Mirrors

Mirrors

By: Aprill Jones

              It was a dark, rainy Saturday when I got word that my uncle Richard had passed. We were fairly estranged, my mother and father did not talk to him but twice a year, on Christmas and his birthday. He was not a bad man whatsoever, from my few interactions with him he was actually incredibly kind and funny. My parents just said that he was a hoarder and refused to leave his home, but somewhere in my subconscious, I understood. He had a beautiful, gothic style mansion that he and his husband Marcus had lived in for decades. They had plenty of animals to keep them company, and in 1989, one year after I was born, they welcomed two identical twin boys into our family, Jeremy and John.

              My cousins were my best friends, back when we were still young my mom would pick them up once or twice a week for sleepovers or playdates, we would run around outside and play with our plastic lightsabers or pretend that we were explorers, looking for some new animal species or pretend we were ghost hunters. We would create such intense and horrifying stories, on more than one occasion we scared ourselves half to death. Our scariest story was that two children had passed away in their fathers mansion and would haunt the family until they killed themselves with fright, just so the ghosts would have someone to play with forever. Very rarely was I, or my family, allowed inside of their home. My mom joked that it was just my uncle’s way of keeping a silly, long running joke, or to make his family appear mysterious for the rest of the town. They were already mysterious amongst the town: two gay, rich men, with the oldest home in New Hampshire, keeping themselves hidden from the rest of the world.

              There was one time I was allowed to go over, though. It was Jeremy and Johns’ birthday. We had a small party, but with enough pizza and soda to feed the entire state. The cake was massive, it was blue and orange, my cousin’s favorite colors, and it was about four feet tall. Originally, I was not supposed to stay the night, but my father ended up getting into an accident as he was on his way to pick me up. It was nothing too serious, but he did need to stay in the hospital for a few days so the doctors could look after his head wounds. Of course, no one told me. Uncle Richard just walked over to us and informed me that I would be staying the night and my mom would come pick me up in the morning.

              I was ecstatic. We planned to stay up all night, watch horror movies and eat ourselves into a coma. And we did just that, well, besides staying up all night. We ended up passing out just before midnight. For a while there, I was sleeping like a rock. Uncle Marcus had pulled in the guest bed so I could sleep in the room with my cousins, which, and I would never admit it to them, made me feel a lot safer. This was a huge house, and once the sun went down it had the aura of a dungeon.

              I woke up just before 4am. The sun was still down, and for the life of me I could not figure out why I had woken up with such a start. That was, until I heard the tapping. And then the giggling. I looked over to my cousins who were both snoring in their bunk beds. I was 13 at the time and I thought myself  braver than most, which is why I had the bright idea to get out of my bed. I told myself I was only going to go to the bathroom and if I did not see anything between our doorway and the bathroom doorway, then I must have been spooking myself. The bathroom was literally directly across the hall. I got up quickly, not looking down either side of the hallway and speedwalked into the bathroom, turning the light on before I put the rest of my body in there, then finally shut the door behind me. I sat on the toilet and tried to calm my nerves, I was looking at the books and magazines left in the bathroom. This one was mainly used for John and Jeremy and my uncles had their own private bathroom so it was mostly comic books in here. The only real book available, was the Bible, which was ominously opened to the start of book Revelations. I chuckled to myself, thinking this was just apart of their eccentric humor. I finished my business and made my way to the sink, jumping at the sight of the painting of Jesus behind me, which I had not noticed when I walked in. Again, I just laughed to myself, thanking God that no one was here to see me acting like such a chicken.

              Finally, I was making my way back to the bedroom, less frightened now. I laid back in bed, to once again here the quiet giggling and tapping.

              The rest of that night was a blur. I suppose I just had fallen asleep. The next morning, we were awoken with bacon and pancakes in the kitchen and the family seemed as jovial as a family could be. My mother picked me up at around 10 that morning, which is when she told me about my father. We went to visit him; my mom’s stuff was already there since she had stayed the night. Dad seemed to be in a rather great mood; if it had not been for the scratches and bruising on him, I would have assumed he was just as fine as any day. Dad was asking me about the sleepover and if I had fun and I told him about all the fun things we did. I left out the parts where we watched R rated movies and all the soda I drank the night before. Later on that day my dad was told he could go home. I helped mom pack up all her belongings and I asked the nurse if I could wheel my dad out of the hospital, which she smiled at me and told me was no problem. We made it home around 7 that night and ordered some food.

