Mirror Mirror

•5•

Erik was an absolute genius.

I had discovered that much for myself when I was stuck in his tent for a week, but only in those short few days I spent in Boscherville did I begin to grasp the depth of his genius.

Mademoiselle Perrault excitedly told me stories of his achievements, showed me diagrams and drawings of buildings he had perfected, and presented me with musical scores he had thought up at as early an age as four years old.

But then Madeline always spoke up of his nasty attitude and his love for no one but their deceased dog, Sasha.

According to his mother, Erik was a little devil as a child with an obsession for tricks and mirrors, but, she admitted, she was no better.

It was a poisonous relationship they had, this beautiful mother and her genius son.

Madeline spoke of many things, deciding that if I was Erik's wife I had the right to know the circumstances that led to our fated meeting.

She spoke so harshly of the boy, but when she glanced to a small dual-picture frame on the fireplace mantle her features softened and I could see the love she held for Erik deep within her eyes.

"Charles- his father- would have handled him so bunch better than I ever did . . ." Madeline sighed heavily, standing to take down the picture. "I decided to love him too late . . . When I went to wake him that morning . . . he was gone. He was only a child . . ."

She handed the picture frame to me and I took it gently. There were two portraits, a woman on the left and a handsome man on the right. The woman I recognized instantly as a younger, somehow even more beautiful Madeline. The man, however . . .

"That was Charles; Erik's father." Madeline told me, sitting on the couch beside me. "He passed away not long before Erik was born."

I stared at the handsome couple for a few minutes before standing and placing the picture back on the mantle.

The tired woman sighed again as she watched me. "I apologize for not having any skirts for you to wear." She began, staring at the outfit I had been given on my first night in her home. "His clothes suit you, you know."

I glanced down at the boy's ruffled white dress shirt and fitted black slacks. I wore a pair of his stockings as well, and a pair of shoes he had grown out of. It wasn't hard to think of that boy- Erik; the sorcerer; the Living Corpse- wearing such a pristine outfit, but it was tremendously difficult to see myself in it.

I shook my head, a grimace tugging down at my lips as a suddenly immense feeling of discomfort and fear filled me to my very core. "No . . . No, Señora Madeline, please take them back. I am far to dirty to wear such nice things! Far too dirty to be in your home!"

I held out my arms desperately to the beautiful woman, praying that she would tear the shirt off my back and throw me into the cold. It was what a Romany poshratt like me deserved.

Instead the woman stood with a look of stone and slapped me faster than I could register. It was not a harsh slap, but it shocked me all the same. "You shall not speak that way about yourself!" Madeline ordered as my ears began to ring and my hands began to shake. "You are a beautiful young girl who-"

I did not get to hear the rest of her sentence as my body convulsed and I collapsed on my back onto the carpeted floor. My hands contorted into grotesque shapes as my arms curled in on themselves upon my chest, and though I was not biting my tongue, I could feel the limp muscle fall back over my throat and I began to choke because of it.

"Madeline, turn her on her side!" I vaguely heard Mademoiselle Perrault shout, followed by the sensation of hands upon my violently convulsing body. I hardly understood what was happening until my tongue fell to my inner cheek limply and I could breathe once again.

I could tell that the women were unsure of what to do after that, but I soon found myself tightly wrapped in a heavy blanket and pulled up onto the sofa's cushioned seat. I could not feel the arm that wrapped around me at first- the blanket being far too thick- but it became apparent that I had been pulled into someone's embrace when my body began rocking gently in a rhythm far too slow to match my seizure. And then there was humming.

Madeline's voice began humming above me as she rocked back and forth. She had such a lovely voice . . . And for the first time in a very long while, I felt safe.

What felt like hours passed by before my body finally allowed me to lose consciousness, and I fell asleep in my mother-in-law's arms.

~

Nearly a week passed by without incident in Madeline's house after that night, though it became apparent that the two women were walking on eggshells around me.

Madeline baked feverishly, seemingly unsure of what else to do, and Mademoiselle Perrault, it seemed, wished that nothing would startle me- taking precaution in everything we did.

I was fragile to them, and it frustrated me to no end that they wouldn't even let me bathe by myself, let alone do anything strenuous.

What I truly enjoyed, though, were the French lessons that Mademoiselle Perrault provided me with. I was still a child and a quick study as children often are. I soaked up my lessons like a sponge, eager to refine the broken fragments of the French language that I already knew.

The days passed by like that peacefully, and it was only after a week had passed and I awoke one morning- finally comfortable with my setting and the routine we had settled in- that I realized I had to go.

It struck me so hard I nearly fell back onto my bed.

What had I been thinking? I could not stay! I had to find Erik!

I quickly scrambled out of bed and rushed to put on the gypsy clothes I had been wearing when I first arrived at the Destler household.

Collecting my things, I made sure to take only what was mine before creaking open the door to my temporary room and sticking my head out. The house was silent and I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. Sneaking down the hall, I made sure to step only on the edges of the staircase so that the creaking wood in the center of the steps would not give me away.

I glanced around the parlor once before making a mad dash for the front door, knowing that I could not avoid the noise of opening it and hoping that I could run before the two women knew what had happened.

I had just grabbed the handle when I heard a heavy sigh come from the fireplace behind me. "I knew this would happen eventually." Madeline sighed.

I cringed and turned, ready to voice my apologies profusely and express my gratitude, but I could not find the words as I found Madeline staring at the portrait of her and Charles, a bundle of something wrapped up in her hands.

The beautiful woman turned and beckoned me forwards with a simple jerk of her head. I walked forward hesitantly, unsure of what was to come.

When I finally stopped before her, Madeline knelt down until we were at eye level with each other, then set the bundle into my arms, her pale hands covering the tanned skin of my own hands.

"There is food and water and a few francs in there, understand?" She informed me, her hands moving up to smooth down my hair and outfit in a very motherly gesture. "Now don't go spending it all at once, and save your food until you can find somewhere to eat." Her voice was stern, but breaking here and there with emotion. I nodded, my chest filling with warmth.

When she finally stopped fussing with me, Madeline looked up into my eyes and smiled painfully, pressing one dry hand to my cheek and wiping away tears I didn't know I was shedding. "You be safe, you hear me young lady? Go find Erik and when you do just remember to come back and see me, alright?" I nodded and sniffed, wiping my nose off on my sleeve. Madeline grasped me by the shoulders and pulled me close in order to kiss me on the forehead. "I'll tell Marie that you left." She said, standing back to her full height. I nodded once more and backed away towards the door, opening it just enough to let the early morning sunlight slip through.

"Thank you . . . Mother." I breathed, then turned out the door, shutting it and leaving that chapter of my life behind me.