By the time she reached home, Rhi was feeling normal again, though a small
part of her—a surprisingly small part—cringed at what Matt's reaction was
to her inexplicable apology. Maneuvering around Mom's car in the driveway,
Rhi remembered the Mirror—and only the idea of her bike being stolen made
her put it away in the garage before sprinting into the house.
Ms. Abernathy slumped on the couch in the living room, business suit rumpled and sweaty. "Oh sure, now you get home," she grumbled, wiping her face on her sleeve. "Do you know how long this damn thing took to get in the house? How long I had to take to even get it in the car? Not only that—those Pottery Barn clones came armed to the teeth today! The bidding was close enough that—"
The brown-paper-wrapped monolith in the center of the living room had to be at least six and a half feet tall, owing at least a few inches, no doubt, to the layers of bubble wrap and masking tape that swathed it like bunting. Rhi circled it like a jackal, drinking in even its concealed form with ardor and anticipation she'd never thought possible. Reaching out a hand to tug at an unstuck corner of tape, she pulled back as though stung.
Ms. Abernathy laughed. "Well, go on, Rhi, it's yours. It won't bite, I promise—I lugged the damn thing all the way from the auctioneer's, so I know!"
Rhi tugged tentatively at the loosened tape, then as the wrapping began to fall, she tore at the padding with increasing gusto. How much bubble wrap can you really put on one object? Her brain cried in frustration, but with one last yank, the binding fell to the floor.
It wasn't as though the sun had broken through storm clouds, or that someone had thrown the shutters open in a dark room—but as soon as the paper and bubble wrap crumpled away from the mirror, Rhi could feel something seize her heart in a fierce grip. It was—it was like a sigh of—of immense power, she thought, her brain stuttering over the simple cognitive function; like standing at the mouth of a cave and feeling a dragon exhale. A really big dragon. The frame as wood, solid wood, very darkly polished, with sheen like ebony and no scratches visible. Only in the swirling carved traceries meandering around its edge could Rhi detect any sign of what must have been great age: flaking tendrils silver leaf that left shadows in places where it had come away. The glass itself was polished brightly as well, and as Rhi looked at her reflection, she got the strangest sensation—as though she were staring at herself through a thin wall of still water. Then she actually looked at her reflection, and her heart nearly stopped.
Could you pick yourself out of a crowd? Of course, everyone can identify the face they see over the sink, brushing their teeth every morning, but how many small details—the true shape of an eye or lip, the actual color of the blushing skin above the cheekbones, the contrasting paleness under an eyebrow—could you truly, confidently claim as yours? Could you pick yourself out of a lineup? Could you, really?
For a breathless moment Rhi swore she looked at someone else, that some other six-foot-tall, skinny swimmer stared out from this mirror. The other girl had her father's thick black hair, the same light olive skin, her mother's wide green eyes and expressive, narrow lips—but there the similarities ended. There was a—something about this other girl—
"What do you think?" Ms. Abernathy asked, stepping into the reflection and placing a hand on Rhi's shoulder. Realizing she had not done so in a while, Rhi sucked in a breath, and the world—and her image—returned to normal. "It's amazing," she breathed. "How—what is it with the glass?"
"Extraordinary, isn't it?" Ms. Abernathy stepped behind the frame, and as she followed, Rhi was surprised to see another reflection on the other side, just as flawless. "The frame is so thick because the mirror is actually a layer of quicksilver pressed between two pieces of glass—at least, that's what the selling appraiser told me. The quicksilver is drawn up in a partial vacuum and then sealed between the glasses, to keep the coverage absolutely even the whole way up. I've heard of it being done, but never of a piece that survived this long, or in this condition. That's why this is still here," Ms.Abernathy tapped a fingernail on the protective metal frame that still surrounded the mirror. Rhi hadn't even noticed it was there. "There's no wood on the back to protect it from damage. I was really lucky—even though we can't use mercury any more, I'm sure some other catalogue would have loved to secure this for a prototype. Look, you can kind of see through it...."
The faint outlines of the TV and couch were visible through the looking glass. "But Mom, isn't mercury kind of dangerous?"
