won’t have to worry about that dad, I promise.” I look down at my bracelet that I had made, it’s a hemp rope and it’s looped through the arrowhead I found in my room - the constant reminder of my journey. “And?” He asks. “Pickpockets.” I respond, a smile overcoming my face.