The door creaked as Martin pushed it open. His nostrils were hit with the smell of mildew and musty air, and he grimaced as he raised a hand to his face. It had been several years since the house had been lived in after his grandmother was confined to a nursing home, and he’d never made an effort to check on the old place. Since there was no other family still alive, he was the only one who could have done so.
As he stood in the doorway, Martin shrugged out of his mud-caked coat. It had been a crappy day for a funeral, with rain pouring out of the sky as if God had decided to flood the world again. Then, while dropping a sodden rose on top of the casket, he’d slipped and fallen into the mound of dirt beside the gravesite. Dirt that had been exposed moments before he fell because a gust of wind loosened the tarp that covered it. By the time the priest and funeral home director were able to extricate him, he was caked in mud.
The rain abruptly stopped ten seconds later.
After that dreary affair, he’d had to drive across town to reach the lawyer’s office for the reading of his grandmother’s will. He was the only person in attendance, just as he had been for the funeral and burial. Martin still wondered why he’d even bothered driving three hours from his home in the city to attend any of it. No one would have cared if he’d just added the costs to his mounting credit card debt and phoned the lawyer to hear whatever depressing bequest he might have received. Even if his grandmother been wealthy, he wouldn’t have expected to get anything. All he’d ever received from his grandmother over the last ten years were reminders of mistakes he’d made and grumbling about never visiting her.
The rain started up again halfway to the lawyer’s office, and Martin cursed it as his old wiper blades started to squeak and squeal while they tried to keep up with the downpour. He jerked back at the sound of a loud pop, and then deflated when he saw that the driver’s side wiper blade had broken off and flown away with the howling wind. He slowed the car to a crawl for the remainder of the trip, squinting and straining to see through the waterfall that plunged across the glass.
His consistently awful luck continued when he finally arrived and heard the contents of his grandmother’s will. Not only had any possible monetary inheritance been vacuumed up by outrageous nursing home fees, but she’d also left him her old house. Along with the six-figure mortgage that was attached after she’d been forced to borrow against the house to pay for said nursing home. Martin had despised that house for so many years. Nothing good had ever come from it.
Now, standing just inside the door, with his mud-caked coat laying at his feet, Martin stared into the darkness with a feeling of dread that had been growing since he’d realized he would have to enter the house he’d avoided like the plague for the last ten years. He wanted to snarl and spit out the rage he felt at being saddled with the burden, but all he could work up was a depressed sigh. His life had been a series of failures and disappointments, so why should today be any different?
He reached out to flick the light switch just inside the door, but nothing happened. The power bill was no doubt buried under the other bills he’d been unable to afford, a pile that grew with increasing rapidity in recent years. For a brief moment, Martin thought about the letter that had arrived only moments before he got the call that his grandmother had died. That piece of official-looking paper had told him he had three days to vacate the apartment he’d been unable to pay rent on for the last few months. The back of his old car was filled with the few possessions he’d been able to hang onto as his life slowly spiraled down the drain.
Martin pulled a scratched phone from his pocket, pressing the screen until it registered his finger through the cracks spiderwebbing across the face of it, and then turned on the flashlight feature. Holding the device up, he took slow, dragging steps as he delved deeper into the creaky old home that once felt so comfortable and welcoming to him. That had been long ago, though, when he was young and the world had looked ready to grant his every desire.
The furniture was hidden under dust-covered cloth, thrown haphazardly during his last visit on the day his grandmother was transferred to the nursing home. He remembered little of that trip, aside from brief snatches of running through the rooms as quickly as possible while he made sure everything was covered and shut off.
With every step deeper into the house, he felt a growing tide of dread and fear. He didn’t want to be there. In fact, he wanted to turn, run away screaming, and never come within a hundred miles of the place again. At the same time, he was drawn forward by a compulsion he couldn’t explain. An impulse, a forbidden desire to look upon that which had ruined his life and cursed him to this depressing existence.
Though he tried to avoid it, tried to turn his steps away every chance he got, Martin soon found himself standing before the font of his eternal misery. Black velvet cloth covered the item hanging on the wall of a bedroom decorated in fashions that were at least thirty years out of date. His grandmother’s bedroom. He cursed her for always keeping this reminder of his greatest mistake. The cloth was an attempt to hide it, but instead only served to draw attention every time someone entered the room. Martin clenched his jaw as he reached out to touch the velvet, then grimaced in distaste. Before he realized he was doing it, his fingers clenched on the cloth and ripped it away.
