The Mystic Mirroring of Benjamin Braddock

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own; yet. It showed me several reflections; and I wanted no part in either of them...

Like a fool, I had picked up the phone the afternoon of Friday, October 30th of Senior Year. It was Amanda Wheeler's voice to invite me out with her, Bo Bastion, Shane Mannon, and Myra Chase after the big game. I hadn't really been invited out along with Bo, Shane, and Myra since Junior High right around the time of Mandy's arrival and her prompt connection with Bo as only the star jock and head cheerleader could share. I could never tell either of them that my newly imposed isolation was for the better for me as well; Mandy viewed me as undesirable as even an acquaintance and I, a red-blooded high school guy, had an uncomfortable fascination with her; and a strict code of etiquette against swiping another guy's girlfriend; especially that of the head quarterback and, formerly, one of my best friends...

So, it was Amanda's Siren Song, and the promise of group unity once more, that had drawn me to the Homecoming game if only to meet everyone afterwards and wind up as a human buffer between Myra and Shane in the middle of the backseat of Bo Bastion's Cadillac. I wondered if we were just going to bum around town to all of the popular dives; or maybe even a Homecoming Party with the promise of libations, loose acting, and fond memories...

Then, the Cadillac left town behind. In fact, it was traveling up a treacherous and darkened pathway as though Bo's precious car was on a misguided "suicide mission for classic automobiles." The car's seemingly misguided journey was mirrored by the fact that the other four passengers all seemed confident in right where we were going. It had been ages since I had been invited along to be with friends; and I'd never been invited to spend an evening with Mandy (oh; and the rest of the group) Who was I to voice dissent now...?

A twisted, foreboding, (0bviously) empty mansion finally stood before us. Bo's Cadiallac, either with his permission or under its own power, stopped and its lights went out.

"Hillcrest Mansion!" Bo bellowed at his only natural volume. "You all know the Hillcrest legacy, right?"

Shane nodded as sweat materialized on his brow at 10 at night in the chilly heart of late October. Myra glanced about and, for the first time since eighth grade, her eyes were on me as the physical presence between her and Shane. Then, for the first time since Seventh Grade, her hand clutched to my arm. The sensation of her touch hadn't changed in five years. From the front seat, Amanda clamped on to Bo's nearest arm to her like a vice.

"It's creepy!" she declared, trembling where she sat.

"You know that it's eerie; and you don't even know nothing about the legend!" Bo snorted.

Then, rather than reguiling Mandy with scary tales the night before...the big Homecoming dance (oh, and Halloween), his eyes met the rear view mirror.

"You go first; we'll be right behind you all of the way!" Bo vowed.

Mandy unleeched her arms from Bo's big strong muscles; and smacked Mr. Head Quarterback in the head.

"You've got to be kidding; me, in a decrepit old house that probably doesn't even have a maid, or butler, or concierge, or..." she whined.

Mandy's voice, and her mannerisms, sounded much better in the privacy of my own mind; the only place where the two of us shared anything at all. Anyway...

"...Not YOU!" Bo retorted, taking his eyes off of the mirror for only a moment; then, the reflection of his brown eyes met my face again. "Braddock; YOU're up! And we'll be right behind you, of course..."

Me; he had meant me. I couldn't turn down friends now.

"Pleeeease, Ben?" Mandy wheedled in a voice that was a far cry from her angry shrieks before.

Beside me, Myra clinched even stronger to my arm; and, from my other side, Shane didn't wind up to deck me, despite Myra instigating the contact.

"Big, Strong Benny!" she cooed, delicately.

Who was I turn down friends, or Bo's jocularity, or Mandy's pleading, or Myra's touch? I managed to unsnap my seatbelt and lunged excitedly over the length of the car to land, gracefully, in front of it. I was being promised friendship again; and now Spider-Man's athletic prowess had nothing on Benji Braddock!

I marched up the duration of a path that had only really been meant for cars; and, even then, one vehicle at a time. I reached the creaking outer steps and made my way up. I pushed the door experimentally, only for it to fly wide open. I entered the darkened, abandoned foyer with confidence that I had earned back my childhood friends in my newfound act of obedience. Did they not promise to be right behind me? I glanced up and could even see Shane behind me...

