The Mirror - J. Morris (beginner reading books for adults .txt) 📗

His name is Daniel Jackson…Danny.”

“Mr Albany looked confused. “But you’re only about 20 years old yourself” he said. “You would have been a baby back then.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” replied Mary. “I meant he was a friend of the family.”

“Hmm,” said Mr Albany. “Daniel Jackson you say. I’ll check the records.”

            He disappeared into his office which was a converted bedroom and Mary could hear him shuffling through filing cabinets. He appeared with a ledger and sat on the lounge next to Mary. She looked on as he flipped through the pages.

“There doesn’t appear to be a Daniel Jackson in here, Mary. But records are only kept for ten years, so it’s possible that he did live here, but moved out more than ten years ago.”

“Are you sure?” asked Mary with a desperate tone in her voice. “Can you please check your files again? Please?

“I’m sorry, Mary, but this is all there is.”

Mary nodded in defeat. “Thank you anyway Mr Albany.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of any more help” he said.

Mary left and went back upstairs to her apartment.

            The next place to search was the internet telephone book. There were a few Daniel Jacksons in the area, more than she would have guessed. She phoned them all but time after time she was met with disappointment.

Maybe he didn’t even live in the area anymore. He could have moved away to start a new life in a new city, in a new state, possibly even in a new country and Mary would have no chance of finding him.

           She searched Facebook. There were hundreds of Daniel Jacksons around the world. She trawled through profile after profile, confident that she would recognise him even as an older man of 38 years. She messaged the fifty or so Daniel Jacksons that didn’t have a profile picture. She heard back from about half of them, still no luck. Maybe he was one of them, and didn’t want contact. She would have no way of knowing.

           Mary’s search had come to a dead end. It was as if Danny had never existed. Maybe he didn’t, she thought. Maybe he was only in her imagination after all, in which case she was insane; broken-hearted over a fictitious person, a ghost, a figment of her imagination.

           Another week passed. Mary went through the motions of living day to day. Working eight hour shifts and then going home to her lonely apartment to once again sit at the mirror, waiting for a sign.

          It was a Thursday evening that Mary caught the elevator to the third floor, sharing the ride with Mrs Talbot, an 89 year old retired school teacher. Mrs Talbot was dressed in long red pants with matching cardigan, and her mid length hair was permed and died grey to give it a uniform colour. Mary had never noticed the old lady before in the building.

“Hello,” said Mrs Talbot after they had exchanged a few glances.

Mary forced a smile. “Hi.”

They reached the third floor and both exited into the hallway.

“Do you live on this floor?” asked Mary.

“Yes dear,” she answered in her elderly creaking voice, “down the end of the hall.”

“Have you lived here long?” asked Mary.

“About 30 years or so,” answered Mrs Talbot.

Mary’s eyes widened and she suddenly saw a glimmer of hope.

“Can I ask,” said Mary, “did you know a young man who lived on this floor about 19 years ago? A Daniel Jackson?”

“Danny? Yes I knew Danny.”

“Oh my God,” said Mary emotionally. “Please, I need to talk to you about him.”

Mrs Talbot studied the young woman in front of her. “You’d best come inside, Dear. I’ll tell you all I know.” She led an excited Mary to her apartment at the end of the long hallway, and opened the door, inviting her inside.

“Sit down Dear. I’ll make a cup of tea.”

“Thank you. I’m Mary, by the way.”

“Emily Talbot” she replied.

“Nice to meet you Mrs Talbot”

“Just call me Emily, Mary.”

            She went to the kitchen and Mary sat on the edge of the sofa, tapping one foot excitedly. She could hear teacups clinking and a kettle being filled.

She looked around the apartment. It was bright and cheerful with plenty of sunlight streaming through the window. It was typically decorated in the old fashioned style with lace curtains and a floral patterned old sofa, colourful china figurines and plastic flowers in vases. The apartment was immaculately clean and tidy.

“There you go Mary” she said, placing a tray with two teacups, a teapot and milk and sugar and a packet of biscuits on the coffee table. She sat on the sofa next to Mary.

 “Mary…I’ve always loved that name. Danny had a girl named Mary. He was obsessed with her.”

Mary’s eyes began to moisten.

“Are you alright, Dear?” asked Emily, concerned.

“Yes I’m fine” she replied, wiping her eyes. “I just can’t believe I’ve found someone who knows Danny. I’d almost given up.”

“How do you know Danny, if you don’t mind my asking?” said Emily.

“He’s an old family friend,” Mary replied.

“Oh,” said Emily, a little puzzled at Mary’s answer. She poured the teas and stirred in some milk and sugar in her own cup.

She continued “Well, Danny was such a nice boy. He helped me sometimes to carry my groceries and I invited him to dinner quite a few times. An old lady gets lonely and it’s nice to be able to cook for someone occasionally. And he seemed to like the company. We had some nice chats. He had a very troubled life I understand. He told me his parents abandoned him as a child.”

“Yes,” said Mary, “he told me.”

Emily gave Mary a strange look. “How could he have told you that?”

“Oh! Sorry,” Mary replied. “I meant my parents told me.”