He stared at the old mirror, framed with gold and further decorated by raised silver-leafed vines that twisted around the oval. It had always looked so ornate and delicate, and his hand had been slapped a hundred times as a boy when he’d reached out to trace along the decorative details. His grandmother admonished him each time, snapping that he’d ruin the filigree with his grubby fingers. He reached out now, his larger adult fingers shaking as he ran them along one of the vines and a silver leaf. In the end, the ornamental decorations had stood up to all the curious abuse he’d thrown at them.
If only the glass had been as sturdy. The light from his phone nearly blinded him as it was reflected back dozens of times from the cracked surface. Hundreds of lines crisscrossed the glass, radiating out from the lower edge where a younger and drunker Martin had stumbled into the mirror while trying to show off for his friends. He locked eyes with his shattered reflection, casting his mind back to those happier days.
* * * * *
Martin had just graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in the country, one that he’d only been able to attend because of a scholarship that covered the majority of his tuition. The week before graduation, he had applied for a coveted job at a large firm in the city. He received a call that very afternoon, less than an hour before he accepted his diploma, to tell him that he had been selected from a pool of hundreds. He would step instantly into a six-figure position with a firm at the top of his field, and his future was brighter than anyone could have imagined.
In honor of the achievement, his parents arranged for his large family to gather at his grandmother’s house the next day. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and old friends all arrived to celebrate Martin and the great things he was set to accomplish. He couldn’t remember ever seeing such pride in his father’s eyes, and his mother was unable to stop smiling as she circulated through the house to share her excitement with everyone there. He was the first in the family to reach such heights, and it seemed as if there was nothing that could stop him from reaching the very top. In his most private moments, Martin fantasized about stepping into a CEO role by the time he was forty.
His grandmother, aging but just as spry and strong as ever, had surveyed the merriment from her favorite chair in the den. Whenever Martin passed through, she graced him with a smile that seemed to be full of begrudging approval along with an impression that she had expected just a bit more. His steps faltered each time, and he fumed at the thought that he’d never do enough to make his grandmother truly proud of him. No matter what he did, she always thought he could do better.
He tried to ignore her, and instead turned his attention to his college buddies when they arrived. There was no alcohol served at the party, but one of them had stashed several bottles of vodka in the trunk of the car they’d shared. Martin snuck away with them to toast his success, laughing along as his friends insisted that he do a shot for each figure in his new salary. His head was whirling, and he should have stopped there, but then another friend called out and demanded he do a shot for each GPA point. Those four drinks would have assured he had few memories the next day. He thought he tried to stop there, but his last friend goaded him into doing a shot for each woman he’d slept with during his college years. While they laughed at his lame joke that there wasn’t enough vodka in the state, Martin drained the remainder of the bottle.
The next memory he had was of waking to a beating from his grandmother’s cane. She slammed it against him repeatedly, cursing him in the language of the old country that he’d never been interested enough to learn. She’d emigrated as a young girl, and Martin had always thought her foolish for holding onto the old traditions and superstitions of a backwater country that had never been even slightly important. He tried to wave her off as his head whirled and his stomach threatened to void its contents, but he only succeeded in shifting her blows to his back instead of his side.
Martin finally managed to get to his knees, then paused to stare in shock at the mirror in front of him. That was when he realized he was in his grandmother’s bedroom, and not the front yard as he’d expected. He raised a hand to his pounding head as he stared at the broken mirror and tried to remember what had happened.
“You foolish boy,” his grandmother hissed, thankfully stopping her abuse of him as she leaned forward on her cane. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“It’s just a mirror, grandmother,” he said, waving her away. Martin felt like he would puke soon, and he didn’t think she’d appreciate if he did it on her bedroom carpet. Which was a nauseating shade of brown, he now realized, trying not to look at it as his stomach roiled dangerously. “I’ll pay to have it replaced.”
“Simpleton!” she cried, slapping the back of his head angrily. “This mirror has been in our family for eighteen generations. We have protected it for centuries. You think you can merely replace what you have destroyed?”
“It’s just glass,” he scoffed, trying to rise to his feet as the room started to spin around him.
“Just glass?” His grandmother’s voice was horrified, and for the first time he began to wonder if she might be more attached to the mirror than was healthy. A flash of concern for her swept through him, but it was chased away by the rising gorge in the back of his throat. Martin pushed by her as he raced toward the bathroom, barely catching the words that followed in his wake.
“You have ruined us all.”
