Outside, the wind was picking up, and a storm was brewing. The sky was sliced open by flashes of lightning every few seconds. Meanwhile, Marina and I were cozied up in my snug living room, lounging on a soft, cherry-red velvet couch, sipping coffee from delicate, handmade porcelain cups.
“Take that cover off,” my friend said, glancing at the wall where a mirror hung, shrouded in fabric.
“No, I can’t. It’s better if it stays covered.”
“Why? He’s not here, is he?”
“Yeah, I’m too scared to bring Vlad over to my place. So we keep sneaking around hotels like we’re married lovers with jealous spouses waiting at home.”
“Well, he doesn’t have anyone, right?” Marina took a bite of apricot pie. “Mmm, this is amazing. Can you jot down the recipe for me?”
“Sure, no problem. He doesn’t have a girlfriend, but he still lives with his parents. And I’m not ready to go over there and meet them.”
“Then let him stay over at your place…”
“But I’ve got the mirror!”
We both looked up in unison, our eyes landing on the wall where It hung, draped in a dark scarf.
“It’s not right to cover a mirror like that. People only do it when there’s a death in the house!” Marina got up from the couch, crossed the room in two quick strides, and tugged at the edge of the scarf. It slipped softly to the floor.
“There we go,” she said, twirling in front of the mirror to check out her reflection. “I don’t see anything weird about it. It’s just a mirror. A little dull, maybe, but that’s probably because of its age. I’d sense bad energy if there was something off. You know I’m good at picking up on that stuff.”
I nodded. Marina was obsessed with all things esoteric. She’d taken a ton of online courses, read stacks of books, and even earned a certificate as an astropsychologist.
“That’s exactly why I asked you to come over,” I admitted. “You’re my last hope. If you can’t tell me anything concrete, I don’t know who else to turn to.”
“Alright, then let’s get into it. Tell me everything from the beginning,” Marina said, settling back onto the couch and tucking a cushion behind her. “Wait, hold on. First, let’s check out some metaphorical cards.”
She hooked a finger through the strap of her tiny purse sitting on the floor and pulled out a deck of cards wrapped in red silk.
“I brought my ‘Tango with Fears’ deck,” she said, handing it to me. “Take a good look and pick one.”
I started flipping through the cards with curiosity. It felt like they weren’t drawn by a single artist but pieced together by some imaginative kid who’d cut out illustrations from random books, newspapers, and magazines, then glued them all into a collage.
“Okay, I’ll go with this one,” I said, tapping the first image that caught my eye.
It was black and white, showing a young woman who looked a bit like me. She stood by a wall patterned with black-and-white squares, like a chessboard, listening intently to something.
“Okay, I figured as much,” Marina said with a satisfied tone. “This card says, ‘The fear isn’t behind you; it’s in your head.’”
“What’s that supposed to mean? That I’ve lost it and tried to hurt my ex, but now I can’t remember any of it?”
I glanced up at the mirror. My reflection seemed to ripple faintly, like the surface of a still pond on a breezeless summer afternoon.
It really did feel like the start of losing my mind.
“Alright, you go first. Tell me everything, and then I’ll share what I think,” Marina said with a nod.
“Where should I start? With meeting Vlad?”
“Forget Vlad for now. Let’s talk about the day you first saw that mirror!”
I paused for a moment, lost in thought. My mind drifted back to a scorching August day on Andriyivskyy Descent in Kyiv. I could almost hear the chatter of passersby, the distant honking of cars, the notes of a street musician’s violin. And I saw it—a vivid, golden-orange ray of the setting sun resting on the bronze frame of the mirror, like a cat’s paw.
And then, the moment I stopped dead in my tracks, seeing myself in the mirror—and yet, not myself. It was such a strange feeling…