Dead Reflections

by Carol Weekes

  “We’ll have to keep Cory away from that,” Robbie said. “He’d try to use it as a hidey tunnel.”

  “Kids,” Tanya laughed.

  “You have access from all ends of the house with an extra stairwell,” Hawkins commented. “Not only does it provide an interesting architectural design, but for safety reasons alone, having more than one access out is a positive consideration.”

  Robbie nodded, thinking in terms of a house fire. He’d have never attributed it to anything else at that moment.

  The second story via the main stairwell branched out in two directions and around the top of the main stairs, leading to six well-sized bedrooms, a main bathroom, a guest bathroom, and a built-in tub and shower in the master bedroom.

  “Oh Robbie, it’s amazing,” Tanya grabbed his arm.

  He had to admit that, for the money, it was a lot of house and, from what he saw so far, in exceptional condition.

  Hawkins took them into each of the bedrooms, opening closets to display depth, shelving, storage nooks and crannies. They walked into the room dubbed the guest bedroom. The current family had done their best to decorate the house, but it had become clear to Robbie that it had been more house than they’d been able to adequately furnish. He had to say the same for themselves, but reconciled the fact that, one day, Tanya and he would have grandchildren from their three sons and that the extra bedrooms and living space would be better accommodated in the future.

  The guest bathroom was small, but efficient with white tile throughout, a crisp old-fashioned claw foot tub, wrap around shower curtain, but modern showerhead. An antique barn-board cabinet held a small, oval porcelain sink above which sat a huge antique mirror framed in gold guild, its glass marred in spots with age and the silver lining behind it having broken down in spots. He regarded the mirror, thinking that, antique or not, he might want something clearer and more modern in here. Hawkins motioned for Tanya and Robbie to follow him into the corridor again.

  A fly buzzed in the bathroom window; thick, furry bluebottle insect, intent on trying to get out. Another couple of flies just like it lay dead on the windowsill. It was spring, cow country; flies might be an issue. And then, out of nowhere, Robbie saw the fly spiral like a small jet shot down, buzzing, to the sill. He cocked his head in confusion. Insects didn’t tend to die like that. They’d gradually slow and become lethargic. The fly convulsed and thrashed, as if sprayed with some kind of neurotoxin, and yet nothing had touched it. Within seconds, it went still like the others. He felt fascinated observing it.

  “Strange,” he murmured.

  He went to follow Hawkins and found himself facing the mirror.

  It wasn’t his reflection that looked back at him.

  It was his clothes, his build, his haircut; the features were his, but the eyes were not. Something dark and foreign regarded him from the depths of his corneas. Horror burned like acid. He saw a shadow move across the wall behind him, and then, as quickly as the fly had expired, the impression and sensation passed. Robbie took a step back and felt himself hit the wall. He almost screamed. Tanya and Hawkins were in the next room, discussing something about floor stains. He stared at the mirror. Morning sunlight hadn’t penetrated this room yet; it remained in soft shadow. He leaned toward the mirror, examining himself. He saw the details that were familiar to his face – his freshly shaven cheeks and chin that promised a shadow of whisker by the evening; the small pimple that had popped out at the base of his chin a few days ago; the tiny capillaries beside each nostril. The dark blue eyes looking back at him were his this time. His expression was one of shock. He regarded the mirror from different angles. It must have been a play of light.

  He left the bathroom, then on impulse, walked back into it again and quickly glanced in the mirror. He saw only himself and three dead flies lying on their backs along the sill, lined up like small trophies.

  “Robbie?”

  “Yeah!” he called. “Just taking a last minute look at the tub in here.” He caught up with them in the master bedroom, a magnificent room with polished, inlaid maple flooring, a massive stone fireplace mantel, and walk-in closets the size of a small bedroom he’d once had as a child. His heart pounded, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. A high molded ceiling in ornate plaster provided a gothic appearance to the room. The family had furnished in earthy, simple furniture and tones. Off of it, another bathroom, this one large with a fully sunken tub and expensive accessories. A wall-length mirror, modern, adorned one wall. He scanned it and saw nothing out of place; just his, Tanya’s, and Hawkins’ reflections, their expressions benign.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Tanya gushed. “Robbie, I love the place. If they want to get rid of it this cheap, that’s our gain.”

