THE MIRROR
"I'll take it!" you say excitedly. You run your hands along the worn wood of the mirror. It's a stand up mirror attached to a frame. It tilts back and forth, and you catch a bit of the sun and reflect it off the walls. It's a sturdy full length mirror, the wood a warm mocha color.
On the feet of the frame someone hand carved pansies and daisies rioting up the sides. They blend seemlessly with the frame and makes the overall impression that the only thing the carver had to do was to knock off the bark. The only thing wrong with it, is the mirror part. The glass is slightly cloudy and very wavy. The slight imperfection doesn't matter, you want it! Plunking down your 125.00 bucks was the easy part, getting it into your rust bucket however...
Once you're back in your loft, you set it in at least twenty places before deciding on a place by the couch. You spend an hour or two cleaning it, first cleaning off fifty years of grime and then rubbing in lemon oil to shine up it's surface. The mirror, however, is hopeless. The glass cleaner does nothing to clear up it's cloudy surface, neither does a good dose of bleach. The wood shines like gold when you're done.
For the next few days you smile every time you pass by it. Then the day to day business of your life happens and you forget it's even there. It melts into the decor of your loft.
**********
Weeks go by, the mirror a silent observer of your life. You had a birthday party for you friend. It was wild and everyone got drunk. The cake ended up on the floor, and several people slept over. The music was high and so were you, dancing with a broom wearing some guys shoes.
The company you work for cut back on its staff, and you lost your job as a researcher. That day left you sobbing on the floor. The mirror once again watching you. Laughter and comfort elude you.
"Am I really worthless?" you say looking the mirror. "I'm so stupid. I believed I had a career..." your reflection offers no answers.
But, your situation turns out great! You get a new job with a lot more pay and benefits, and celebrate by dancing around your apartment with the Beatles turned WAY UP! You cavort wildly in front of the mirror watching your figure wave and wiggle in the warped glass.
Along with your new job, you decide to get a new waistline and start a diet and exercise program. Three days of grapefruit and hard boiled eggs makes you crazy and you blow it one Friday night by spending the evening with "Ben and Jerry".
**********
There was the night a casual date turned out to be not so casual and you ended up trying to defend yourself. The guy was a co-worker and invited himself over. He works in another building has some good ideas, so you thought, why not?
The evening was going very well. He is polite and compliments you many times. You should have known something was up, he is very touchy feely. It makes you uncomfortable and wary. The sooner he leaves the better.
After a few drinks, he decides it is time to "get on the couch" and talk. You reluctantly sit at the very end, almost on the armrest. His hand strays to your knee several times, and you manage to remove it. He suddenly thrusts his hand all the way up your skirt, his arm pulling your head to his lips.
He rips and jerks at your underwear, while his slimy mouth captures yours. A voice yells out from nowhere, "You Bastard! Let her go!"
Frightened, the guy lets go of you abruptly, leaving you time to jump up and grab your handy-dandy baseball bat. The mirror crashes to the floor, and you swing at the guy connecting with his arm, head, groin, whatever is closest. He can't get out fast enough, while you are so hopped up on adrenaline you don't remember how he left and where the voice could have come from. You only know that he is gone, and you are safe.
**********
You've just spent the last three days off from work. You don't get days off very often, but when you do, you like to spend it out and about. On the third day you find that you are bored, and have a weary feeling, so you stay home and decide to cozy up with a good book. The day is cool, and rainy. Leaves fall from the trees and stick to your windows, making a collage of red, pinks and browns. You watch them cling and fly most of the day in between "traveling" the railroads of china with your favorite author.
Towards the early evening, you look up at the dying light in your loft. The shafts of light hit your mirror and bounce off, highlighting your face in autumn light.
'It's too bad that glass isn't clearer.' You say getting up, determined once and for all to clean that damn mirror!
The spray of the glass cleaner makes the light look fuzzy. You start scrubbing like a madwoman, mumbling and using lots of "elbow grease".
"I'm-going-to-clean-you-up-once-and-for-all!" Every word you say, you scrub harder. On the last word, you fall through...
**********
Once you have rolled to a stop, you open your eyes. "Son of a....." you think you've only fallen behind the mirror.