* * * * *
The day after the party, he’d been fired before he even started his new job. In his drunken stupor after breaking the mirror, he’d apparently sent an email to the CEO mocking the man’s attempts to reduce expenses while improving revenue. He’d followed that up with an overtly lecherous string of voice mails for the stunningly beautiful woman in HR who had interviewed him. His friends could be heard in the background of those messages, laughing and goading him into saying increasingly vulgar things.
As nervous as he’d been during the interview process, his thoughts had frequently turned toward trying to work up the courage to ask her out. He’d decided against it, for the moment, but had looked forward to getting to know her better once they were coworkers. The sexual harassment suit she slapped him with a week after the party made sure that would never happen.
Martin was forced to move back in with his parents as he struggled to find a new job. After months of dead-end interviews, he was forced to take a lowly position at a small company that paid him a tenth of what he’d been offered before the mirror. Seeing the looks of disappointment and pity on his parent’s faces had been the worst part.
Within five years, he and his grandmother were all that remained of the family. His father was the first to go, dying of a heart attack far too young. His mother passed within weeks of her husband, and his grandmother said his father’s death had broken her heart beyond recovery. Aunts, uncles, and cousins dropped off at depressingly short intervals. Most died in a series of improbable accidents, though some succumbed to illnesses that never should have proven fatal. Martin was forced to acknowledge the truth staring him in the face.
All of it was his fault.
Now, standing in the dark and deserted house, the last surviving member of his family, Martin stared at the mirror that was the source of his terrible luck. He cursed the day he’d first seen it. Why hadn’t his grandmother kept it locked away? It never should have been in a place where it could be damaged, he told himself. It was really her fault it had been broken. His drunken younger self never should have been able to touch it and set off such a series of horrific events. Martin opened his mouth and unleashed years of anger and depression with a scream that echoed through the empty structure that had once been a cheerful home.
With the force of all the hardships and pain he’d suffered, Martin slammed his fist into the mirror. The glass shattered again, sending new cracks across the surface. But it continued to mock him as the shards remained in place within the oval frame. Martin sucked in a breath as he felt the pain in his hand, and he raised his knuckle to suck the blood welling up from where the glass had sliced through his skin. His eyes found a drop of crimson on one of the mirror shards, and he reflected that the mirror had extracted a price from him yet again.
He stumbled backward to fall onto the bed, coughing as a cloud of dust flew up around him. “Useless,” he muttered, dropping his phone to the floor at his feet. It beeped a second later, and the light went out as the battery was drained. Martin almost laughed at how aptly that summed up his life. He was left in the dark, and he’d have to flail around to feel his way along the walls when he worked up the nerve to leave and return to his train wreck of a life.
Soon, his eyes closed as emotion overwhelmed him, and he cried over the events of the last decade. When he sensed brightness on his eyelids, he almost passed it off as his imagination. It didn’t fade, however, so he slowly opened his eyes to search for the source of the golden light.
It was coming from the mirror.
He was looking at a reflection of the room, and yet it wasn’t this room. In the reflection, the bedroom was bathed in the golden light of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was no dust in that room, and it exuded a vitality and life that had long ago drained from this room. Strangest of all, there was no trace of his own reflection. Martin stared at the mirror, convinced his mind had finally cracked along with the glass.
He jumped when a figured crossed the reflection, and he whirled to look behind him. The bedroom was faintly lit by golden radiance from the mirror, and he was still as alone as he’d ever been. Martin turned back to the reflection in time to see his grandmother settle into a chair in front of an antique vanity. She moved with a surety and vigor that he hadn’t witnessed since before the night of his graduation party, and his jaw dropped as he watched her loose her iron gray hair and begin to remove the makeup from her face.
Not long after, another figure entered the reflection. Martin stood up from the dusty bedcover, lifting his hand toward the mirror as if he could reach the person on the other side. His mother stood behind his grandmother, bending to plant a kiss on the older woman’s cheek. “Thanks for having us over, mom. Greg and I are going to call it a night.”
“I always enjoy your visits, dear,” his grandmother said, smiling up at his mother and patting the hand that rested on her shoulder. “Sleep well. Martin will be here tomorrow, and we’ll all get to spend the weekend together.”
His mother smiled radiantly, with the same pleasure and love he remembered from the good days. “I miss him so much, but I’m glad he makes time to visit from the city as often as he does.”
“He’s a good boy,” his grandmother said. Martin was shocked to hear such approving words from a mouth that had uttered only recriminations and hatred toward him for the last ten years.
