The Man In The Mirror

by Georgia Le Carre

  “Spare me. You didn’t give a damn about your father.”

  “Take that back, Brett King. I loved my father until you ripped me away from him.”

  “He wanted you to marry me, or have you forgotten?”

  “He would turn in his grave if he knew what you got up to in London.”

  “I do it because I am unhappy,” she cried.

  “Look, I really don’t care anymore. I don’t want to be married to you anymore.”

  “Please, Brett.”

  “Why do you want to be married to someone who doesn’t want you?”

  “Are you really that dense? With your last fucking name I am somebody. Do you think all those fine Lords and Ladies would give a shit about me if I was a divorcee? You expect me to give all that up for no reason?”

  "Do you truly feel no shame when you mention any of this?" I should be used to her selfishness by now, but it appeared she still had the ability to surprise me.

  "What shame?” she spat. "These are facts. I grew up with you and my father promising me the world and now you want to pull it out from under my feet. Not on your life."

  I smiled cynically. “So, I'm more or less your trophy?”

  "I don't give a damn what you call it, but no other woman will ever take my place. It is mine. You have refused to fix us, so you have to live with whatever is left."

  I straightened. As far as I was concerned the performance had come to an end. I picked up my office phone. "Barnaby, can you get the helicopter ready for me, please?”

  "Yes, Mr. King," came the response.

  "Brett, we’re not done.”

  "I am," I snarled. "Get out of my office, and make sure to sign those papers before I tear everything apart.”

  Tears of self-pity filled her eyes. “I'll take Zackary away from you. I swear it."

  My response was simple. "Try."

  Chapter 38

  Charlotte

  The knock on my door made me jump. When it creaked open to reveal Zackary's scared small face I shot out my hand to call him to me. He ran to me, a fire truck in his hand, and I pulled him up to sit on my lap.

  "Are you alright?" I asked.

  He shook his head, tears in his eyes. I embraced him, perfectly understanding why. The whole place was in a commotion because Jillian was throwing a drunken tantrum. She had returned suddenly a little while before dinner and tore through the house smashing things and cursing like a sailor.

  Since then it had been nothing but screams of fury, and the smashing of things either to the ground or against walls, alarming movements, and thuds that no one could decipher.

  Mr. Boothsworth had gone up to attend to her, but he remained outside her door, as she would not let anyone in.

  From her cursing and swearing I could almost suspect what was happening. but I couldn't believe it, or rather I was too scared to. I had not forgotten Brett asking me if it was his divorce that would pave the way for us.

  Zackary cupped his hand over my ear. "Is Mummy mad with me?" he whispered.

  "Of course not. You haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”

  He shook his head solemnly.

  “There you go. She's just a little upset right now, but everything will be fine when Daddy comes home. Do you want to come outside with me to play for a little bit?"

  He nodded, needing to be away from the racket just as much as I did. We headed hand in hand over to his new playground and whiled away an hour on the swings. He was building a mighty sandcastle in his play box when we heard the helicopter arrive in the distance. I decided to keep Zackary outside, so he didn’t accidentally hear anything he shouldn’t.

  When the sound of police sirens came up the driveway not too long after, I made sure to keep Zackary with me until all had subsided.

  “Have the police come to take Mummy away?” Zackary asked, his eyes enormous with fear.

  “No, of course not. I think they’ve just come to help Mummy feel less upset.”

  He nodded gravely and carried on building his sandcastle. After the police had left I walked into the kitchen after sending Zackary up to wash his hands.

  Mrs. Blackmore talked to me in hushed tones. "We don't know who called the police, but they took Mrs. King away for destruction of property. Apparently, she started her damaging rampage at the restaurant where she was lunching and carried on at the local bar."

  “Wow,” I said quietly.

  She looked stumped as she stared into nothingness. "I don't understand what could make her get so mad like that. She’s always been bad tempered, but never like this."

  "You should have heard the way Mr. King spoke to her. He was furious," Carrie said. "So much so he even dealt with the cops himself. He promised them he would make good any damage she had caused. They wanted to breathalyze her, but he wouldn’t allow them to. He had Mr. Boothsworth smuggle her quickly into the helicopter and off she went. I think they knew they had been outwitted, but they were a bit in awe of Mr. King.”

  I listened quietly, not knowing how I felt about it all. Things were spinning out of control and so quickly, I didn't know when something was going to fly out of nowhere and take me down. When I said no to Brett I was sure that my principles were more important than my own pleasure, but as the hours passed I became more and more confused and truly at a loss about what I should do.

  Zackary came down, and immediately Mrs. Blackmore began to fuss over him. For the last two days, I had been allowing him to eat dinner in the kitchen instead of the big dining room that felt cold and impersonal. He sat down and quietly ate his dinner paying little attention to the cartoon that I turned on for him.

  When it was time to retire for the day I headed to my room and sat on my bed, staring up at the intercom. Waiting but for what I wasn't sure. I had turned him down. What did I expect? He would come chasing after me! After a while I got up and headed over to the window, hoping to see his silhouette at his window just as I had multiple nights in the past.