...Shane? Even if Bo had sent me in first, wouldn't he have followed as second-in-line if only to redeem himself to his beloved Mandy?

Then, as the door closed and sealed, I no longer saw Shane, or the car, or the outside world. By then, I'd been too far confident in my friends' newfound sense of comradery to lunge and stop the door from closing. Then, I heard the sound of the Cadillac's rear door, then the sound of the engine as the vehicle peeled away down a treacherous road not meant for walking; and barely meant for more than one vehicle at a time...

I unfroze long enough to test the door to the mansion. Of course, the door had been locked. I was abandoned; alone again (naturally).

The dark definitely didn't bother me anymore. Not even the locked mansion was (really) my primary concern. The problem for me, even after years of forced seclusion, was the isolation.

Then, my desire to be seen and heard by anyone reached fruition in the form of my sensing being watched. I knew that I was in an abandoned house. Then, I not only felt watched, I heard a voice; clear as day and faintly familiar. It wasn't Shane's, or Bo's, or my father's, or definitely not Mandy's.

"Benjaaaaaamiiiiiiin." I heard again.

I turned again to face a glistening glow coming from...not a natural light; but from a nearby mirror. The mirror was glowing; oh, and seemed to be speaking.

"Yes?" I asked as the only thing I could think of in response.

A face finally reflected back at me in the mirror as I approached.

"...Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." the mirror declared.

The voice; it had been so familiar to me because it was a distorted, twisted version of my voice. As for the face, appropriately enough for my complexion, the mirror was cracked and dirty; but, beneath its foreboding natural glow was a disfigured version of my face. I was perplexed, but no less accommodating (besides, who else did I have for an audience)? I took a breath and considered my first question so as to not be answered with a lie.

"Mirror, Mirror, on the..." I began.

"...You have GOT TO be kidding me." the mirror shot back. "We're two well-qualified men here, aren't we; men who are interested in women?"

I reconsidered.

"Right." I answered. "So, Mr. Mirror, can you...what do you do anyway?"

The mirror's face grinned back.

"...Ah; a question of curiosity!" it answered in a far more amicable voice. "I project the future, my boy. Ask me for a revelation!"

I was a senior in high school; and one who had been far too lonely for far too long.

"Show me...notoriety...and popularity." I declared.

The mirror's face chuckled.

"Popularity and notoriety as you've never known, my boy; and, remember, this is the future, if you allow it to be." the mirror vowed as its glow intensified and, finally, scattered into lifelike images in my mind...

"I was in California for...reasons. I must have been 25 and was driving a Lamborghini! A gorgeous blonde sat at my side. It took a moment to recognize her as Amanda.

The two of us pulled up to a chic gala and were greeted by rubberneckers who had clearly anticipated our arrival. Shane was among those watching and waiting for us. I could see my parents too. As we pulled to a stop, I opened my driver's side door to the flash of cameras and a flurry of shouted questions about...what did it matter; I was FAMOUS; NOTEABLE!

I popped the passenger side door to the Lambo' open next and Amanda exited the vehicle to join me in my publicity. Luckily, mine was a very big spotlight, and I was honored to have the beautiful Amanda Wheeler to share it with!"

The mental image faded out as real as it had always been to me and left me standing before a mirror that had left out the nitty-gritty details of why I had been so famous or where Amanda had, suddenly, taken such a liking to me (although, I had a sense that the extra large spotlight surrounding me had something to do with it). Part of me no longer cared about the stipulations; I had seen Amanda wanting me!

According to my new soothesayer, the mirror, that was but one future meant for me to grasp. I thought for a moment and regarded the mirror once more.

"Show me a future with family," I requested; then, since I had just seen notoriety and importance and wanted to step back to see home life, I added a "please" to add to the sincerity.

"A romantic then!" The mirror chortled in its disjointed version of my own voice and through its even more disfigured version of my image. However, it complied and my mind could see the next images.