  He wanted to agree with her because what he’d seen of the house so far had been wonderful. Hawkins brought them through the remaining rooms, up to the third story which consisted of four distinct sections of fully finished attic: a recreation style room, a small office, a play room, and a storage space where someone had built in a closet and intricate cedar shelving. The windows, although antique, were in sound shape. They finished on the main floor and basement, the basement a clean and solid concrete floor with a brand new natural gas furnace and recent plumbing. Electrical was up to code. Robbie couldn’t find a reason to fault the house, especially not for the price.

  “Wouldn’t a place like this net them a lot more?” he wanted to know.

  Hawkins shrugged. “Not everyone wants such a big house. It’s had a few showings prior to yours. Either they don’t want the maintenance of the grounds, or they don’t want to heat the place. It’s your gain if you don’t mind a big house, especially since you’ll be the folks who could turn around and sell it for a profit at any time, especially if you maintain it or add to it and you have the time to let it sit on the market for a while.”

  “It’s a solid investment,” Tanya said.

  “Yes,” Hawkins nodded. “A pretty good one, given today’s economic situation. The stock markets aren’t turning any real profit. Real estate usually turns over well.”

  “But we won’t want to sell it,” she added. “This is my dream home.”

  “What’s their closing date again?”

  Hawkins face took on the expression of someone who knows he’s snagged a deal. “Exactly a month from now – May 12th; it doesn’t give you much time to secure a mover, but I’m sure I could pull a few strings. Then there’s the usual paperwork, but given you sold your last place for just under the price of this one…you’ll owe peanuts on a mortgage; less than most people’s car payments for a couple of years.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Tanya beamed. “The kids are going to love it. Don’t you love it, Robbie?”

  He glanced around the main foyer again. They walked outside and took a look at the general grounds. The house came with ten acres of property.

  “Yeah,” he said finally. “It’s quite the deal.”

  They had the papers signed and everything approved by eight o’clock that evening and the house was theirs. He thought of the mirror in the guest bathroom, but cast it from his mind. He’d not grown up in an old house, had never lived in one, and scratched the impression up to that of someone who felt a little spooked by a house so large. It had been a trick of shadow and light, he reasoned. Nothing else.

  * * *

  Their youngest son, Cory, who was nine, had the most questions about the house. They’d brought all three kids, Chris, eighteen; Cole, fifteen; and Cory, wedged between his brothers in the back seat, to see the outside of the place a week before the move. They’d all (especially the older two) been both curious and insistent upon knowing where they were about to live.

  Chris, who was about to begin college the coming autumn, peered at the house through the car’s side window.

  “It looks like the house in ‘Salem’s Lot,” he commented, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t know if I like it.”

  “How can you not like it?” Ta
nya asked him. “The rooms are huge. You’ll each have oodles of living space.”

  He shrugged. “It just doesn’t look like a home.”

  “You’re too used to the modern bungalow,” Tanya continued. “Once you become accustomed to a house like this, you’ll never go back to the other.”

  Cole just said “Cool,” and asked which bedroom could be his.

  “Any one you want,” Robbie told him, “other than the master bedroom. There are six rooms on the second floor.”

  Cory looked enthralled. “Does it have any hidden stairways or secret rooms?”

  Robbie laughed. “I don’t think so, but you can always make-believe.”

  “How old is it?”

  He squinted as he recalled the realty sheet. “It’s almost 140 years old.”

  “That’s old,” Cory said. “Is it haunted?”

  The question made Robbie swallow hard. He hadn’t thought about his impression in the mirror for a few days, but now that feeling of initial unease rushed back at him.