You fell all right, through the mirror into another room. Blinking, you shake your head, and pinch yourself, it hurts. Dreaming or awake, you can't tell at this point
"What the hell? Twisting around you gingerly touch the surface of an exact copy of your mirror. You can see your apartment through it! Pressing your hand flat to it, you can feel smooth cold glass. It doesn't give.
Now, you have watched all those shows on TV about UFOs. You have sat through hours of documentaries about mystical happenings, and out of body experiences. Did you believe them? Not really... And now? Perhaps, "I just fell into another dimension?" you ask yourself.
"Nah! This is a dream." It has to be. Events like falling through a mirror don't happen in your world. Convinced you are dreaming, you explore your new surroundings.
**********
First the bedroom, the place you landed in. The bed is a full size masterpiece of crisp, white, linen and fluffy bed pillows. You resist a giggly urge to lay down and mess it up. There is a faint smell of cinnamon and clove in the air, you recognize as a cologne your father once wore. Memories make you live in that scent for a moment, remembering how wondeful it felt to stand next to him on Sunday mornings before chruch.
You wonder if it is a man or a woman that lives here in your "dream". Your gaze is directed to the closet. "Ah HA! Watson, I think we have another clue."
The doors fold open, and you are treated to a tweed and wool feast. You haven't seen clothes like this since your grandfather died. The sweet smell of the cologne is stronger in here and you climb inside, leaning against the warm clothes. All the clothes are either suits or shirts. Tucked way in the back are some well worn jeans, carefully hung on wooden hangers.
Fingering the jeans and smiling, you realize that this is a man's home, you hope... "Oh yeah, this dream is getting good. I wonder what he looks like?"
Peeking out into the hallway you realize that this is a two story home. The stairs hug one side of a spacious living and dining room. You go down them slowly, hoping that you are alone. Meeting the man behind the closet is not something you are prepared for at this moment. You forgo the living room for the time being and go right to the study lurking behind the dinning area.
It is small with bookshelves lining every wall. A mahogany desk, with a green "library" lamp, dominates one side of the room. You immediately get a "cozy" feeling from the warm light, smooth wood and books usually gives you. Taking a glance at the books on the shelf, you are surprised to find a wide range of titles. On the desk, a book called "Alternate Universes" had the dog-eared look of recent use.
Books with titles such as "Grimoire" and "Demonology" lay piled on the floor. "Who the hell is this person?" you mumble picking up a book with "Black and White Magic" in the title.
Of course intermingled with such horrors are also a collection of D. H. Lawrence, Byron, and other expressive titles. "Some library..."
A growling stomach makes you wonder what's in the fridge. The kitchen is a marvel of small, space. "how can anyone cook in here?" You ask yourself.
On the counter is one blue porcelain teacup. You hold it in your hand, your fingers curving over it's delicate surface. It still has the dregs of tea in the bottom. The cup makes a pleasant "clinking" sound when you set it on the counter. Smiling you think of lips curling over the rim, and sipping.
The Refrigerator holds an assortment of vegetables, juice, bagels, and... clotted cream? "Ahhh Watson," you surmise, "The guy who lives here must be British."
You poke your finger into a half eaten piece of cake, and think about eating the chocolate eclair on the second shelf. While you are thinking, the front door opening and the unmistakable sound of a briefcase hitting the floor makes you start. He's home...
**********
An exhausted man opens the door to his apartment. Home, is a foreign word to him. This is not a home. Home means family, and place to feel safe. Living in the one city on the whole planet that horrifying creatures haunt was not his idea of safe and happy. He drops his briefcase on the table behind the couch, sighing.
Standing in the kitchen, you have no idea what to do or where to go. The first stupid thing you do it to slam the refrigerator door. "Shit!" you cry, then clasp your hand to your mouth, the second stupid thing you do.
'Oh God, why don't I just jump into the living room and yell surprise?' you think, trying not to breathe.
There is silence in the apartment. Was it was your over active imagination that heard someone come through the door? No, way. There is someone in the apt. You breathe, and begin to peek around the corner of the kitchen... slowly.
"AHHHHYEEEEE!!!!"
