The Attic

by Sara Bourgeois

  A couple more careful spritzes of the glass cleaner and Sammy went to town on the glass with the towels. A bit of elbow grease was all it took, and within minutes, the glass made that satisfying rubbing sound on her last few passes.

  Sammy threw the dirty paper towels away and tossed the rags in the laundry. After putting the cleaner bottles away, she returned to the mirror to admire her handiwork. Standing a few feet away with her arms crossed over her chest, Sammy couldn't help but congratulate herself on what a good job she'd done with the mirror.

  For the rest of the afternoon, she'd smile whenever she saw it. Generally, she'd hate doing chores on her day off, but being up and around doing the cleaning and laundry gave her plenty of excuses to walk by the mirror and admire it.

  One time, it did give her pause. She'd just come downstairs and was turning to walk into the kitchen when a flash of something caught her eye. At first, Sammy thought she'd seen someone come down the stairs just behind her. But, when she whirled around, no one was there.

  It was bizarre in that the person she'd thought she'd seen following her looked almost like a carbon copy of herself. But, it wasn't the self she'd been before the mirror. The woman behind her looked like the darker-haired version Sammy had seen in the mirror while she cleaned it.

  Sammy stared at her reflection for a few moments wondering if anything would appear behind her again. A chill ran down her spine, and she scolded herself for thinking such strange thoughts.

  A meow issued from her feet and Sam realized that Tut had been the one following her. How her mind had turned her ginger kitty into a dark-haired woman was a mystery to Sammy, but working in mental health taught you that the brain can do strange things.

  At least, she hoped that it was it.

  Chapter Five

  The scent of unfamiliar spices filled the air as John walked into the house. He could hear the soft sound of Sammy in the kitchen humming. The food she was cooking smelled delicious, but he didn't know exactly what it was. The dishes she'd been preparing had to have been something she'd never made before.

  He stood in the doorway and watched her for a little while before saying anything. Sammy had her hair pulled up into a bun on top of her head, and she was wearing big hoop earrings. Her usual jeans and t-shirt had been replaced by a long flowing skirt and billowing white top. Sammy's feet were bare, but John could see that she'd painted her toenails a bright purple.

  "You look different," John said playfully as Sammy twirled around.

  A smile spread across her face. "I know, right. I dug these clothes out of my storage. It was a phase I went through when I was younger. I think I look great." She said and whirled around to stir the pot on the stove.

  "You always look beautiful," John said. "What are you making?"

  "It's Moroccan couscous and spiced lentils." She responded in a sing-song voice and went back to humming and swaying as she cooked.

  "I didn't know you knew how to make Moroccan food." John.

  "I felt inspired." She continued to dance around the kitchen. "Is that okay with you?" Sammy teased and then shimmied her hips at John."

  "It's more than okay." He said with a smile. "I'm going to go get washed up and changed for dinner."

  "Hurry back. It's almost done."

  John left the kitchen and headed for the stairs. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the mirror hanging at the base of the staircase. John shook his head in confusion and scratched his chin thoughtfully. How had he missed it when he came in the front door?

  He guessed that the door opening must have covered it almost completely. It just wasn’t something he'd been looking for, so his mind must have missed it. John stood there staring at the mirror for a minute. For some reason, he couldn't pull his eyes away from it. The smell of the spices in the food and the sound of Sammy's voice entranced him.

  "Sammy," John called out after shaking off the stupor.

  "Yeah, babe?"

  "What's the mirror doing hanging here?"

  "Oh, John. I hope you're not mad. I just couldn't part with it." She said in that sing-song voice. "Why don't you get ready for dinner? We'll talk over the meal."

  Upstairs in the bathroom, John felt irrationally annoyed at the bathroom mirror. He was surprised to find that he wanted to shatter it with his fist. John was usually an even-tempered man who didn't get angry, so the impulse to smash something was distressing.

  He wanted to get downstairs to dinner and speak with Sammy about the ornate mirror that hung in the front entryway. So, he hung a towel over the bathroom mirror and started the water. Out of sight, out of mind, John hoped.

  The hot water from the shower helped him relax his tired, stiff muscles. The steam cleared his head. John closed his eyes and let the hot water splash over his face. It had been a long day at work, and he had half a mind to just let Sammy keep the mirror. He was too tired to discuss it. What he wanted most was to fill his belly with dinner, drink a beer, and then crash out for the night.

  John threw on a pair of cargo shorts and a gray t-shirt before plodding down the steps to join Sammy for dinner. While he was in the shower, she'd set the table and lit a pair of long, white candles. There was even a bouquet of fresh lavender she'd snipped from her small garden in the backyard. Sammy was buttering him up, and at that point, John knew there would be no talking her out of the mirror.

  "It looks delicious. You'll have to tell me what I should do to inspire you more often." John teased.

  Sammy rolled her eyes and laughed. "It sounds weird, but I think it's the mirror that inspired me." She said dreamily as if speaking about a lover and not a useful wall decoration. "It just completes everything around here. There was something missing in the house until it came along."