  “No,” he said. “Why would you think that?”

  “Aren’t all old houses haunted?”

  “I don’t believe this one is,” he said, “but if there’s a ghost, I’m sure it’ll be a friendly one.”

  “Our house was haunted,” Tanya said. “We had all sorts of experiences there.”

  “Oh, don’t get him going.” Robbie gave Tanya a look that said ‘we have to live in this place now; we don’t want him crawling into our bed every night with nightmares.’

  “We’ll just call it Casper if there is one, okay?” Tanya said, good-natured.

  Chris rolled his eyes and Cole guffawed. They drove on.

  Moving day rolled around faster than they could keep up with their schedule.

  Chapter 5

  The moving truck had backed up the long drive so that the four workers could unload through the big double doors leading into the main foyer. Robbie had Cole and Chris help Tanya while he sorted boxes to various locations, and sent Cory outside to play and explore the grounds.

  “But stay within eyeshot of the house, okay? If I call you, you need to hear me,” Robbie told him.

  “Can I come back inside if I get sick of it out there?”

  “Of course you can. But don’t get in the way of the movers.”

  “Yeah, Dad.”

  “Good boy,” he said. “You can go upstairs and take a look at the bedrooms; see which one appeals to you.” This excited him. He bounded up the big wrap-around staircase two steps at a time, making Robbie’s heart leap, lest he trip and fall. He heard his running-shoed feet hit the top of the landing and grinned to himself. It was the right move, he thought. The place would give the boys room to grow.

  Over the next three hours the movers, Tanya, Robbie, and the older boys got every box and item into its respective room. Finally, it was done. Robbie thanked the movers, signed the necessary paperwork, and they were on their way, leaving them in their new-old house. Both Tanya and he had the next week off to get themselves set up here. For tonight, he would concentrate on getting beds arranged with some linens, a few lamps plugged in, and a fire going in the woodstove in their living room so that they could have some heat rise to the upper floors.

  Tanya busied herself in the kitchen, opening and unpacking boxes. Robbie walked over to her and hugged her. “Congratulations, Mrs. Parker. Shall we summon the staff in to prepare dinner and set the table?”

  “Oh, don’t you wish,” she giggled. “I think ordering out would be a good idea for this evening. What do you think of Chinese? I crave some chow mein.”

  “We can do that. The boys might want pizza.”

  “Well, they can have pizza then. Where’s the wine we brought?”

  He pondered. “Hmm…I think it’s still in the trunk of the car. I’ll go get that.” He kissed her and strode outside, noting how clouds had begun to push out the sun, throwing the day into a kind of subdued golden sunset. He retrieved a cloth bag containing six bottles of various wines they’d picked up, shut the trunk, and turned back to the house, his gaze perusing the various floors, examining the stones and looking for anything that might require some pointing and plaster work before the winter. When his gaze reached the attic window that jutted out from that quarter of the house, he saw the shape of an adult form, the silhouette dark against the paler backdrop of the window, watching him. The form looked male, stoop-shouldered. He stopped walking, gripping the wine bag, his mouth coming open with surprise. He brought his other hand up and over his eyebrows to cut the glare of the day. The figure stepped back from the window. He ran to the house, hearing the wine slosh, and pushed into the kitchen. Tanya stood by the pantry, stacking canned goods along a shelf. She whirled to face his commotion and saw his face as he placed the wine bag on the floor.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Were you just upstairs in the attic?”

  “No. I’ve been here the whole time.”

  “I’ll ask the boys,” he said, turning towards the main stairwell.

  “Why?” she called out. “It’s not a big deal if they go up there. It is a finished attic. Maybe one of them would like a bedroom up there.”

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said. He ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, thinking about the form he’d seen at the window. It had been a man’s form and had looked bigger, taller than any of his sons with their lithe, adolescent frames.