You are so startled that you jump up and hit the arm that was coming down to hit you. The stake the man was holding flies across the kitchen and thunks into the sink. You are standing face to face.
"Bloody hell!" He shakes his arm as if it smarted, and you are wide eyed and frightened.
Your first thought is to RUN! However, he is staring at you like you sprouted wings. "YOU!" his arms reach out to grab you.
Ducking, you push him against the stove and run into the living room. This way, that way, which way to go? The mirror! If you could only get there... In your rush to get away you trip and fall over the entry way rug. "Dammit!"
You fight with the rug that is twisted around your foot. "Wait please!" he is almost on top of you.
Throwing the damn thing across the room, you get to your feet, the momentum carrying you around the couch. "Please stop!" he yells following you around, his tone holding a note of desperation.
You dart one way around the couch, he darts another. Finally he tires of the "this way that way" game and goes over the top. You are too slow and he has you enfolded in his arms. "Oh god." he says over and over.
You struggle like a beast trying to get out of the embrace. He is stronger than he looks. Your heel connects with the top of his foot, causing extreme pain. He yowls and you break away with his fingers clutching at your shirt. He leans heavily against the banister with an "oof", with you trying to get away in one hand and his foot in the other.
Twisting out of his grasp, you lose a couple of your buttons, and head for the door. You stop in mid flight What the hell? You can't go out there!
You never make it up the stairs, as soon as you put your foot on the landing you are brought down heavily. He is holding you tightly by the legs. Try as you can, you can't get away.
He is breathing heavily, his masculine smell enveloping you. Not only are you winded, and trapped, but you are also hurting a bit, having landed on your side. His glasses are knocked sideways off his face. He holds you down as he crawls up your body, straddling you. "Please," he says, "I can explain."
This is it, cops, jail time. This can't be a dream, you hurt too much. You can smell him, see the beads of sweat on his forehead, feel his breath on your skin. You are very scared but say nothing. What could you say? Your breathing slows. "I know who you are." he begins.
"Like Hell you do!" you try to bump him off, but he is far heavier.
He takes your hands and holds them down. "Now are we ready to talk like adults?"
You want to say no! But there seems to be no way out of this, so you slowly shake your head yes. This could be a way to avoid jail... you hope. If this is truly an alternate reality you have stepped into, you don't want to spend most of it in jail.
The man relaxes and lifts up off your body. He sits there on the first step watching you the whole time you arrange yourself. He closes his eyes for a moment, not believing his incredible luck. there you are living, breathing right in front of him!
What you don't know is that he does knows you. He's watched your life unfold everyday through his side of the mirror. Now that you're really here he doesn't know what to do or how to tell you.
You however are watching him relax... Taking this as a sign, you coil, and then spring past him. "BLOODY HELL!" He is up and after you again, two steps at a time!
At the top of the stairs you dart into the bedroom. You are almost to the safety of the mirror, and can see the comfort of your room in the reflection of the glass. You race towards home... He is only a moment behind you. "STOP!!!" the anguish in his voice echoes around the room.
You can't go, the note in his cry stops you in your tracks. Turning around, keeping the mirror in your sight, you can see his hands are outstretched.
"Please.." his voice is harsh. There is something in the way he looks at you. His gaze hold you in place. "I can't lose you." he drops to the floor.
You look at him, and wonder what he is saying? Lose what? Lose who?
Confused by this man's words. you study his wan and exhausted form for answers. He is tallish, with slightly gray hair and certainly British. His glasses hide intense green eyes. Tweed, vest and tie hide the rest of his form. He is handsome, and extremely upset. sitting there, with his head in his hands. "What are you talking about?" you ask angrily.
"I've lost you already." his head is bowed and he slumps against the edge of the bed. "I've lost.."
You are still confused, but you are also affected by this man's voice. Crouching down to be on his level, you are still by the mirror just in case you need to escape. "What do you mean 'already lost' me?"
He gestures at the mirror. "See that?" he begins. "I've been watching you through that mirror."
His words shock you into silence. You stare at him stupidly. "Everything you've been doing since you purchased it."
"You saw EVERYTHING?" you are stunned. it was like a peep show. Through your mind you run the things you did, not remembering even half of them since you bought the mirror.