“Hm. Alright,” said Emily. “Anyway, he was constantly in and out of trouble with the police in his younger days. Running away from foster homes and the like. He fell in with a gang on the Southside. It wasn’t the real Danny. He was much better than that. I think he was just so angry with the world, angry at his parents. And who could blame him. I wish I’d had a son like Danny. He only needed a bit of guidance, the poor boy. Would you like a biscuit, Dear?”

Mary shook her head. “No thank you.”

Emily took a biscuit from the packet and dunked it in her tea, and ate half of it before continuing. “He eventually went to prison. That’s when Danny decided it wasn’t the life for him. He wanted to make something of himself, have a decent life despite the difficult times he had growing up. I think he wanted to prove the world wrong, so to speak.”

Mary listened, fascinated, even though she had heard these things from Danny himself. Hearing it from Emily just seemed to validate it and make it real.

            Emily sipped her tea and continued. “His parole officer found him a job at the local greengrocer. Oh, it was just a start, just a dead end job really, for an unskilled worker. It didn’t pay much. But Danny was so proud that he had gotten his first job, his first chance to build an honest life, and he worked so hard toward that goal. Would you believe he bought me flowers with his first pay? He had such a kind heart, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” replied Mary.

Emily hesitated, feeling a little emotional, then continued.

“He met this girl, Mary was her name. I never met her but oh, she must have been lovely. And she was just what he needed at that point in his life. Whenever I saw him she was all he talked about.”

“Please, Emily, please tell me where he is. I need to find him.”

Emily looked at Mary, surprised.

“Why, he passed away, Dear. A long time ago. Didn’t you know? I thought you just wanted to ask me about his life.”

Mary’s face turned pale and tears welled in her eyes. “No. No. It can’t be true. Oh God,” she said, covering her mouth in total shock.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that you had to hear about it like that, Mary. I didn’t realise.” Emily put her hand on Mary’s to comfort her.

“What happened to him?” Mary asked, wiping her eyes.

Emily sat silently for a minute or so, collecting her thoughts, and then began.

 

         “Danny was a quiet boy. Very sensitive. Something happened between him and Mary. He was heartbroken for months, staying in his room night after night. He would sometimes take late night walks to the park or along the river… ‘just to think’… were his words to me. I think he was just so lonely in that apartment. Anyway he was walking over Southwark Bridge one night and some young men from a rival gang happened upon him and recognised him. One of them had a knife. Even though Danny had left that world of gangs and violence the young man stabbed Danny and they threw him into the river. The police never found his body. It was so sad. I’ll never forget it. It haunts me to this day.”

            Mary’s tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “I loved him Emily,” she sobbed. “I loved him so much.”

Emily put her arm around Mary and held her tight.

“But I don’t understand, Dear. How could you have even known him? You’re so young.”

“BECAUSE I’M MARY!!” she shouted, crying. “DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND? I’M MARY! I’M MARY! I LOVED HIM! AND HE LOVED ME!”

Emily still didn’t get it. She was taken aback at Mary’s emotional outburst.

        “Did you ever hear the sound of glass breaking in Danny’s apartment?” asked Mary.

“Why yes,” replied Emily. “A terrible noise. It woke me from my sleep. It was about the same time something happened between him and Mary.”

“It was his mirror wasn’t it?” said Mary.

“Well…yes, but how do you know about that?”

“Because I’m Mary,” she said, exasperated. “Emily, I don’t know how or why, it’s all so crazy. I can’t explain it, but Danny and I met through that mirror. Two lonely people living in different times, but we were somehow brought together, united through the mirror. But the mirror broke and we lost each other. Forever.”

“I don’t understand any of this,” replied Emily, holding Mary tightly, “but I know a broken heart when I see one. I believe you Mary. I believe something happened. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

They sat in shared sorrow, both reliving in their minds their own moments spent with Danny.

“Sssshhhhhh” whispered Emily, gently stroking Mary’s dry, straw-like hair as Mary sobbed into Emily’s comforting shoulder.

“I loved him Emily. I loved him.”

 

 

Chapter 11

 

           Mary woke in unfamiliar surroundings. It was dark. As her eyes adjusted to the low light she realised she was still in Emily’s apartment. She had dosed off and Emily had covered her with a blanket and left her on the sofa, and had gone to her own bed.

She sat up and stretched, feeling drawn and tired. Emily’s words echoed in Mary’s mind like a recording. ‘Stabbed and thrown off Southwark Bridge – body was never found.”

          Mary rose and folded the blanket neatly, and laid it on the sofa. She left the apartment, closing the door softly behind her and went down the hall to her own apartment. She looked at the mirror for a minute or so and then pulled her bedside table across and pushed it up against it. She went to the bathroom and put on her white headband, pulling back her hair from her forehead and cheeks. She got a chair from the kitchen, sat in front of the mirror and looked at the reflection. It was almost identical to the one she had been looking into for the past couple of months, except the person now looking back at her was herself. It was the image that Danny had seen, the girl that Danny had fallen in love with. The girl that no one else wanted. And it was the image that Danny had ultimately died for.

             It didn’t escape Mary