  But he never appeared, and his lights never came on.

  My heart waited for a call to come from him until I eventually fell into a restless slumber. All I had were the memories of his touch, a bitter sweet company.

  Chapter 39

  Charlotte

  A few more days passed, and there was no word from either Zackary’s father or mother. I adhered to Zackary’s schedule and we, the staff, were left to fend for ourselves. More than ever the house seemed eerily cold and forlorn.

  More often than not I would catch myself staring at the intercom, or out of the window over at his darkened part of the wing and wonder when he would return. Often, I would think I had made a terrible mistake by turning him down. How could I have been so stupid to put someone else’s happiness before my own? Then Zackary would smile at me in a certain way and I knew I had done the right thing.

  No love is worth destroying a child for.

  A week passed before Barnaby came into the kitchen with an important announcement. "Mr. King will be back tonight, Mrs. Blackmore. It will be way past midnight so perhaps make him something light to eat."

  "I'll have to stay awake late again.” Mrs. Blackmore groaned lightly, and turned to the basket of garlic that she was peeling.

  I thought long and hard about it before I opened my mouth to speak. "I think I'll be up later today so if you prepare it, I'll warm it up, and take it to him."

  “Are you sure, love?" she asked. "I can easily hand it over to Carrie to take since she's in charge of his wing, anyway."

  I gave her a simple smile. "It’s okay, I can do it for her."

  "Alright," she said, her smile bright. “I’ll have to explain to you how to warm it properly, though."

  “Okay, show me later.”

  "You've also been quite withdrawn these past few days. Is everything alright?"

  I nodded. "All is well. I've just had some things to think through.”

  “Well I'm here if you need me," she said with a sincere smile.

  I smiled bac
k in gratitude.

  What seemed like many hours later, I was on my way to Mr. King's suite. I was sure I was courting fire, but still I couldn't stop myself.

  I heard his voice before I knocked on the door. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but the deep and quiet rumble of his voice was more than enough to listen to. He spoke clearly and without hurry, as if the whole world was required to match his pace.

  I knocked, and to my surprise he came to the door and pulled it open. When he saw me, he stopped, and a strange expression crossed his eyes.

  "Sure," he said to the speaker on the phone, as his eyes bored into mine.

  "I brought you some food," I murmured.

  Without acknowledging my presence or words, he turned away. Leaving the door open he headed back into the room. He took a seat in the lounge chair and continued with his call while I followed Mrs. Blackmore’s instruction and laid down his meal on his dining table.

  As I waited for him to finish his call, I tried not to feel hurt that he didn't immediately disengage. I could hear that it was neither urgent nor important. He was forcing me, just like the rest of the world to go at his pace. Now, I was just another member of his staff.

  Just as I was turning away to leave, he put the phone away and turned his attention to me. "I didn’t expect you to still be here.”

  I had the choice to be snotty, or polite as my status required. I chose the latter route. It would clarify the message of what we currently were. He was my employer and I was one of his staff.

  "I couldn't leave Zackary uncared for when both his mother and father were absent. I have already asked the agency to look for my replacement and they will send someone as soon as Madam returns. I promise that whoever the agency sends will be a great nanny, and she will love Zackary immensely.”

  "The way you throw around that word," he said bitterly. "Is love that cheaply acquired?"

  "Not cheaply, but easily, especially when the recipient is a brave, beautiful child like Zackary. He steals hearts quite easily."

  He didn't say a word, but continued to watch me.

  “Do you know when … er … Madam will be back?”

  He shrugged carelessly. “Madam is in a voluntary rehab facility so it is anyone’s guess when she decides to call it a day.”

  I cleared my throat and stated my request. "Then could you perhaps, please, clear your schedule tomorrow after lunch? About two o’clock in the gazebo. Zackary wants to show you how he flies his kite.”

  I was sure he was going to say no so I quickly added. "Please make this happen even if it's for ten minutes. I have spoken to him and this is one case where his excitement to fly the kite trumps anything else. I think it would be a good time for you to reignite your relationship.”

  I turned around to leave then, and he didn’t stop me. It broke my heart, but it was me who had made the choice.

  My only hope was he would honor the request. Before I left, I was going to try my very best to ensure that Zackary began the process of getting over the unreasonable and warrantless fear of his father.

  Chapter 40

  Brett

  I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this nervous.

  I stood before the mirror in my walk-in closet. I dressed in a blue hoodie and dark slacks. It was a little past two. The time for my appointment with Zackary was here and all I could see in the mirror was the mangled skin that was still visible even when I wore the mask.

  I closed my eyes and tried to block out the image of Zackary screaming and running away in fright. I wouldn’t hold it against him if he did it again. He was just a kid, afraid of the monster his dad had become. Charlotte was right. It was time to try again. Especially now that Jillian was out of the house.

  The alternative was Zackary would grow up like I did, without an actual parent to lean on. I was lucky I had Stanley to step in and guide me, but Zackary had no one. Just a selfish drunk for a mother.

  Turning away from the mirror I headed out to the gazebo. They were already there. It seemed as if they had had a picnic.