He stepped closer to the mirror as his mother left the reflection, and he watched in rapt fascination as his grandmother completed her routine and settled into her bed. She switched off the light, and he was left looking at his own shattered face in the broken surface of the mirror.
* * * * *
Martin was convinced he’d gone insane, but he couldn’t stop watching the mirror. He hoped to catch another glimpse of what could have been. He was sure now that’s what he’d seen; the present day as it would have been if he’d never broken the mirror and unleashed whatever curse had destroyed his family and his promising future.
During the night, he left the room only long enough to find a chair and drag it into the bedroom. He placed it in front of the broken mirror, and then sat staring at the cracked glass with hope and dread. Hope that he’d see his mother again, and dread that the cracked glass would never again show him anything more than his time-ravaged face.
He dozed off at some point, and he woke to the sound of voices. His first thought was that someone had come to the house looking for him. Perhaps the lawyer had found another portion of the will that would increase the debt and obligation left to him by his grandmother’s death. But when he opened his eyes, he realized the voices were coming from within the mirror.
His grandmother was awake, sitting at the vanity again as she applied her makeup for the day. His mother was perched on the edge of the bed, talking cheerily about his own imminent arrival. Martin turned to look behind him at the dusty old bed, wishing he could reach out and touch his mother again. He’d never realized how much he missed his parents.
“Mom? Grandma?”
He whirled at the sound of his own voice, and yet not his voice. This Martin sounded more confident, happier about his station in life. He’d never suffered the sorrows and indignities that had plagued the last ten years. Martin watched as his own reflection appeared, smiling as his mother rushed forward to throw her arms around him. Mirror Martin was wearing a suit that would have paid off all the missed rent that had led to his current homelessness, and he walked with erect shoulders and a stately bearing instead of slumped shoulders that invited scorn and pity.
“That’s the welcome I always look forward to,” Mirror Martin said, smiling over his mother’s head at his grandmother.
“Where’s Patience?” his mother asked.
Martin sat up in his chair, gasping in disbelief. That was the name of the woman in HR! His jaw dropped once more as the blonde woman appeared in the reflection. She hugged his mother, and then stepped back to wrap an arm around Mirror Martin and lean her head against his shoulder. What was more, she was glowing in the way that only a prospective mother could. She confirmed his guess when she turned toward the mirror so that he could see the swell of her stomach.
“Patience, you look about to burst,” his grandmother said, rising from her vanity and crossing the room to place her hands on the woman’s belly.
Mirror Martin beamed at his wife. “The doctors say everything is right on track, and we should have another addition within a few weeks.”
The blonde woman hugged him tightly. “She’s been kicking like crazy this last month, so I think she might decide to come a little early. Even if it ruins Marty’s little schedule.” She smiled fondly up at her husband, taking any sting out of the words.
“A girl?” his mother asked, clasping her hands over her mouth in delight.
Patience nodded as she beamed. “We found out yesterday. I couldn’t take the suspense any longer, and I just had to know.”
“Junior is looking forward to a little sister,” Mirror Martin said, rubbing his wife’s belly. “He keeps asking if she’s here yet, and I think he’s convinced we left him with the au pair this weekend because we were going to bring back his sister.”
His mother laughed in a way he had missed so dreadfully. It was a bright laugh he hadn’t heard in ten years, before his life started to fall apart. Martin lifted a hand to the mirror, wanting to touch it but afraid that doing so might break whatever illusion he was witnessing. “He’s a precious little boy,” his mother said, wistfully. “I miss him terribly.”
Mirror Martin pulled his mother in for another hug. “He misses his grandma, too. You and dad will have to come out and spend a week with us in the city once the baby is born. You can spoil them both rotten.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” his mother said.
“Where is dad?” Mirror Martin asked. “I didn’t see him downstairs.”
There was the faint sound of a door closing, and a voice Martin hadn’t heard in years called out. “I saw the car. Are they here?”
“Speak of the devil,” his mother said with a fond smile. “Come on, let’s go tell him the good news.” She grabbed Patience’s hand, leading the woman toward the stairs. Mirror Martin walked out of the room with his grandmother on his arm, leaving the room in the reflection empty.
Martin swallowed, trying to work moisture into his dry mouth as he stared at the empty room. He longed to see his father, and he silently begged the people in the reflection to return so he could be a part of their life. Everything there was so perfect.
So happy.
* * * * *
Martin shoved the last of the stale sandwich into his mouth, dropping the plastic triangle it had come from to the floor with the other refuse of his new existence. Ravening hunger had forced him to leave the chair after a couple of days, and he’d rushed to the nearest gas station to buy as much food and drink as he could afford, so he wouldn’t have to leave again anytime soon. He’d even resorted to using a bucket for his bathroom needs, ensuring he could see the mirror as he did so.
