the uncomplicated day to day routine of living with my parents. Life was predictable. I could arise in the morning and have some assurance of what the day would bring. Could the people here in the city feel that safety, that consolation . . .yes, and the complacency that was spawned by such a predictable routine.
In doing what had always been done in the same way, almost always, indeed, at the same time, a rhythm was established that lulled one into believing that all was well with the world because all was truly well with the limited world within one lived. And now, once again, because of that accursed mirror, my life was being shaken, challenged, reshaped again. With David=s help and the mirror=s guidance, I must learn to adjust to this new environment, though every fibre of my body was urging me to flee. I must adjust because if I do not adjust, if I cannot adjust, I cannot find Robin. This adventure, like all the others, will change me in ways I do not yet understand. And when I return to the life I knew before, I will know it in a different way.
I took the mirror once more from my pocket and looked at my reflection. I had not yet asked it a question, so it did not give me an answer. No, not now. I returned the mirror to my pocket.
I looked at David. His expression was tense; his eyes focused straight ahead. I dared not interrupt his concentration to tell him of my fear and apprehension..
The Plan
Around one o=clock in the afternoon, we stopped for lunch. As David told me often happens in a city, we had trouble finding a place to park. The parking lot of the restaurant was crowded, so we had to leave the car on a side street and walk back two blocks only to have to stand in line for ten minutes until we were seated at a table.
AWhy didn=t we find a place to eat that was less crowded?@ I asked David.
David looked at me with the expression my father had when he thought I had asked a dumb question. AIt=s clear you haven=t had much experience with cities. The good places are always crowded, and the places that aren=t crowded don=t have the best food.@
ASo people wind up going where everyone else goes?@ I responded. ASomeone could have an excellent restaurant, but if it isn=t crowded, people will avoid it anyway.@
AI suppose so,@ David said in a tone that indicated he did not want to pursue this discussion further.
AYou look worn out,@ I ventured.
AYou noticed,@ David said sarcastically. AI=m sorry to be such a grouch. I find driving in the city nerve-wracking. It drains my energy. I hate it.@
ABut I thought you used to live in a city.@
AYes, I did. And I enjoyed it because someone else always drove me where I needed to go. The one time I wanted to drive myself was when my uncle insisted on driving me to the university, and that was mostly to avoid my uncle. Anyway, at that time, we weren=t living in a city nearly as large as this one, and the university was only a few miles from my house.
AOh, I didn=t mind short trips. I used to like to go to the movies or the park. Driving was necessary to get there because they were too far to walk. My idea of an ideal place to live is where you have everything you might ever want within walking distance of your house.
ABut, honestly, we have not been on a short trip. I have driven for days and days, and now that we are in a large city, the driving is harder than it was on those open country roads. I wish you knew how to drive so we could share the driving.@
I looked down at the table. AI=m sorry, David. I wish I could be more help to you. Perhaps some day you could teach me to drive.@
David sighed. I knew that once we found Robin and brought him home, David and I would part company, perhaps never to see one another again. Though David and I got along well, I knew we were beginning to wear on one another. We both wanted this ordeal to end as quickly as possible, which meant that we needed to find Robin as quickly as possible.
Once more I realized that both of us were worn down, exhausted. I told David that I thought we needed to find a motel and relax for the rest of the day, perhaps even for two days before we continued to look for Robin. The thought came to me that Robin might not even be here. If that were the case, we would have to rest in order to have the strength to confront that awful possibility. That would mean more driving, more as yet unknown adventures. No, the mirror would not do that to us after all we had been through. Robin had to be here somewhere.
We could also use the time of rest to plan carefully our strategy. I was sure that the mirror would give us clues to where Robin might be found. We could buy a map of the city, closely observe the images in the mirror to determine in what part of the city Robin might be, or even the specific building in which he lived or worked.
Thus far, we had been rather helter-skelter in our adventures, reacting to circumstances, rather than trying to anticipate and even control them. If we were to find Robin in this vast metropolis, we have to be more far more organized, far more intentional in how we approached our quest.
David immediately accepted my suggestion that we relax for the rest of the day, and even the next day as well, so that we could refresh ourselves for the most important, and perhaps the most difficult, adventure thus far. After an excellent lunch B perhaps big crowds do point the way to fine food B we found a nearby motel and settled in. We each took naps that lasted more than an hour, and we both felt less tense afterwards.
We watched a baseball game on the room=s television to flush our minds at least temporarily of our concerns. I myself felt more secure in the refuge that our room offered us, although I could still hear the traffic on the highway about a block away. Ah, if only we could stay here for a long time. Then we would truly be refreshed to start again.
But staying in the room indefinitely was not an option. Time continued to roll on without regard to how we felt. Our three months was slightly more than half over. I hoped we had at last found our big city, but we had not found Robin.