  She was speaking to him, a smile on her face. He said something and she threw her head back in laughter. I felt my heart warm and expand. This was the woman for me.

  Then she noticed me and so did Zackary. My eyes slid over to him and I watched his face. His whole body tensed. I could recall that expression from memory. Pure fear.

  Charlotte rose to her feet as I arrived and invited me to take a seat between the both of them. For the first time in years I was facing my son. He was staring at me as one would a highly colored snake. Equal measure of fascination and fear.

  I softened my voice as much as I could. "How are you, Zackary?"

  He turned to Charlotte for reassurance and met a blinding smile and a nod to urge him on.

  "Fine," he mumbled.

  I smiled.

  I could see him wringing his hands nervously in his lap. I put my hands behind my back. "It's okay to feel nervous but you shouldn't always show it to other people. Now if you put your hands under the table nobody would ever know and you would still look very powerful to everyone. I am nervous too, but can you tell?”

  He thought on this for a little while. “Why are you nervous?”

  “Because you are my only son and I love you so much, but I am afraid you will be scared of me.”

  Instead of removing his hands, he flattened them on the table. "I'm not nervous anymore so I don't need to hide them. I’m not afraid of scars. Charlotte has a scar too,” he announced.

  "Well then little Mr. King you're the most powerful man here."

  “Show your scar, Charlotte,” he said.

  Charlotte turned her hand over and I saw the white scar on the inside of her wrist.

  “You can touch it, Daddy,” he said. “Go on, Daddy.”

  I reached my hand and let my finger trace the smooth scar. I could feel her blood pounding under my skin and my own blood heating up, the sweat on my skin starting to sizzle. I wanted to grasp her wrist, pull her to me, and kiss her right there, but I didn’t even look up into her face. I lifted my hand and looked at my son.

  He smiled suddenly, a big beaming smile, and it warmed my heart to bursting.

  When I was slightly more composed I turned to Charlotte and caught the look in her eyes as she watched me. It was one of complete adoration. I felt almost lightheaded with joy. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  Fortunately, she had better sense than me. She turned away quickly. "See, Zackary," she said to him. " there's nothing to be afraid of. Your father is brilliant, is he not?"

  For a moment Zackary looked like he wanted to disagree, and the genuine indecision on his face made Charlotte laugh. A second later, I forgot to be self-conscious that I was the butt of their joke and laughed too. Because he did truly look so adorable. I was fascinated by my son. He had grown so much. He could understand everything I said, and talk back. It was wonderful.

  Carrie came from the house carrying a tray with little desserts on it. She asked if I wanted something to drink, but I refused. Charlotte immediately stood and started to do something with the tray. My eyes slid over to her. She was in a pair of tight jeans and I couldn't help but notice the curve of her hips. She had a beautiful full butt. The kind that you wanted to watch as she rode you reverse cowboy. I thought of it spread out on my stomach.

  Suddenly, I was rock hard in the gazebo with my son a few feet away. It was the last thing I fucking needed. I quickly turned my attention back to my son. “So when do we fly the kite, then?”

  “After dessert,” Charlotte said, turning back to catch my gaze.

  I didn't look away, and she couldn’t have missed the raw desire for her that consumed me day and night.

  She forced a smile to her face and held out a little plate. There was a dainty square piece of chocolate dessert on it. I stabbed it with my fork and pushed the whole thing into my mouth. Fuck, I was so turned on, it tasted of nothing. To my surprise, my son copied my action exactly.


  With his mouth full, he announced, “I’m ready.”

  “Wait for Charlotte,” I said, and we sat there and watched her eat her piece. She had no idea what she was doing to me. Or maybe she did. Hell, the woman ate chocolate as if she was giving it a blowjob.

  I stood from the chair not knowing what to do. She finished her dessert and we walked to the middle of the green she said, “Aren’t you going to show Daddy your painting?”

  Immediately, Zackary held his kite up for me. I stopped walking and stared at figure of a man with the black face. That stick figure was me. I was holding hands with another smaller stick figure. I looked from the painting to Zackary’s face.

  He took the kite from me. “That’s you me and Mummy,” he declared proudly, stabbing at the three stick figures.

  I had to fight back tears. In his world, we were holding hands.

  “Don’t be rough with the kite," Charlotte cautioned softly.

  Zackary became as still as a statue. His degree of concentration was amusing and I would have laughed out loud if my heart didn’t feel as if it was in a vise.

  Charlotte tapped affectionately on the tip of his nose. "You don’t have to go that still."

  I had never flown a kite. Until I was ten and before Stanley came into my life, my childhood consisted of schoolwork, housework, and regular beatings. Since I didn't know how to fly one, I sat back down when we made it to the middle of the green and watched them.

  It was a windy day and they struggled with the kite, but every moment was one to be relished. I watched as they ran about in the grounds with the kite, crashing it continuously, until finally it rose into the air. For a time I held my breath and felt the beauty that could be found in the simplest of activities.

  Until the kite got lost in a tree.

  Both of them looked as though they would burst into tears and I couldn’t tell who was the child.

  "Go get the gardener, Zackary," she said.