Ms. Abernathy touched the glass lightly, even reverently. "Yes, but this is completely sealed inside the glass—if there were any kind of leak, the vacuum would be broken and it would all settle to the bottom, see? The way this glass was made, nothing can escape, not even vapors. If this ever breaks—"she cast a warning sidelong glance at her daughter, "we'd probably have to move out for a while and have the house decontaminated. There's enough quicksilver in there to do a lot of damage." Rhi nodded. She knew with a deep certainty that there wasn't a lot she'd let harm this Mirror—or that the Mirror would allow to harm It.
"By the way, Rhi," Ms. Abernathy said, wiping her brow after the two of them had carefully moved the Mirror down the hall and into Rhi's bedroom, "what are your plans for the night?"
Rhi looked up from unscrewing the last nut that held the front of the Mirror's protective frame together. "Same as every other night—not much. Why?"
"Well..." Ms. Abernathy carefully removed the tubing and set it against the doorjamb. "Um, one of the men from work—a few people, actually, including Carol...you remember Carol, right?" Rhi nodded; she'd met the bright-toothed saleswoman with the improbably coppery hair once or twice. Ms. Abernathy sighed and ran a hand through her sweaty hair. Could Mom actually be nervous? Rhi wondered suddenly. About what?
"Well, Carol and—and a few others are going out for a little while tonight, and they—she invited me along. You know, dinner and congratulating ourselves on the purchases we made at the sale."
Rhi suddenly remembered a man's voice on their answering machine: "Hi, Marienne, this is Andrew Stewart from work..."
"Is, um...what's his name? Andrew? Is he going to be there?" Rhi asked casually.
"It's not a date, Rhiannon, it's a group of us going out for dinner!" Ms. Abernathy retorted in a rush. "Yes, Andrew will be there, but we're just friendly colleagues and anyway, don't you think I'd think twice about dating someone I work so closely with?"
"Way to answer all the questions I wasn't going to ask, Mom." Rhi stood up, towering over her mother for a moment. Then she smiled. "Relax, Mom. Go with your friends. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" Mom was already halfway down the hall towards her own room. "I know we haven't eaten yet—I'll give you pizza money if you'd like, Carol said she'd call me around six-thirty and let me know where we're going..." A moment later the shower in the bathroom sprang to sputtering life and her words were lost.
"Sure, Mom!"
Ms. Abernathy slumped on the couch in the living room, business suit rumpled and sweaty. "Oh sure, now you get home," she grumbled, wiping her face on her sleeve. "Do you know how long this damn thing took to get in the house? How long I had to take to even get it in the car? Not only that—those Pottery Barn clones came armed to the teeth today! The bidding was close enough that—"
The brown-paper-wrapped monolith in the center of the living room had to be at least six and a half feet tall, owing at least a few inches, no doubt, to the layers of bubble wrap and masking tape that swathed it like bunting. Rhi circled it like a jackal, drinking in even its concealed form with ardor and anticipation she'd never thought possible. Reaching out a hand to tug at an unstuck corner of tape, she pulled back as though stung.
Ms. Abernathy laughed. "Well, go on, Rhi, it's yours. It won't bite, I promise—I lugged the damn thing all the way from the auctioneer's, so I know!"
Rhi tugged tentatively at the loosened tape, then as the wrapping began to fall, she tore at the padding with increasing gusto. How much bubble wrap can you really put on one object? Her brain cried in frustration, but with one last yank, the binding fell to the floor.
It wasn't as though the sun had broken through storm clouds, or that someone had thrown the shutters open in a dark room—but as soon as the paper and bubble wrap crumpled away from the mirror, Rhi could feel something seize her heart in a fierce grip. It was—it was like a sigh of—of immense power, she thought, her brain stuttering over the simple cognitive function; like standing at the mouth of a cave and feeling a dragon exhale. A really big dragon. The frame as wood, solid wood, very darkly polished, with sheen like ebony and no scratches visible. Only in the swirling carved traceries meandering around its edge could Rhi detect any sign of what must have been great age: flaking tendrils silver leaf that left shadows in places where it had come away. The glass itself was polished brightly as well, and as Rhi looked at her reflection, she got the strangest sensation—as though she were staring at herself through a thin wall of still water. Then she actually looked at her reflection, and her heart nearly stopped.
