BEHIND THE GLASS

Don't want to say too much because it would ruin it, but this is sort of Maddison. Also sad. Sorry - was slightly depressed.

I find myself smiling uncontrollably as I watch you twirl in front of the mirror. You're perfect, you always have been, and that's definitely your colour. I feel my heart speed up a little as you tie half your hair back in a knot behind your head, and tuck the loose ends behind your ears. You remind me so much of someone I know.

Your eyes sparkle back from the reflection, and they're his eyes. Eyes I loved more than any others. Eyes that I came to be unable to live without. There's a certain irony about that. Blue, with glimmer of grey when the sun catches them. And you've outlined them to make them look dark and mysterious. There's always been only one word for those eyes - steamy.

Your hair is his, as well, long and dark. But it has the tiniest hint of auburn in it, which I take credit for. I used to watch you when you were younger, and long to be the one sat on your bed with you, brushing out your beautiful straight locks. You're beautiful, that's for sure.

I feel like we are closer than close, though you never knew me. I have watched every second of your life. I have seen what you didn't even let your father see. I have seen you steal chocolate from the cupboard, watched you sneak your book and a torch under your covers when you heard him coming up the stairs to say good night. I've heard you swear and curse amongst friends at school, and I've seen you lie blindly to him about the age certificate of the film you are going to see with Lyndsey.

I've seen you wait by the phone for hours for one of the boys at school to phone, and I've watched you cry yourself to sleep when you found out he was going out with someone else. I saw your first kiss, and watched you sob over your first boyfriend when he tired of you, or you grew apart. I saw everything that your father didn't, but he's still luckier than me. He can talk with you, he can hold you in his arms. I can only watch.

I watch you apply red lipstick with a shaking hand. I was wearing red lipstick on that last day. The only thing I can be glad for is that you didn't have to see it. I don't, to this day, know how it happened, exactly. I was driving to pick you up from your Auntie Callie's, on the way home from the hospital. The lorry was doing well over 70. From the moment of impact I knew nothing. After that the watching began.

I thought your father wouldn't be able to hold out. But then he took you in his arms and held you to him and I knew he would do as great a job as we would have done together.

He raised you single handedly. For a man who had always had more than one woman on the go before we got married, he never looked at another woman again. That still makes me feel guilty. I wanted him to be happy, even if it couldn't be with me. And you could have done with a mother. You could have used a mother at times.

You check yourself one final time in the mirror, and then you slide your feet into your new Gucci shoes. You inherited my taste in expensive shoes, I see. I approve indefinitely. Then you smile at your reflection and run down the stairs, slowing to a walk when you reach the door to living room. He looks up as you walk in, Mark, your father, and I can tell your appearance shocks him a little. You are fifteen, but you could easily be eighteen, that's how you look. You're going out with Mikey, Mikey Burke, who you practically grew up with. I like that. I grew up with your father. And Derek, but that's not the point. Mikey, I like. He will treat you right, my darling.

"How do I look, Dad?" you say, and your voice wavers only slightly. The awe in Mark's eyes is obvious as he looks at this young woman you have become. When he doesn't say anything, you pale a little. But I know that it's a good thing. You've rendered Mark Sloane speechless. "Carrie, you look...you look...just like Addy." he finishes, and you swell. That's the highest possible praise he could give you.
"Lets go." he says briskly, and you grin at him.
"Thanks, Dad." you say. "I love you"
"I love you too, Carrie. Come on, you musn't be late"
And the house darkens as you leave it. I don't think I'll follow you tonight. I think I'll wait with Mark. You're growing up, and away, but he needs me right here.

Finis

Hope you like!