He scratched his cheek, fingers rasping against the weeks-old scruff that was rapidly becoming a beard. He’d considered taking a break from his voyeuristic life to clean himself up, but he couldn’t risk missing another chance to see what his life could have been. Just three nights ago, he’d witnessed his grandmother receive the phone call that heralded the birth of Mirror Martin’s daughter. They were supposed to visit today, to show off the newest addition to the family.
His grandmother breezed into the bedroom a few hours later, bringing overwhelming joy in her wake. “This way, dear. I meant to have Greg drag it downstairs this morning, but I totally forgot.” Martin laughed at the sound of his father’s name. He’d yet to see the man in the reflection, but he’d caught his booming voice several times from outside the room.
Patience and Mirror Martin entered the bedroom, standing close together as always. Their every move let the world know how happy and in love they were. It sent a spike of anguish through Martin’s heart each time he saw them, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. The woman had less of a glow this time, but it was clear she was still basking in the newness of motherhood. There was a pink blanket cradled in her arms, and he saw a tiny hand poke out of it as the baby cooed over something or other.
His grandmother opened one of her closet doors, revealing a wooden rocking horse. It was freshly painted and had a blue bow tied around it. “Little Martin deserves to be spoiled just as much as his new sister.”
“He’ll love it,” Patience said, smiling as she looked at the rocking horse.
Martin nodded his agreement, tempted to open the closet behind him to see if he could find this reality’s version of the horse inside. He didn’t want to miss a moment of the life in the reflection, though.
“We’ll make sure the movers pack it,” Mirror Martin said. He smiled at his grandmother. “I can’t believe I finally talked you into this.”
“It’s time,” she said with a firm nod. “I want to be closer to my favorite grandson and spend more time with my great-grandbabies.”
“We have more than enough room,” Patience said. “I wondered why Marty bought a penthouse with so many bedrooms, but now I understand.” She smiled fondly at her husband.
The ultra-successful Mirror Martin shrugged. “What’s the point of all my good fortune, if I can’t share it with my family?”
Martin’s mother breezed into the room. “The truck is here, mom. I have the movers boxing up everything downstairs first.”
He stared at the mirror with mounting horror. She was leaving! Would they take the mirror along? His grandmother seemed to meet his eyes as she glanced at the mirror hanging on her wall. “Tell them to be extra careful with this, dear. I don’t want it damaged, not after I’ve let Marty spend so much money storing it in that vault.”
Martin felt the blood drain from his face. They were going to hide it away! He’d never get to watch them again! His mind cast about for a solution to the problem that had been presented. There had to be a way to make them take it to Mirror Martin’s penthouse.
In desperation, he stood up and reached out to grab the gold and silver frame. He shook it and shouted, hoping they might hear him. When that elicited no response, he could only watch in dread as his grandmother and mother left the room. Mirror Martin picked up a suitcase that had been outside the reflection. “I’ll put this in the car,” he told his wife. Patience kissed him before leaving, and he stood just in front of the mirror to glance around the room.
Martin beat the side of his fist against the glass, yelling for his reflected self not to leave. There had to be something he could do!
He felt a shard of broken glass slice through his skin, and he pulled his hand away with a gasp. There was only a tiny drop of blood, but he felt as though his body were draining of the vital fluid. He swayed on his feet as the room started to spin around him. Martin reached out to grasp the mirror frame for support, and saw Mirror Martin stagger and raise a hand to his head as if he were affected in the same way. The room spun faster and faster around him, until Martin was forced to squeeze his eyes shut against it.
When the feeling subsided and the churning in his gut began to fade, Martin opened his eyes to a brightly lit room. Sunlight was shining through gauzy curtains instead of being blocked by the heavy draperies he was accustomed to. He felt something heavy in his hand and glanced down to find he was holding a suitcase.
He whirled to look at the mirror. It wasn’t reflecting the room he was in. Instead, it showed a dark and drab room that was covered in dust and cobwebs. He was met by a reflection of himself as a broken man, the face in the mirror filled with confusion and fear.
“Marty, sweetheart! Are you coming?”
He smiled as he heard Patience’s voice from downstairs. His smile grew as the man in the reflection looked at him with horror and pounded against the mirror that separated them.
It was his turn to experience the joy and good fortune that had evaded him for too long.
“Coming, dear!”