  John thought what she'd said was bizarre, but it was kinda cute. He imagined that her job had to be stressful and depressing at times, and it was probably good for her to get excited about the little things.

  "Okay, sweetie. We'll keep the mirror." He said with resignation.

  "Oh, I was hoping you'd say that."

  She got up, came around the table, and gave John a huge hug. As she pulled back, a thunderous snap sounded from the kitchen. Sammy and John both jumped and hurried toward the kitchen as the sound of rushing water met their ears.

  The pipe in one of the walls had burst and broken through the plaster. Water spewed into the kitchen and flooded the hall. A loud bang resounded from the entryway.

  "Oh no, the mirror," Sammy said and splashed through the water as she tried to get to it before the water damaged the frame. "I hope the glass isn't broken."

  "Sammy, forget about the mirror. You've got to help me with this." John said with more than a hint of agitation.

  "One minute. Let me get it up on the stairs."

  Sammy used a rush of adrenaline to hoist the mirror up onto the stairs. Once it was safely out of the water, Sam scrambled back toward the kitchen. She felt sorry for abandoning John. Why was she more worried about that mirror than everything else in the house?

  "I'm coming back. I'm sorry." She said and grabbed a basket of towels that had been sitting on top of the dryer.

  "I've got to go down to the basement and shut off the water," John said.

  While Sammy spread the towels over the floor as best she could, John went down into the basement to turn off the water to the house. A couple of minutes later, the water stopped gushing from the pipe.

  John emerged from the basement. "I've got a wet/dry vac in the garage. I'm going to go get it. Can you suck up the water while I run to work and get dryer fans? We need to get this dry as soon as possible."

  "I can do that."

  John dragged the Shop Vac from the garage into the kitchen. He plugged it in over the sink to protect Sammy from shock. Sammy picked up the towels and put them in the washing machine before she started to vacuum up the water. She had to empty the tank three times, but all of the water was gone by the time John returned.

  He brought the drying f
ans into the house and turned them on. They were loud and hot, but they'd get the job done.

  John knocked a big enough hole in the wall so that he could replace the length of pipe that had broken. It didn't take him long, but he was overjoyed when he was done because the drying fans made the downstairs of the house feel like an oven.

  "I need to get to bed," John said. "I've got to be at work in a few hours."

  The next morning John was up before the sun. He emptied a pot of strong black coffee into a thermos. On his way out the door for work, John noticed the mirror was back up on the wall. Had Sammy gotten up in the middle of the night to put it up?

  Chapter Six

  The sun felt like it was beating John down. After two hours, John had to move into the house they were building and work on framing walls that were out of harsh light. Out of the sun, his head still pounded from the work going on around him. The lack of sleep and too much coffee most likely had him dehydrated.

  A couple of hours into his shift, dark clouds rolled across the sky. A short time later, thunder crashed, and a cool breeze swept through the house. It was still partially open as not all of the exterior walls had been built yet.

  The sound of the rain soothed him. Despite the fatigue John still suffered, he felt himself start to relax and get into the groove of work. The next couple of hours flew by, and before he knew it, guys were putting down their tools for lunch.

  John realized he hadn't packed his lunch that day as his stomach began to growl. He saw a couple of guys heading for a white pickup, and he could hear them talking about picking up some burgers.

  "Hey, fellas! You got room for one more?" He called after them and double-timed it toward the group.

  The rain had stopped, but the dirt around the construction site was spotted with puddles. As John hopped over one in his attempt to get to the truck, something caught his eye. There was a reflection in one of the puddles. At first, he'd thought it was Sammy. Perhaps she'd brought him lunch.

  "Go on, guys. Sammy's brought me lunch." He called out to the group.

  They gave him a peculiar look. "You sure?" one of them responded.

  "Yeah, go on. Sammy's right here." He said with a chuckle.

  The guys shrugged and got into the truck. As the last door slammed shut, a man named James shook his head as if John was being ridiculous. He couldn't figure out for the life of him why they were acting strangely. Sammy was right there.

  He turned around, and there was no one there. But, for a half second, John could still see the reflection. It was then that he realized it wasn't Sammy. Before the woman in the mirror disappeared, John realized that it was a young lady with dark hair and pale skin. John thought he'd seen her smile at him, but that could have been his imagination playing tricks on him.

  The guys were going to rip him a new one for acting weird. Oh well, he could play it off like he'd forgotten about a text message or something. Even though he was thoroughly creeped out, John's stomach continued to rumble. It occurred to him that the dehydration, hunger, and lack of sleep might be the cause of his hallucination.

  On the short walk to his truck, John made sure to avoid all the puddles he could. When he did have to pass by one, he'd look up at the sky or focus on the trees in the distance. It took actual concentration not to take a peek. It was as if they were attempting to pull him in.

  There was a long line at the drive-through, so John parked the truck and walked into his favorite fast food restaurant. The line was much shorter, and he'd had to admit to himself that the idea of sitting down and eating was appealing. The truck wasn't where he'd wanted to spend another lunch hour. Plus, there was the rearview mirror.

  While he stood in line, John tried to pick apart why the idea of dining with a mirror that close to his face had suddenly started to bother him. Why did it seem like every reflective surface was out to get him now?