  He found Chris and Cole sitting together in the bedroom Chris had chosen. They were setting books up on a built-in bookshelf. They glanced at him as he stepped in the doorway.

  He was out of breath. “Were either one of you just upstairs in the attic?”

  They regarded him, puzzled.

  “No,” Chris said. “We’ve been in here for the past hour, arranging stuff.”

  “Where’s your brother?”

  Cole shrugged. “He’s been exploring the house. He’s around. Maybe he went up there. Is something wrong?” Cole asked. He held a copy of a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories in his hand.

  “No,” Robbie stammered. “Just wondering where everyone is. I’ll go find your brother. You guys want Chinese food or pizza for dinner? We’re ordering out.”

  “Pizza,” they said unanimously, without hesitation.

  “Thought so.” He then went through each of the other bedrooms, looking for Cory. The shape he’d seen in the attic window had not been that of a little boy. Cory had chosen the bedroom across from Tanya’s and his, and he saw that Chris and Cole had helped him set his bed up and to put his room in order. A few opened boxes revealed his toys, puzzles, games, and some clothing. But he wasn’t in there. The only room on this floor that he hadn’t checked was the guest bedroom. He hurried along the corridor, past his other two sons who were engaged in conversation again, and stepped into it. It was the only room on this floor that remained devoid of furniture. They didn’t have a guest bed, and none of the boxes had been directed here. They weren’t sure what they’d do with this room yet. Tanya had mentioned possibly turning it into a study for the boys. It contained an empty, cavernous feel, his footsteps echoing against bare walls.

  “Cory? You in here?”

  No answer. More flies hummed in the windows and the closet door sat propped open an inch. The bathroom with the mirror that had bothered him waited at the other end of the room, like a held breath. He didn’t realize he’d clenched his palms until he felt his fingernails dig into the skin.

  “This is stupid,” he said. He strode over to the closet, a tall stained oak door and gripped its handle, hauling it open. A dim maw awaited him, its clothes bar empty other than a few abandoned metal hangers. The door’s coat hook was painted the same pale yellow as the plaster walls inside the closet. He listened, although he couldn’t have told anyone what he listened for.

  “Cory?”

  Something dropped in the bathroom behind him; a soft noise, like a matchstick hitting the surface of something solid. He whirled and stared
at the bathroom. Its open doorway provided him a partial view of the window. The mirror waited on the opposite wall. A feeling of dread seized him, but also an inner pulling. He felt as if the mirror sensed his proximity and somehow prepared itself. It called to him, with a gentle yet persistent persuasion to come, take a look.

  “Cory? I just want to know where you are.”

  Silence like this felt like a hand whose cold fingers brushed the sides of his face, teasing, tickling.

  He hurried into the bathroom. He’d just bought this house for his family and here he was, scared of being in this room, a room just up the corridor from where they’d all sleep, and more scared to look around the corner at a piece of looking glass. He saw the shower and tub, its plain white plastic curtain drawn back. He realized that he stood with his left profile to the mirror. He could see the shimmer of glass from the corner of his eye. Turn and look at it.

  He whirled, his eyes wide as he stared at himself.

  It was just him, looking almost furious. He stepped closer and examined his eyes. They were still just his, and yet he felt mocked, as if someone hid behind something and laughed quietly at him. He stepped back from the glass. No play of light. It was just an undecorated room that looked too stark without any semblance of ‘home’ in it yet.

  Cory was not here. He looked inside the cupboards beneath and beside the bathroom sink. Empty. He walked back into the corridor where he heard Chris and Cole laughing over some shared joke.

  “He’s got to be upstairs,” Robbie mumbled.

  “You find him yet, Dad?” Chris called out.

  “No. I’ll look up in the attic, then outside.”

  * * *

  He stood at the mouth of the attic.

  “Cory?” His voice echoed in its vastness. “Where are you, son?” A walk through each of the rooms produced nothing.

  He must still be outside playing, Robbie told himself. But when it began to rain heavily, Robbie became concerned.