Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📕

Grandad nodded his agreement.

‘I caught him following some man down the street,’ the constable added.

‘I see. I’ll have another word with him.’

‘Aye, I know you will, pal. So, how’s the family keeping?’ PC Williams asked.

‘You know how it is. Money’s tight, and I miss the family and everything we had going for us. Ten years later, and I still expect Alex and Barb to come walking through the door any minute. And our John-Michael is the spit of him,’ he said, wiping at his mouth.

I knew times were tough. Grandad Stephen Chester couldn’t run the garage in his advancing years. His son and my father, Alex Chester, died twelve years ago when I was nine. He was only thirty-six, and I still missed him. Grandad had wanted me to take over the garage when I was old enough, but I wasn’t interested in car mechanics. The only mechanics I was interested in were that of watches. Grandad said it was his fault I had no interest in cars, because he had spent hours teaching me how to repair watches. Though he was proud I’d become the best horologist he knew, besides him.

‘I can see that, pal. No mistaking who his dad was except for them baby blues. Pulls at your heartstrings, doesn’t it?’

Grandad sighed loudly and nodded.

‘And Anna? How’s she doing? Any better?’

‘Hardly, she’s going to flip when she hears about this. She’s awful to him. Anyone can see he’s not quite right. And I can’t forgive her for all things she’s said to him over the years. She’s partially to blame for the way he turned out, in my opinion. I wish the doctors had got to the bottom of it all those years ago.’

PC Williams patted him on the shoulder, and I slumped back against the wall. I knew exactly what he was referring to. I remember Mum telling me my eyes were the cause of all my problems. She said they unnerved people, and they wouldn’t look at me, and in time, I stopped looking at them too. I could gaze at the rest of their bodies and quickly glance at their faces if they weren’t looking in my direction, but that was about it. I wish I knew what was wrong with me. Maybe I could learn how to fix it, and I’d be accepted by everyone, but especially by Mum.

‘Do you want to come in for a quick cuppa?’ Grandad asked him. ‘Or something stronger?’

‘Sure. Go on, then, a wee drop won’t hurt.’

‘Aye, good man.’

I ran through the side door to the kitchen, quickly filled the kettle, and placed it on the stove. Grandad and PC Williams entered a couple of moments later. I spied them from the many mirrors and reflective surfaces I’d positioned around the house. The constable’s eyes grew wide. No matter how many times he’d been in our house, his reaction was still the same.

On my last count, we had a hundred and sixty-seven mirrors in our house—twelve of those were in the kitchen. Our house was quite big, and despite its size, it was spotless. Every pot, pan, mirror, and surface in the kitchen had been scrubbed by me until it sparkled, as had everything reflective in all the other rooms.

I gazed at the picture of my dad pinned above the stove as I waited for the kettle to whistle. Mum liked it there to look at while she cooked. Grandad was right; I looked exactly like him. I was tall and slim like he had been, though I didn’t know what spitting had to do with the way I looked (I didn’t spit; it was a disgusting habit). But it was true, I did resemble him even more so now I was older—apart from my eyes. No one had eyes like mine. Dad had hazel eyes and chestnut hair like Grandad, though Grandad’s hair had been feathered with grey—almost white—for some time now. Mum had bottle-green eyes, as did my sister Tina, and they both had blonde hair that curled at the ends. Tina and I had both inherited olive skin from Grandad’s Italian heritage, too, which only made my eyes stand out even more.

PC Williams seated himself at the small wooden table while grandad poured two thumb-sized measures of whiskey into small tumblers. The constable swiftly scanned the room as he waited, catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror, then turned away.

What had he seen that he didn’t like? Perhaps it was the advancing years creeping up on him. Mum said the mirrors reminded her she was losing her youth. I wondered if that was her reason behind breaking one now and again.

‘Here you go, pal.’ Grandad placed a glass down in front of the officer.

‘Cheers.’

They raised their glasses and took big gulps, then savoured the burn as the golden liquid glided down their throats and into their stomachs. Grandad had let me try a glass when I turned eighteen. I didn’t enjoy it, therefore I rarely drank, nor did I frequent the many pubs like most lads my age. I had no one my age to go with, anyway, even if I wanted to.

I had a couple of mates. Well… mates was stretching it a bit; they were acquaintances, really. We had bonded somehow over the unique social awkwardness we shared. Carl had teenage acne that refused to disappear. I’d expressed he should wash his face every morning and evening with soap, but I didn’t know if he followed my advice. Then there was Paul. He had a terrible stammer and so hardly spoke.

I brought over my cup of steaming hot tea and sat with them to await the lecture I was about to receive. I shuffled into position so I could see the reflections of the men sat in front of me.

Grandad took another sip of his whiskey, then sucked his cheeks in before he spoke, no doubt