"Show Mandy and I at home." I insisted.

The mirror gave a funny chuckle but the images did unfold...

I saw a white-picket fence and nice neighborhood. Clearly, I had never left North Carolina as the State of my youth. I was driving my family's hand-me-down Corsica. I hoped that in this iteration of life, Amanda would understand the downgrade; though I somehow doubted it...

I approached the blue door on the white house and slid my key into the lock. Between my day in remedial Customer Service and my own disappointment in my future, I was exhausted.

"Honey," I called (to go by my voice, I must have been thirty), "I'm home."

"Darling!" answered a familiar voice that was not Amanda's as Myra glided through the kitchen and into the entryway to recieve me properly. "How was your day?"

"Better now that I'm here with you again." I answered. (If my thirty-something old self had been surprised by the sudden change in romantic partners, he had just recovered famously).

"Oh, dear." Myra answered, squeezing my hands gently. "I know that this is not the life that you hoped for. It is the life that we have."

"And I get to share it with you." I added, pecking her on the forehead. "What is for supper?"

"Stroganoff is already on the table." Myra reassured me as I followed her into the kitchen after a long day.

I was not the popular success story I had always wanted to be. I was successful enough to satisfy the needs of a caring wife...

I was still genuinely confused by the drastic shift in partners as the vision ended. The mirror, my mental guide, seemed to genuinely understand my disorientation.

"Did you want me to show you Amanda's happy home life next; or is that best left unknown?" it demanded, snottily.

I had a sinking feeling that the answer was "better left unknown." Besides, between overnight success story (at what???) and home life of disappointment in my personal failures, there had to be a happy medium.

"Show me as successful at my job." I requested.

"At once." the mirror obliged me.

I was in North Carolina. The white house with blue door and white picket fence remained. However, I drove a Solstice rather than the hand-me-down Corsica. My grungy clothes as customer service worker were replaced by a power tie, power suit, and obligatory power bluetooth headset in my ear. I paced the immaculate living room and spoke into the receiver to a new client. Myra, my beautiful Myra, sat ignored at the table while the family cat ate from its dry food.

"Benjamin, dear," Myra said as I paced back and forth in clear business talks, "your roast is getting cold."

"In a minute, baby." I called back; then to the headset again: "No...that was to my wife. Can't walk around calling our beautiful lady clients "baby," now can I?...No, no; that won't be necessary. We are still very interested in your business...That's great...We'll see you then. Toodles."

I hung up the phone and approached the table expectantly.

"Dinner," Myra asked in a tired tone, "baby?"

"I'm at the table, aren't I?" I snorted.

Then my pocket began spontaneously ringing and I wasn't at the table for long...

The images ended and I hated the person that I saw with a passion. The reflections in that mirror weren't me; flinging around arm-candy in return for a piece of notoriety, stuck in a deadend customer service job, a big shot who ignored the people around him (and, apparently, flirted with clients over the phone while his wife sat patiently maybe 100 steps away).

I needed to take my mind off of the disgusting futures that I had just seen while my "friends" had abandoned me as their little joke.

Then, it hit me. Amanda was with me in one of those images; so where was Bo? Myra Chase and I could possibly be married; so what of her father, Doctor Thomas Chase, a man who, when I was thirteen and still in Seventh Grade, knew of my family's lineage and knew that I would never be good enough for his daughter.

With that tense conversation fresh in my mind (Did Myra know that's why I had broken off ours as my first and last relationship), I knew that there was only one outcome where Myra and I could be man and wife. I decided to be slightly less vindictive.

"You offered to show me Amanda's future whether I was in it or not." I told the mirror.

"I could if asked directly." the mirror reassured me, haughtily.

"Show me Bo's." I answered, ignoring the snooty back and forth. "I mean, you already showed me at least one outcome where I end up with Mandy."

"I only awaited your asking." the mirror answered with a snicker; and a new round of images came forth...

Bo Bastion, high school quarterback, now worked (where else?) in Fast Food. He was just taking his greasy, obese self onto a shift break. He then seated himself at a two-person table opposite...

