Every year, a week before Christmas, the whole family would gather at grandmother’s house. My brother, mother, and I would usually come first, mostly because we were the only ones who hadn’t left the town after grandma died. We would step into that cold, dusty, and dark house and it was our responsibility to prepare and clean the two-storey house for the rest of the Janssons. My mother would get to clean the ground floor, I would get the upper floor, and Gustav, being the bigger, older brother that he is, would take the attic and the basement. Ever since our father died, Gustav started acting more serious and mature. And I guess mother and I didn’t mind having someone bossy around. We were used to it.
The house was still called grandma’s house, although she had passed away ten years ago. Mikaela, or as we all called her, Minnie, was, by all means, an old-fashion woman. Quick and harsh with her words, scolding and stern, Minnie was the backbone of the entire family. Since she died, everyone had scattered away, seemingly eager to do so. They unrolled, each to their own, like dropped yarn. We would still get occasional calls, but that was it. ‘Congratulations!’ on birthdays, ‘Well Done!’ and ‘You’re really grown up now!’ when my brother and I finished a year in high school or university, and my favourite, ‘Say hello to your mom from me!’ at the end of every phone call.
The only time when they showed up was when my father died. And so ‘Well done!’ and ‘I’m so happy for you!’ turned into ‘My condolences’ and ‘I’m so sorry’. The next day, they were all gone.
I didn’t hate any of my uncles and aunts. In a way, an envious way, I understood them, wanting to be able to cut all ties and disappear before anyone could hurt me again. But I felt way too tied to my mother to be able to do that to her.
#
I was somewhere around twenty-five or twenty-six when Gustav had dug up the mirror. He had found it in the attic, covered in dust and cobwebs. The mirror’s surface was a bit scratched and dirty, but the frame was intact. It was made of bronze. For some reason, everyone hated this mirror. The adults especially. Whenever one of them was walking down the hall on the upper floor, they would look away or nervously hide their eyes from it. I never understood why. It was chic and old, ugly even, but it was still functional. The only adult I remember liking the thing was Minnie.
“Wanna hung it up?”, Gustav asked, turning the mirror in his hands. He was covered in dust.
“Sure”, I said, happy to be taken away from my cleaning duties.
We walked down the hallway on the second floor. There were scratch marks on the wall where the mirror used to be. When Gustav set it up, the scratch marks were perfectly hidden.
“Like a glove!”, Gustav said, taking a step back and looking at himself in the mirror. He checked his hairstyle and then turned back towards the attic. “Stop slacking off. You’ve got five more rooms to vacuum.”
I answered something to him, but my eyes were chained to the mirror. I looked awful. My hair was long, desperately needing a cut and I needed to shave. The worst were the bags under my eyes. At that moment, I couldn’t remember when I had a good night’s sleep. Before, when I was younger, a lot of people told me I took after my dad. Over time, I noticed it myself. We had the same nose and eyes, and when we smiled, our lips would curve the same way. A little part of me broke when I realised I couldn’t see my dad anymore. Either I’d changed drastically, or I had already started to forget him.
Feeling shame, I glanced away from the mirror and continued about my day.
#
Overall, I liked grandma’s house. If there was one thing I had to rule out as being bad, I’d say it was the silence. I could never sleep in perfect silence. My thoughts would become unbearably loud.
The night when we found the mirror was like that; too silent. It kept me awake well into the night. Somewhere after three, I got out of bed, hoping a glass of water would ease my mind. Using my phone as a flashlight and tiptoeing through the hallway, I stopped in front of the mirror. The same feeling of dread returned to me.
When Minnie was diagnosed with dementia, my family moved and lived with her. In the beginning, everything was as same as ever. Sometimes she’d forget her slippers, or would start eating her soup with a fork. As the disease worsened, Minnie started mumbling constantly, forgetting to dress completely and kept asking my mother when she was planning on graduating. Around that phase of dementia, I used to stumble on her looking at herself in the mirror.
“Look, Johan. It’s me!”, She’d say when I came close to her. “Let’s go to that place you’ve talked about.”
I would say something meaningless in return and return her to her room. Weakly, she would turn and say: “Johan, wait”, or something similar. When we got into her room, she would act as if she was seeing me, her grandson, for the first time in her life. I never gave much thought to her words. After all, my name wasn’t Johan. Johan was her seventh child who died when he was twelve. They found him days later at the bottom of a well that was in the back garden. Now it was boarded up and hidden.