  The image of the mirror they'd found in the attic flashed through his mind, but before he could latch on to the thought, the line moved. Just like that, the idea was gone.

  He ordered his food and stood off to the side to wait. Fortunately, the order was up quickly because as he'd leaned against the wall, John felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy.

  "John." The woman called as she slid a tray across the counter. "Can I get you anything else?"

  "Nope, this is good. Thank you."

  "Thank you, sir. Have a good day."

  John took the tray to a table in the corner of the dining area. Several other single people were sitting at tables in that section, and all of them were apparently trying to stay far away from the other side of the room where several noisy families were seated.

  He let his mind drift briefly to a vision of he and Sammy sitting at one of those tables with a couple of rugrats. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant thought. Although, he'd hoped that in their family, Sammy would look less frazzled and he'd be more involved. In the families he watched, the mothers looked like they were doing their best not to explode, and the fathers were sitting there pretending like they didn't know the women and children at the tables.

  He turned his attention back to his burger and Cajun fries when one of the harried mothers caught him looking. Not his circus, not his monkeys.

  When John got back to the job site, his supervisor was waiting for him. Delvin looked worried, and John wondered if he'd screwed something up in his sleep-deprived state. He knew he had plenty of sick days and vacation time. John figured he should've used some instead of coming in when he felt terrible.

  "I've been calling you," Delvin said when John got close enough.

  "I didn't hear my..." He began to respond, but it dawned on him that he'd left his phone sitting where he'd been working in the house. "Left my phone when I went to lunch. What's up?"

  "Sammy called. She tried to reach you by phone too. Something about a pipe bursting and your house flooding. You better get home, man."

  John raced back to his truck, after grabbing his phone, without saying another word. Delvin would understand. Had he messed up the plumbing he'd done last night? Had another pipe burst? John wasn't a plumber professionally, but the pipe replacement he'd done the night before had been solid. He knew it.

  John peeled into the driveway at home and almost forgot to shut the truck off as he raced into the house. The problem was that once he was inside, there was no burst pipe. Sammy wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. John flew up the stairs to make sure the leak wasn't in the upstairs bathroom, but no one was up there either. The house was empty, and there was no plumbing emergency that he could see.

  In fact, the dryers were turned off and lined up in the kitchen. Their cords had been neatly tied, and the floors were clean and dry.

  The front door opened. "John? Hey, baby, what are you doing home?" Sammy said as she came into the house. "Are you sick?"

  "Delvin said he got a call from you about a pipe bursting. So I rushed home."

  "It wasn't me, sweetie. I went into work for a couple of hours. Somebody screwed up, and patients started arriving early for the new ward. I went in to help the day charge nurse get people settled. I stopped by the store on the way home. I'm going to throw together a casserole for you because I need to go into work tonight. They promised me an extra day off in two weeks."

  John couldn't fathom going back to work. "Do you need any help in the kitchen?"

  "Nope. You should go lie down. You look awful." She felt his forehead. "I hope you're not coming down with something."

  "I think I'm just tired," John said.

  "Grab a beer and go watch TV," Sammy said as she walked to the kitchen.

  While she unpacked the ingredients from the grocery bags, John grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. Usually, he wouldn't drink in the afternoon, but he'd had no plans to go anywhere else that day.

  Half a beer and most of an episode of some crime show later, John's eyes began to close no matter how hard he fought. Even when the sound of a woman whispering his name began to emanate fr
om the mirror on the wall in the hallway, John couldn't keep them open. Dark sleep pulled him down into unconsciousness despite the protests from his racing heart.

  Chapter Seven

  John woke up with a start and found himself in bed. It was dark outside, and he wasn't sure how he'd ended up in the bedroom. The only thing he could figure was that he'd stumbled upstairs half asleep at some point in the afternoon or evening.

  It was the scratching outside the door that made his heart begin to thunder in his chest again.

  He checked the other bedroom after building up the courage to get out of bed and go into the hall. John felt like a kid again. The hair on the back of his neck had stood up as he thought of someone under the bed reaching out to grab his feet when he stood up.

  It was possible that Sammy was still at work. John checked the nearest clock, and it was after one in the morning.

  John thought that maybe Sam was downstairs eating some of the casserole she'd made or watching television to unwind. She rarely came home and went right to bed.

  He walked through the downstairs, and Sammy wasn't in the living room, dining room, or kitchen. John thought she was probably working overtime since the new ward had opened early and unexpectedly.

  His stomach reminded him that he'd only had one meal in the last twenty-four hours. The fast food meal had been hearty, but not nearly enough to sustain him. He took a bowl down from the cupboard and grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer. But, when John opened the fridge to grab the casserole Sammy said she was going to make, there was no casserole. He checked the shelf where she kept her bakeware, and sure enough, the dish she would have used to prepare the meal was still there.

  "She probably just got distracted," John said to himself.

  John had to fight the urge to call her. If Sammy was in the middle of something at work or driving home, he didn't want to distract her. As far as he knew, there was no reason to be worried. So, he decided to make a sandwich.