"Yes everything." he replied. If you go through that mirror again, I will lose you."
'Lose me? He doesn't even know me!' you think, trying to sort the real from the unreal. "Who are you?"
He smiles, the edges of his mouth curve invitingly. "I should be asking you the same. My name is Rupert Giles."
You sit back against his closet still as close to your escape as you can get. You want to know just how much of your life this handsome stranger has observed. He is handsome, you will give that much. When he smiles you feel your heart flutter in your chest. However, this is still a dangerous conversation, and you are annoyed as hell, ready to bolt. "So tell me. I want to know everything."
He sighs and raises his head. His face is not very far from yours. "You are beautiful." his voice is calm.
Ignoring his simple declaration, "I WANT to know." you say.
He beings his tale. "I purchased the mirror at what they call a 'Swap Meet'. I brought it home, washed it, and there you were. You were the most incredible woman I had ever set my eyes on. I ran several tests to determine if your were real and not some figment of my lonely imagination." his direct gaze makes you gasp.
"You weren't, you were real. To be honest, I was going to smash the bloody thing. Especially during that ridiculous birthday party. Then you danced with that broom, and look so adorable doing it. After that I couldn't stop...." Giles stopped talking.
You are impatient. "I want the rest." Just how much of your life had this man "participated" in?
"All right. After the party, I spent every night in your room." He says putting his hand on your arm. You swiftly break contact and back-crawl to the mirror. He freezes thinking that he'd make a mistake.
You don't go through....yet. But the need is there. He knows more about you that you wish him to know. You want to hear the rest of the story. "Okay," your voice is shaky, "More."
He doesn't move back to his place Staying closer to you, the tale beings again. "I watched the morning you lost your job."
You remember that day vividly. It was like your world has collapsed. You loved your job and was stunned that this could have happened. "I cried, yes... and I fell asleep by the mirror, and I dreamt...."
".... that someone was singing to you?" Giles finished your thoughts. You stare at him thinking that he is reading your mind. "No Love, I am not reading your thoughts."
Someone was singing to you. It was a low, wonderful voice singing a song you know well. In your dream hands brushed the hair away from you face, and set you on a soft lap. Your hiccuping sobs abated, and you felt calmer. After that you don't remember anything else, except that you slept deeply until morning. What was that song?
He hums the song before singing just a part of it, "Someone to watch over me...." He reaches out to you again. You shrink from his touch. "That night I stayed with you." he says falling back sadly
"I rejoiced with you when you got another job." he said suddenly breaking into your thoughts. "Your happiness was infectious." his smile lit up his face. "I quite enjoyed the music."
He was silent for a moment. You're still listening to his incredible tale, and feeling that your life had been on display. "Then that bloody bastard..." his voice is suddenly low, dangerous.
You know what he is talking about, remembering that guy you threw out of your apartment at the end of a baseball bat! Something dawned on you then. "Someone yelled. The mirror...fell!"
"I tried to get through."
"You couldn't."
He bows his head again, "No."
"I saved myself!" you say proudly. Why did it sound so hollow?
"What would have happened had you not had a bat with you?" he says voicing your unsaid thoughts.
If he saw that, he saw everything. Your bed folds out of the wall, your apartment being a loft and all. And you don't dress in the bathroom. "You saw me undressed???"
"Yes, I told you I thought you were beautiful."
The thought of him looking at you n... naked. You bow your head blushing hotly, your eyes filling up and spilling hot tears of embarrassment. He lifts your chin, "I've seen you at your worst and best. and think you're lovely. " he says kissing you lightly. The feel of his soft lips pressed to your shocks you down to your toes.
You open your mouth against his, caught in the moment. He smells of tea, and vanilla, an arm curls around your shoulder, while he supports himself on the other one. Pulling you closer, his kiss draws your passion out of you, like blood from a cut. His mouth opens and closes with yours, his breath tingling your face.
"Please.." you whisper against his lips. "I can't...." His mouth traps yours again parting your lips with his tongue. You let him, it darts in and out, teasing you.
You must have been crawling slowly back all the time, because you come back to reality as soon as your head bumps up against the mirror frame. It broke your control. "This isn't real..." you say slipping backwards through the mirror into your apartment.
**********