"Wait a second; Chris Cole?" I retorted, barely able to suppress a fit of uproarious laughter at the expense of, yes, who used to be my best friend. What was HAPPENING here; and was it ALL the fault of the mirror?

"Ah how original; the Varsity Quarterback, having the best years of his life now by piggy-backing off of making the 'lesser' classes miserable, grows to work in Fast Food; and is gay." the mirror retorted for me in a twisted version of my own voice.

"...The Cole family; at least he married into money." I answered, neglecting for a second my own "happy marriage" future where I was in the dead end of Customer Service at the local tavern...

"...How naive of you, Benjamin!" the face (allegedly "my" face) in the mirror shot back. "I am giving you pearls of wisdom of what your future may give you if you are to take it, I have shown for you justice for those whom have turned their backs on you, and you defend your persecutors. Say thank you to me."

I was alone with my thoughts, no matter how vindictive at the moment, and a haunted mirror that seemed to be projecting a future to my liking. No wonder I hated what I was seeing from this haunting piece of glass!

"No; I will defend those around me!" I shouted.

Then, to clarify, I picked up a nearby wood chair and smashed the mirror with its (likely false) images and projections.

"You little fool!" the haunting voice in my mind (yes, the mirror's words had been in my mind all along as opposed to its spirit babbling aloud) shouted with a reverberating sinister chuckle.

Suddenly, the "future" spirits and spectral images stood before me. I now faced down myself three different times; either miserable in my own "failure," riding high off of popularity, or as a business big shot. The phantom "Amanda Wheeler" was dressed to impress in her glitzy gown and clearly in the corner of either "popular" me or "successful" me. The spectral "Myra Chase" only looked disappointed and it couldn't know if she represented the home life of "minimum wage" (but happy marriage) me or "tycoon" (with jaded wife) me. "Bo Bastion's" phantom state had nothing to sneer at anymore; no need for his self-confident swagger. Instead, his aged features gazed at me in...remorse??? Shame??? Either way, I knew that there was only one way to cast aside these phantoms and end this horror; even of my own mind's making...

"I forgive you," I declared, "my friend..."

Bo's spectral state smiled in relief and seemed to fade. I turned to Myra's phantom form next and saw the disappointment in her features. I reached out to "chuck" the ghost "under her chin..."

"You were always the girl who was there for me; I love you now and I'll cherish our time forever." I told "her."

Myra's spirit state (and Amanda's too) vanished at those words. I only faced down a business tycoon, a Hollywood bigshot, and a jaded service worker.

"I've got time to figure out a future with room for bits of pieces of the three of you." I announced.

The last of the images faded and the shattered mirror blasted one final burst of blinding light...

===========================

It was Monday morning and my alarm clock woke me. I was somehow not only out of the locked mansion and away from the mirror; I was home again. The fact that I had lost Saturday and Sunday somewhere was irrelevant. I had conquered my resentments about my only friend group having turned on me at the end of Junior High and, now as a Senior, I was ready to do the grunt work of reaching back out to them...

I sprinted downstairs and grabbed a pastry to eat on the road. My parents seemed startled by the extra pep in my step; but no more startled than they were when I made sure to add that I loved them before heading out...

Amanda, Myra, Shane, and Bo stood in their usual space by Bo and Shane's locker. The scene of Bo, Myra, and Shane together looked so normal that it flashed back to Eighth Grade and I nearly forgot myself. That was it; forgive and forget.

"Hey, how's it going, guys?" I asked as I walked passed them to my own locker, even knocking knuckles with a confused Bo.

"He lives!" Shane blurted out.

"Yeah, man." Bo murmured to him; then, to me: "Hey, Ben, my man...!"

I turned to acknowledge Bo and all four of them marched up to me, each talking over one another about how impressed they were that I had made it or how sorry they were for what had happened. At some point during a lull in her part of speaking to me, Myra smiled shyly. If not for my respect for what she and Shane now had, I would have pledged myself back to her all over again in the middle of the hallway. It had taken four years of high school to rediscover my friend group; on November 2 of my Senior year, I was home again...