Could you pick yourself out of a crowd? Of course, everyone can identify the face they see over the sink, brushing their teeth every morning, but how many small details—the true shape of an eye or lip, the actual color of the blushing skin above the cheekbones, the contrasting paleness under an eyebrow—could you truly, confidently claim as yours? Could you pick yourself out of a lineup? Could you, really?
For a breathless moment Rhi swore she looked at someone else, that some other six-foot-tall, skinny swimmer stared out from this mirror. The other girl had her father's thick black hair, the same light olive skin, her mother's wide green eyes and expressive, narrow lips—but there the similarities ended. There was a—something about this other girl—
"What do you think?" Ms. Abernathy asked, stepping into the reflection and placing a hand on Rhi's shoulder. Realizing she had not done so in a while, Rhi sucked in a breath, and the world—and her image—returned to normal. "It's amazing," she breathed. "How—what is it with the glass?"
"Extraordinary, isn't it?" Ms. Abernathy stepped behind the frame, and as she followed, Rhi was surprised to see another reflection on the other side, just as flawless. "The frame is so thick because the mirror is actually a layer of quicksilver pressed between two pieces of glass—at least, that's what the selling appraiser told me. The quicksilver is drawn up in a partial vacuum and then sealed between the glasses, to keep the coverage absolutely even the whole way up. I've heard of it being done, but never of a piece that survived this long, or in this condition. That's why this is still here," Ms.Abernathy tapped a fingernail on the protective metal frame that still surrounded the mirror. Rhi hadn't even noticed it was there. "There's no wood on the back to protect it from damage. I was really lucky—even though we can't use mercury any more, I'm sure some other catalogue would have loved to secure this for a prototype. Look, you can kind of see through it...."
The faint outlines of the TV and couch were visible through the looking glass. "But Mom, isn't mercury kind of dangerous?"
Ms. Abernathy touched the glass lightly, even reverently. "Yes, but this is completely sealed inside the glass—if there were any kind of leak, the vacuum would be broken and it would all settle to the bottom, see? The way this glass was made, nothing can escape, not even vapors. If this ever breaks—"she cast a warning sidelong glance at her daughter, "we'd probably have to move out for a while and have the house decontaminated. There's enough quicksilver in there to do a lot of damage." Rhi nodded. She knew with a deep certainty that there wasn't a lot she'd let harm this Mirror—or that the Mirror would allow to harm It.
"By the way, Rhi," Ms. Abernathy said, wiping her brow after the two of them had carefully moved the Mirror down the hall and into Rhi's bedroom, "what are your plans for the night?"
Rhi looked up from unscrewing the last nut that held the front of the Mirror's protective frame together. "Same as every other night—not much. Why?"
"Well..." Ms. Abernathy carefully removed the tubing and set it against the doorjamb. "Um, one of the men from work—a few people, actually, including Carol...you remember Carol, right?" Rhi nodded; she'd met the bright-toothed saleswoman with the improbably coppery hair once or twice. Ms. Abernathy sighed and ran a hand through her sweaty hair. Could Mom actually be nervous? Rhi wondered suddenly. About what?
"Well, Carol and—and a few others are going out for a little while tonight, and they—she invited me along. You know, dinner and congratulating ourselves on the purchases we made at the sale."
Rhi suddenly remembered a man's voice on their answering machine: "Hi, Marienne, this is Andrew Stewart from work..."
"Is, um...what's his name? Andrew? Is he going to be there?" Rhi asked casually.
"It's not a date, Rhiannon, it's a group of us going out for dinner!" Ms. Abernathy retorted in a rush. "Yes, Andrew will be there, but we're just friendly colleagues and anyway, don't you think I'd think twice about dating someone I work so closely with?"
"Way to answer all the questions I wasn't going to ask, Mom." Rhi stood up, towering over her mother for a moment. Then she smiled. "Relax, Mom. Go with your friends. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" Mom was already halfway down the hall towards her own room. "I know we haven't eaten yet—I'll give you pizza money if you'd like, Carol said she'd call me around six-thirty and let me know where we're going..." A moment later the shower in the bathroom sprang to sputtering life and her words were lost.
"Sure, Mom!"