Mirror Mirror

Chapter 4

Stephen sat on his favourite couch in the corner of his small living room.  It was an old couch, but it was a sentimental piece of furniture in the modest brick house his mother had left him.  She was eventually taken from him too. 

He sat and mulled over the events of the day.  It was a good day turned bad, he decided, after that one little word changed everything.  He hated arguing with Sarah, but he had to admit she was acting strangely.  But then again, maybe it was just his overactive imagination.

Maybe if he caught an early night, he’d see things more clearly-put them into perspective.  It was an eye-catching piece of work.  There must be something on it somewhere.

He’d start tomorrow.   Right now, he’d get some sleep...

Another restless night awaited him.  The sound of water rushed through his head, a distant conversation, between father and son, laughter, and then...  He heard his father yell for him to hold on tight, but his small, slippery hands couldn’t.

He was a little boy of eight.  What was he to do?  The boat tipped over, throwing both him and his father into the angry, white waters.  Into the river below.

“Dad!”  He’d called out in a panic, but there was no answer.  Just the emptiness and the sound of rushing water.  He was all alone.

A scared little boy, holding on for dear life.  Holding on to a capsized boat, while his father drowned beneath it.  It was funny, that what gave one life, drained life from the other.  He woke up sweating, shaking and disorientated.  He hated that dream.  It usually left him reliving that scene over and over in his mind.

Lying in bed, he went over that day again, scene by scene.  After the rescue, his mother had hugged him fiercely.  When he’d asked for his dad and she told him that he was gone, he was shocked. 

It wasn’t your fault, it was just an accident. 

He had been too stunned to do anything then, so he just didn't react.  It was strange though, that he remembered exactly what she was wearing that day-a navy blue knee high skirt and a white silk blouse dotted with the tears she tried so hard to hide in front of him.  Her hair was swept up in a neat bun at the nape of her neck and her long string of fake pearls had broken when she released him.  As he had watched the tiny white beads bounce and scatter on the dull gray tiles in slow motion, he took himself one step further from the pathetic little boy who failed his mother, to the rock she had come to rely on. 

Everything had changed for mother and son after that.  The little business his father owned had to shut down to pay the debts he’d owed, the house went up on the market, but his mother had managed to persuade the bankers to hold on until she could pay it off.  That led to her getting two jobs, one from seven in the morning till four, and the other from five to eleven.

All her lunch and coffee breaks had been used up checking on her son.  She couldn’t give him what the other kids had, but she gave him lots of love, and that was for free.  He didn’t want to disappoint her, so he’d tried his best not to bother her with his little issues.  He did odd jobs for pocket money, hoping that it would take the pressure off her.  He’d tried hard to make her life a little easier, but then she too was taken abruptly away from him…

When he opened his eyes again, the room was bright and warm with sunshine.

His mornings were quiet and peaceful unlike his nights.  Thinking about the night again, he realized that the dreams had been coming more frequently, as if it was a prelude to some kind of danger.  He had a lot of digging to do today.  First, he had to make some calls. Grabbing a cup of freshly brewed coffee, he picked up the phone punched in the number.

He took a sip waiting for an answer.

“Yeah?” A voice crackled on the line. 

Jarrod Bailey a.k.a. ‘The Chameleon,’ was a hacker among other things, although he preferred ‘multi talented and genius.’  He and Stephen had grown up together, never really friends, but not enemies either.  Stephen had stood up to defend him one day and ended up being beaten by the bullies himself.  He missed an important ecology fieldtrip the next day and he did really badly in the paper on it, so Jarrod hacked into the school systems and altered his scores.  Stephen only found out later, angry for the gesture, but thankful that he’d passed anyway. 

Stephen often called him up whenever he hit a wall trying to trace back an item at the little antique shop where he had a part time job.  He worked there four times a week and got paid well enough, not that he had to work right now, but because he enjoyed it.  It filled his free time, and he had a lot of that.  His mother had opened up a trust fund for him when his father had died, and she had accumulated quite a sum.  He only found out about it when he’d turned eighteen, but that was beside the point.  She wanted to make sure that her son was well taken care of, because somehow, she knew that she wouldn’t be around to see him grow older.

“Jarrod?”  And after a few short words, “I need your help again.  Find out what you can about. . .”

He held the phone to his ear as he typed. Stephen was always there to bail him out whenever he ran into trouble, so yes, he’d help whenever the need arose.

“You got that?” Stephen asked.

“Got it,” Jarrod replied, his fingers rapidly hitting the keys. “I’ll call you back when I get something.”

He sighed and hung up the phone.

  Sarah stretched out luxuriously on her bed.  That was the best nights’ sleep she’d had in weeks.

She felt refreshed even as she slid out of bed and climbed into the shower. Later, as she sat in front of her new mirror and brushed her hair, she noticed that she looked a little different somehow.  She blinked back in surprise at the eyes looking back at her, and then it was gone.

‘Probably the sleep.’  She thought.  ‘I did have a wonderful night.’  Aloud she said, “Maybe the angle.  I need to get this mounted.” 

She wondered how Stephen was doing this morning.  Maybe he’d changed his mind about the curse.  It was a stupid thing to say in the first place. She began carefully applying her make up.

Yes, she might as well phone him now and ask him over, just to make sure there were no hard feelings after last night.  The phone was engaged.  ‘Well, at least he’s up.’

She was bored already with campus closed for the holidays.  She had first taken the course just to keep her occupied after her aunt had died, but then she found that she really enjoyed art.  Stephen was there for a pick me up whenever she needed, and Terry, Mickey and the air head twins were annoying most of the time, but they were funny even though they were not trying to be.  She wondered if she would have turned out as shallow as they were if her parents had been alive.

Well, she would never know.  It didn’t matter now anyhow.  She doodled on the cover of her sketchbook absentmindedly as she walked back up, but as placed her foot on the last step, she heard something, a creaking sound.  She stopped, waited and listened . . . nothing.  Shrugging, she went into her room.

You’re such a scaredy cat Sarah.  Carry on moping around the house, and you’ll start believing in curses too.  Taking a deep breath, she dialed Stephen again.