The Mirror by J. Morris (read dune txt) 📕

“How do you know this dress is new?”

“When you went to the kitchen to get your food I saw the price tag on the back.”

             Mary put her hand behind her neck and felt the tag. She blushed. “Oh god, I’m so embarrassed.” She could see Danny laughing.

“Stop it” she wrote, smiling.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not” she replied, still smiling.

“You’re right. I’m not” he wrote, smiling back.

            They had been so involved in their conversation that they had forgotten about their dinner. Mary took a mouthful. “It’s cold,” she wrote.

Danny tried his and gave a ‘don’t care’ shrug of his shoulders.

            They ate the remainder in silence, gazing through the glass at each other, both of them feeling their affection growing for the other.

“You saw me that night, didn’t you?” wrote Danny when they had finished.

Mary looked puzzled. “What night? Saw what?”

“You know…that first night. I saw you only for a second, but I felt that you saw me. A lot more of me than I saw of you.” he replied. Mary blushed.

“I’m so sorry,” wrote Danny. “I’m sorry that you had to see that. And I feel really embarrassed myself.”

“Don’t be,” she replied, then added “I wasn’t embarrassed.”

They sat, looking at each other, wondering what to say next.

Mary wrote and hesitated, then held it up, averting Danny’s eyes. “It was actually kinda hot.”

Danny looked at her words for a few seconds, and then looked at her.

Mary quickly wrote. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve never said anything like that before.”

Danny shook his head and replied “no it’s fine. And you know what? It’s kinda nice to know you feel that way.”

            They were both playing a game. They were testing the waters. They both wanted to push the boundaries with the other, without pushing too far and crossing the line. Mary was tingling with excitement that she had gone so far with a guy. Up until this night she had hardly been able to say two words to the opposite sex. With Danny she felt natural and confident to just be herself.

            They studied each other’s face, each with a look of anticipation, both hoping the other will say something, just an indication that this line of conversation will keep progressing. Mary knew she was going somewhere she had never been, but had for a long time fantasised about. She felt so comfortable and confident in his presence, and she was enjoying herself more than ever before.

“I’ve never been with a guy,” she continued.

“Well,” he replied, “you’re with one now.”

Chapter 6

           “Deep in thought?” asked Franco, stirring Danny from his almost-trance-like state. Danny stopped stacking the oranges on the shelf and turned to Franco.

“Sorry boss. Yeh, I was just thinking about something. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Run it by me,” said Franco. “If you want to that is. Maybe I can help.”

“Well” began Danny, “I’ve met this girl.”

“Yeh I figured it would be something to do with a girl.”

“The thing is, I really like her, and I know she likes me.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“She doesn’t know about my past” replied Danny. “She wants me to tell her all about myself, and I told her I would, but I’m scared she will run for the hills. I’m not exactly a good catch, am I?”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Danny. And don’t underestimate the girl. I haven’t known you long but I know you’re a good kid. Hard working, Honest. At least I hope you’re honest.”

“I won’t let you down boss.”

“I think you’re ok, son. I wouldn’t have given you a chance otherwise. And call me Franco. Ok?”

“Ok. Franco.”

“Danny, your past is your past. The only thing you can change now is your future. Forget the past.”

“But what do I tell Mary. That’s her name. Mary.”

“Tell her the truth. If she likes you enough, it won’t bother her. Don’t try and hide who you’ve been. Just show her who you are now. If she decides to walk away, at least she will respect you for your honesty. And it’s better than trying to live a lie.”

“Yeh, you’re right Franco. I’ll tell her tonight.”

“Good luck Danny.”

“Thanks. I’ll probably need it.”

              Danny spent the rest of the day thinking of the night ahead, dreading the thought of telling Mary about his past.

After work he went home and moved the table to the mirror as he did the previous night. He was expecting Mary in around 30 minutes. He ate 2 slices of toast and honey to settle his stomach. He was too nervous to attempt a proper meal. He paced the room going through his life story in his mind. Should he try and water down the seriousness of his past history; of his crimes? Should he leave the worst bits out? No, he needed to tell her everything, and let her decide what she wants to do. He needed to be honest with her.

              He was sitting at the table when Mary pulled the bedsheet from the mirror. She was dressed in a tight lime green t shirt that accentuated her curves, and denim shorts - tight on her white chubby legs - and she again wore the headband, keeping her hair from hiding her face. She dragged her bedside table and chair to the mirror and sat down.

She quickly got her writing pad. “What’s wrong?” she wrote.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, yes it is” she wrote. She looked concerned.

Danny looked glum as he sat for a minute or so collecting his thoughts. He wrote a note.

“I need to tell you something Mary.”

“This sounds serious. What’s up?”

“I’ve been to prison, Mary. If you want to walk away now, I’ll understand.”