Neither David nor I talked about looking for Robin that afternoon or evening, but it was not far from our consciousness. After we had returned to our room from breakfast the following morning, I once again placed the mirror in front of me. I hesitated. What if the mirror did show us a long road ahead, thus directing us to travel on from this city to drive to another city hours, days, a month down the road. I could not bear such a response, and the mirror did not disappoint me?
When I asked the mirror where to find Robin, it showed me buildings that, to the best I could remember, were the buildings it had displayed when I asked it about Robin at Martha and Samuel=s. But the buildings had no signs to tell me what or where they were. I assumed, however, that they must be somewhere in this city, or the mirror would have given instructions to drive on.
I was close to despair. There were so many buildings in the city that it would take us forever to visit them all and try to match any particular building with one of the buildings in the mirror. I stared ever more intently into the mirror looking for some clue, any clue, as to which buildings these. And then a most peculiar thing happened.
As I peered more deeply into the mirror, I felt myself drawn into the image. The buildings became larger, closer. It was as if I were soaring down from the sky to take a closer look at them. The people on the sidewalks who had seemed no larger than ants now became living, moving human beings. I looked into the windows and saw people at work. I even began to hear the noises of the traffic crowding the streets.
Down, down I floated until my feet touched the sidewalk, but no one seemed to notice me. No one looked up to see me descending from the heights. It was as if I was not there. But I was there, and there ahead of me at the corner was a street sign. I could read it: In one direction, it read Pierpont Street, in the other 52nd Avenue.
Now I had to get back to the motel room, but no sooner had I thought about going back, I found myself again in the room with the mirror still in my hand. Elated, I told David what had happened, and that the building we were looking for was at the corner of Pierpont and 52nd Avenue. Once we had a map of the
city, we would plot a route to get there.
AAnd once we=re there,@ David asked, Athen what?@
AWhy it=s clear,@ I answered. AWe will ask the mirror again for directions when we get to the intersection. And now that I know I can enter the scene in the mirror to view it close at hand, I will do it again and again until the mirror takes us directly to Robin. It may take us several steps to find him, but I have no doubt now that we will find him.@
ASounds really promising,@ David said with a smile. AWe may be close to the end of our search after all.@
Robin at Last
David and I had relaxed for a day and a half and, in addition, slept late the morning we were to resume our search for Robin, so we were well-rested. I had purchased a city map at a drugstore near the motel. We discovered that the intersection the mirror had shown me was some four miles from our motel.
We left the motel, followed the map, and found a parking spot two blocks from our target. We made our way through the crowds on the sidewalks, and, with the help of traffic lights, crossed the busy streets until, at last, we stood at a corner of the intersection of Pierpoint Street and 52nd Avenue. I felt excited that after all our travels, we now stood within walking distance of Robin.
Yet, Robin still seemed as elusive as ever. There were four tall buildings, one on each corner of the intersection. To me they looked like skyscrapers, but the tallest had at most thirty stories. Collectively, however, they contained more than one hundred stories and far more offices. And in each office were many individuals. Even worse, Robin=s building might not be at the intersection, but could well be some building nearby.
So I took my mirror in hand and asked once more where Robin was. Now the mirror displayed an image of the building across the street from where we were standing, the tallest one of all.
When the light permitted, David and I crossed the street and stood in front of the building the mirror had pointed out. A sign in gold letters set in white marble over the broad front entrance read AWaltrop and Company, Bankers.@
The wall of the building consisted mostly of ribbons of tinted glass from the street to the highest floor. The ribbons of glass were interspersed with ribbons of gleaming black marble. The main entrance consisted of two panels of two doors each on each side of a broad revolving door in the center. The doors were set back under an overhang of black marble that sheltered persons entering and leaving from sun and rain.
We moved through the revolving door into a spacious lobby. We noticed benches provided near several of the windows, but no offices. There was a security guard seated behind a desk about 15 feet in front of a bank of elevators. We also noticed a building directory to the right of the elevators.
We started toward the directory hoping to find Robin=s name on it, but we were challenged by the security guard before we reached it. AYoung men,@ he called, AI need to know your business here. Who are you looking for?@
I approached the guard. AOfficer, we=re looking for a man named Robin. He is the son of close friends of ours, and they lost track of him. They asked if we could help them find him so they could re-establish contact. Is there a man who works here by the name of Robin?@
The guard looked me over carefully. AI don=t know the first names of everyone in this building. Do you have his last name?@
His last name. I had spent all that time with Martha and Samuel and never asked them for their last name. But I did see some mail addressed to Samuel. AAs best I can recall, officer, his last name is Marshall.@
The officer smiled. ASo the best you can recall of the last name of the son of your close
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