Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ereader for textbooks txt) 📗

the years. It was thick and heavy, and I’d wrapped twenty elastic bands tightly around it. The journal lived concealed in my wardrobe; there was a drawer at the bottom which I removed and hid items underneath.

I started with The Texan—how he’d walked, what he’d looked at—then moved on to The Coalman. Then I wrote everything I could remember about The Suit and where I’d seen him. He was the most important entry in my journal to date. I even underlined his name three times to indicate his importance.

Downstairs, the phone rang, and I closed my journal and returned it to its hiding place. Then I lay on my bed and stared up at the ceiling where I’d placed my favourite Bruce Lee poster from Enter the Dragon. Our gardener Fred had told me all about Bruce Lee, and we’d watched his films together on his little black-and-white television. Sometimes I spoke to Bruce, asked him what he would do in my shoes, though he never answered me. I think I’d be quite taken aback if he ever did.

I’d been on my bed for all of a minute when I heard Mum shouting for me to come down. I hadn’t even realised she had acknowledged my presence when I arrived home from work.

As I walked into the lounge, I knew I was about to get another talk about this morning’s police car ride. She only ever called me down to speak to her when I’d done something wrong.

‘Care to explain why you were seen getting a ride home with the police this morning, John-Michael?’ she asked with a hand on her hip which jutted out through her skirt. She’d grown thinner since Dad died.

‘I wasn’t doing anything wrong, Mum. PC Williams gave me a lift home,’ I told her reflection as I twiddled my hands behind my back.

‘The police don’t just give free rides,’ she said, walking over to the record player to lift up the arm. ‘They’re not a taxi service, John-Michael. Do you know how embarrassing it is to hear all about it from Mrs Nosey-Nelly?’

I rubbed at my head as I searched through my memory, trying to identify who this woman was. I came up blank.

‘Who’s Mrs Nosey-Nelly? Do I know her?’

‘It’s Mrs Kelly. Don’t change the subject.’

‘Then why did you call her Mrs Nosey-Nelly?’

Mum sighed loudly, then slumped into her favourite seat, almost spilling her drink as she went down. ‘Do I have to explain every tiny detail of everything I say? God, I’m sick of it.’

I opened my mouth to respond, but she interrupted: ‘Is there anything in that brain of yours? Do you have the slightest comprehension of how your actions affect me?’

Her voice rose and rose in pitch until it would only be audible to the dogs roaming the streets. Heat rose to my face, just as it seemed to in hers. I backed up to the door, then turned and ran.

Her voice came down a notch as she shouted, ‘That’s it! Go running off to your grandad, like a baby!’

Tears pooled in my eyes, blurring my vision as I found my way through the house. You would think I’d have got used to it by now—the jabs and snide comments. They were always worse when she’d been drinking.

I burst into Grandad’s office without knocking.

‘She’s at it again!’ I yelled at my grandad’s reflection in the mirror to my right.

Grandad sighed, set down the newspaper he’d been reading, and looked back at me in the mirror.

‘It’s not she—that’s the cat’s mother. And what over this time?’ he asked.

I stepped inside, letting the door swing closed behind me. ‘Sorry, Grandad, and sorry for not knocking too.’

‘That’s alright, John-Michael. Just don’t forget next time. Tell me what’s wrong,’ he said, folding his arms on the desk in front of him.

‘Mum was listening to her records, then she got a call from Mrs Kelly—do you know Mum calls her Mrs Nosey-Nelly?’ I asked him, switching my attention to the mirror on my left.

‘Focus on what you wanted to tell me, John-Michael.’

‘Oh right, yes. She shouted me down and asked me why I’d got a lift home in the police car this morning. I told her I hadn’t done anything wrong, which is the truth—’

The sound of breaking glass echoed down the hall, making me flinch. I couldn’t bear the noise of shattering glass. ‘Not one of my mirrors again…’ I groaned, wiping at my head as my brow furrowed.

‘It can be replaced, you know this. Now, you stay here until I come back,’ Grandad said, slowly rising from his brown leather chair. His bones clicked and popped as he stood. I’d told him numerous time he should see a doctor, but he’d told me he had a feeling his joints needed replacing and there was no way he could be off his feet. Plus, he didn’t trust doctors, anymore. Not after Dad.

I moved the opposite way round the desk to avoid his path, and as he closed the door behind him, I sank into the newly vacated plush leather seat. He’d got it from Claude’s Antiques with a hefty discount.

I loved this room; Grandad had made sure there were enough reflections for me to look into. Any reflective surface would suffice—people’s glasses, cutlery, shop windows, puddles—but I favoured mirrors above all.

My family catered to my needs as much as they could, though they didn’t understand it. They all told me my strange habit had affected them all in some way, but especially Mum. Everything seemed to affect Mum the worst.

Loud voices drifting through the walls made me sink back into the chair. Raised voices only meant one thing in this house; they were arguing about me. I was one of the two things they argued about most: me and money. They had been this way ever since Dad died; a day I will always remember. A day that changed all our lives forever. Tina said Mum and Grandad fought like cats and dogs. I asked her