As I looked at myself in the mirror that night, thoughts about Minnie and Johan returned to me. Still, I couldn’t shake off that feeling of dread. And shame.
“Why am I feeling like this?”, I asked for some reason.
“You’re hurt”, I said.
I took a step back, startled. Did I say that?
Of course, I said that. Who else?
“You’re hurt and lonely”, I said again. No, the me in the mirror said again. My hands shook, casting shadows on the me in the mirror.
“What on earth…?”
“There’s a hole here”, I touched my chest. “Someone left you, creating that hole. Ever since, it was there, threatening to suck in every other organ.”
“Stop this!”, I said, a tad louder than a whisper.
“You’re the one doing this”, the other me spoke again.
“Is this some kind of a fucked up self-therapy?”, I whispered.
The me in the mirror was silent. I sighed and started rubbing my eyes. I needed sleep. I’ve started seeing and hearing things.
“I just want to help you, Adrian.” A child’s voice.
I looked in the mirror. There was a child next to me. Screaming, I jumped.
I was alone in the hallway.
“What the hell?”, Gustav peeked his head out of his room, squinting.
“I… I…”
“Yo, why the fuck are you up so early?”
I took a deep breath, steadying my stuttering. “I wanted a glass of water. I… I tripped.”
“Jesus, Adrian…”, Gustav went back, slamming the door.
Panting, I slowly stood up, picking up my phone. I pointed the light at the mirror. There was only me, scared and confused. I ran down the stairs, afraid that the other me would start talking again. The sink screeched as I filled up a glass. I was sweating all over and my hand was shaking as I lifted the glass. I really need to sleep, I thought, setting the glass down. Slowly, I went back up the stair. I noticed the bronze frame right away. Deciding not to cast any light onto the mirror, I walked slowly, looking at my feet. I was right by the mirror when the feeling of being watched overwhelmed me. I stopped in my tracks, too scared to lift the phone. Slowly, I glanced at the shadowy mirror. There were three figures in the mirror now. Next to the other me and the boy, a tall man stood. I couldn’t notice anything but that he was tall and had curly hair. He also wore glasses. Round.
Dad?
I jerked the phone, casting light at the mirror. There was only me. “Matheo has been dead for two years”, I whispered. NO. I won’t talk to the mirror again, I decided. I turned away from the mirror and started walking away, towards my room. I promised myself that I would throw it out the next morning.
“I know where he is.”
I jumped, turning around. In front of the mirror, the boy stood. I opened my mouth to scream, but I could only stand paralyzed and silent. The phone fell from my hand, leaving me alone in the dark with the boy.
“I know where Matheo is. Let me show you.”
#
“Gustav, will you please wake up your brother?”, mother asked, shuffling a bunch of letters in her hand.
Gustav yawned as he lazily went down the stairs. He rubbed his eyes. “Adrian!”, he yelled.
“Oh, for crying out loud, I meant going to his room!”, Mother yelled at her older son. “I could use his help. The others will come soon. I want to be over with this!”, She tossed the papers on the table. Mother sighed. “You hungry, sweetie?”
Gustav nodded.
“Pancakes?”
Gustav nodded again, with a smile emerging on his face.
“Go and wake your brother then. He didn’t even finish cleaning the rooms.”
Grunting, Gustav turned around and went back up. When he walked through the hallway, Gustav didn’t notice that the mirror was slightly tilted. “Come on, Adrian, wake up!”
He pushed the door open, finding an empty bed.
#
They found me after five days. My body was at the bottom of the well, broken and twisted. They still haven’t decided whether I died of hypothermia, shock, or bleeding. They also found a board next to me, one of the many which were used to board up the well. I scratched a name on it with my nails. Johan.
Fortunately, Johan has made me forget all that. When you get to know him, he’s a really cool guy. It’s surprising how a twelve-year-old boy can know so much. The only time I’ve ever seen Minnie smiling and laughing was when Johan was in the room.
Anyway, Johan said that he’ll bring my dad to the house. But only if I finish my part of the deal. I’ve got five more rooms to clean. We’re expecting all of the Janssons to come soon.
