The Cracks In Her Mirror

Chapter Two

            The only thing Niko was good at was drawing. He had hundreds of drawing pads piled up in his closet. He’d been drawing ever since he was a kid. He had always thought that there was something very special about drawings. A lot of them were very similar to photographs. He thought photographs were pretty cool, but unlike photographs, drawings contained a little spin on reality that came from how the artist viewed the world. No matter how realistic he made an image, there was always a little piece of him engrained in every stroke of graphite on the plain white paper. Unlike photographs, with a drawing, Niko could create a new reality. Niko was always comparing the two in his mind because his mother was a photographer. She was a sellout though in his mind. She used to take pictures for the love of it. She used to take pictures of things she thought was beautiful and of moments she never wanted to let escape her. Now she worked at a studio in Sears taking family portraits of boring people with plastic smiles trying to make it seem like they lived in some kind of domestic paradise. Her photographs used to mean something. They used to be interesting. They weren’t anymore. He didn’t give her too much shit about it because she had to pay the bills somehow. His father worked for minimum wage at a paper clip factory and his checks just weren’t cutting it.

            Niko’s most recent drawing was of his little sister. It was a portrait this time. In the picture, she was smiling and her eyes were very large and curious, just like they had always been. His sister was his favorite person in the world. She was a smart kid. She had always been observant and insightful despite her youth.

            There had been a knock on his door and he didn’t bother answering. He knew his mother would just barge in anyway. She always did.

“Dinner is ready,” she said. She was smiling. The thing about his mother is that she was always smiling, but it never reached her eyes. She had sad eyes. Whenever he drew her, he would draw her with happy eyes. That’s what he liked about drawings. He could always alter reality just as much as he wanted to.

“Not hungry,” he said quietly. His mother frowned.

“Well, what did you eat?” she asked.

“I’m busy,” Niko muttered.

“With what?” she asked him, “Those drawings again?” He pursed his lips and didn’t answer. He was sitting at his desk and he wasn’t interested in the conversation anymore. He had things to do.

“Al!” she called out, “Tell your stubborn son to come down to dinner!” Niko sighed. She always did that. It wasn’t like he listened to his father anymore than he listened to her.

            Niko always did his best to avoid eating dinner with his family. The silence at the table was never comfortable, and when it wasn’t silent, his mother was badgering him with questions about school and life and his nonexistent girlfriend. Niko felt that monogamy was depressing and unnatural. He thought that most girls were uninteresting and he couldn’t see himself staying with one for any elongated period of time. He felt that even if he met an interesting one and liked her, he would eventually get bored with her and the whole relationship would be annoying and torturous. Of course, there was the possibility that he would meet someone that could hold his interest, but he wouldn’t believe it until it happened. His mother stared at him expectantly and he sighed.

“Fine,” he gave in, “What’s for dinner?” She grinned.

“Your favorite.” Niko was mildly annoyed when she said that. He didn’t actually have a favorite but for some reason, his mother chose to believe he did. He went down the stairs, entered the kitchen, and found his father rummaging through the cupboard.

“Where’s the salt?” his father asked. Niko’s father always drowned every dish he ate in salt and then acted all surprised when it ran out.

“Probably in the sewer by now,” Niko said disinterestedly. He opened up the fridge though he wasn’t looking for anything in particular.