“Oh,” she wrote, a little taken aback. It wasn’t something she expected. “Well, we all make mistakes, Danny.”

“It wasn’t a mistake, Mary. I’ve done things. I’ve hurt people. Not physically, but I stole from them.”

“You mean like housebreaking?”

“Yes. Housebreaking. Breaking into businesses. Stealing cars.”

              Mary thought about this for a few moments. Danny had obviously lived his life on the other side of the tracks, but she was willing to hear his story. She saw something in him, and wanted to know everything before deciding one way or another. She wasn’t going to judge him until she heard the whole story.

              “Well,” she began, “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it sounds. A lot of teenagers get into trouble with the police. It doesn’t mean they’re bad or that they’ll stay like that for life.”

“It’s not all.” He hesitated, unsure whether he should go on, and then continued writing.

“I robbed people at knifepoint. I would never have used the knife, but I threatened them. I saw the fear in their faces, Mary, and I took their wallets and handbags.”

              Mary could only stare wide eyed at Danny. Her jaw dropped and she was speechless. She didn’t know what to say to him.

“I knew it,” he wrote. “I’m sorry Mary. This has all been a waste of your time.”

Mary thought for a few moments. “I asked you to tell me about yourself, Danny. Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

              Danny nodded. He looked down for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts. He closed his eyes as if silently praying. He began writing.

“I don’t remember my parents. They were drug addicts. And I think they were drug dealers too. When I was three years old the child protection people took me… rescued me, from what I understand, and placed me with foster parents. I don’t actually remember any of it. I was too young.”

Danny turned the paper around and put it on the table near the mirror so that Mary could begin reading his life story while he continued writing.

            “My earliest memory is an incident when I was about four years old. I remember my foster father taking off his belt. He made me bend over and hold the bedhead, and he whipped me on the butt and the back of my legs. I don’t know what I had done wrong. I couldn’t walk for a day. I couldn’t sleep either, not just from the pain but the fear as well. After that, just the sound of his voice sent shivers down my spine. He would sometimes slap me around.”

He turned it around for Mary to continue reading. Mary glanced up at him now and then, concerned.

He continued. “The whippings and beatings continued, usually for something trivial like not eating my vegetables, or getting my clothes muddy. Things like that. My foster mother voiced her concerns to him, but he had control over her and threatened to beat her also if she wasn’t quiet.”

“Oh I’m so sorry, Danny” wrote Mary. “That’s awful.”

“I was just a kid. I thought it was just life. I thought all fathers did it to their sons when they misbehaved. Later when I started school, I saw fathers picking up their kids and hugging them, and I saw how happy they were, I realised that something wasn’t right. I ran away a couple of times and each time I was taken back by child protection. They asked me why I ran away and I couldn’t tell them. My foster father gave me another beating for my trouble.”

                Mary read each page, noticing that a tear had fallen on one of them. That upset her and she shed a tear of her own.

              “The third time I ran away one of the child protection people noticed strap marks at the top of my legs. They removed me and found another foster home, but the damage was already done. I couldn’t trust any adults, especially men. At the slightest hint of trouble, maybe just angry words between the foster parents, I was out of there. I didn’t hang around in case of a beating.”

Mary read page after page of his harrowing story.

“When I was thirteen I lived with a foster family who had taken in kids all their lives. They were good to me and gave me guidance.  They showed me how to trust again. I was invited to parties and made a couple of friends at school. They were good kids and I wish I had kept them. ”

“I had a wild streak in me and rebelled against authority. I was always getting suspended at school for my disruptive behaviour. I had a chip on my shoulder.”

“I don’t blame you” wrote Mary.

“I left school as soon as I was old enough. No qualifications. No nothing. I didn’t care. I wasn’t interested in working anyway. I fell in with a bad bunch of kids and we formed a gang, ‘Southsiders’. At last I felt like I was part of something. I felt I was an equal. The gang grew to about 20 members, most of them just like me, from broken homes and violent fathers. Sometimes violent mothers. Other kids were afraid of us. So were adults. We broke into houses. We stole cars just for the fun of it. Girls looked at us like we were rock stars. They acted like groupies. Do you know what I’m talking about, Mary?”

Mary read the words and nodded, embarrassed.

“I’m not proud of any of that. I feel bad about taking advantage of those girls. I wish I could go back and change things, but I can’t. I have to live with the guilt. The gang progressed from housebreaking to breaking into shops, stealing things and pawning them for money. Then we went on to robbing people, threatening them with violence.”

Oh my goodness, thought Mary, as she read that.

“Then one night I robbed an old guy. He was probably in his seventies. He had a heart attack right there in front of me. I felt so bad. That was a ‘wake-up call’. I handed myself in to the cops. I couldn’t do it anymore, Mary. The old guy survived and is ok now, but I think about it every day. Sometimes it comes