About a week later, my family got the news that Jeremy and John had passed away in their sleep. An investigation was done but it just seemed to be a mystery. There was no motive, there was no sign of a break in or murder. After months, the detectives told my uncles that there was probably a birth defect that was not caught since it had been a closed adoption.

              The funeral came and went, Uncle Richard and Uncle Marcus, at the time, seemed to be dealing with their loss as best they could. But I have learned how easy it is to fake a smile. How easy it is to fake being okay. A year to the day later, my Uncle Marcus committed suicide in the boys’ room.

It is now about 20 years later. My dad passed away from a lasting brain injury from the accident that no one caught. My mom is living in a nursing home now, too. And I just got the letter this morning that Uncle Richard has passed.

               There was no funeral held for him since there was no extended family besides me, anymore. And I learned quickly that I had inherited everything. The day after the funeral was busy signing paperwork and moving the entire fortune and estate to my name.

              “Well, Brian Scott, you are good to go,” said Uncle Richard’s lawyer.

              “Thank you so much, Mr. Wilcox.” He looked at me for a moment, as if he were realizing something for the first time. “Wow, you really look just like your Uncle. I had known him for about 40 years, and you could be his twin.” I smiled at him and thanked him once again. This was not the first time I had been told I looked like him. We both were taller men, short blonde hair and remarkably similar bone structure.

              I made it home to my husband, Leonard about twenty minutes later. We talked for hours and we both decided, since our lease was up in about a month, that we would move into the mansion. We made plans to start taking out all the old furniture and junk we did not need within the coming days. We were going to donate it all to families in need since we had no need for any extra income anymore.

              Weeks had passed and we were finally moved in. Leonard and I did our best to make this place our own. We wanted the home to be welcoming and inviting. We wanted our friends over for parties and cookouts as much as possible. This was going to be our home, forever. And hopefully soon, we could become parents.

Nothing strange happened right away. At first, everything seemed normal, we were happy, I was taking a leave at work to help keep up with this place, then we planned on hiring a cleaning person within the coming months. I was able to keep the house clean as much as possible, have dinner ready for Leo when he got home. It was a dream come true.

              After a couple weeks though, I did start noticing small things here and there. The tv would be on in a room I was not in; rooms would feel ice cold when I had the heat on. But it just kept getting bigger, and weirder. One day Leo got home from work a little later than usual, about 6:30 or so, and after he came in and kissed me, he asked me how I had gotten into the kitchen so fast. Bewildered, I asked him what he meant. He said as he pulled in, he could see me standing in our room, which was my uncles’ room, looking out the window, waving at him. I did not want him to see how scared I was, so I just played it off, saying it must have been a trick of the light. That was all that was said that night.

              The next morning, more tragedy struck. Our best friend, Megan had been killed by a drunk driver. She was pregnant at the time but miraculously, the babies were fine. Megan had no relationship with the father of the children, and that tragedy turned into a blessing for Leonard and I, as we quickly adopted her two children. Miles was the oldest, about 4, and we named the infant boy Richard.

              Leonard and I loved those children more than we could ever imagine. Every day we watched them grow and learn new things. Miles loved being an older brother, he would sit and talk to Richy for hours, showing him new and exciting toys or read him stories. My husband I could not have been happier.

Over the years we continued to grow more in love. Leonard and I adored our boys, who were now 8 and 4, we basically had a zoo in the backyard which consisted of goats and chickens. I ended up quitting my job after we adopted the boys, I never wanted to waste a moment of our time together. Miles was extraordinarily bright; although not the most imaginative child, he would read anything and everything you would put in front of him. He could teach me anything he wanted about science or literature, granted, I never took school to seriously. Which is why Leonard and I found it so odd when we came into his room one night to find him talking to no one. He did not jump when we knocked on the door, rather just turned and smiled. We calmly asked who he had been talking to, and were met with an eerie reply. “Jeremy and John just wanted to say hi, dad!” That comment…unsettled me.

              No, it was not a big secret I had hidden. Leonard and I were sharing stories like this on our first date, but it was strange for Miles to even say anything like it. We all knew this house could be odd: radios, tvs, the stove or microwave worked whenever they wanted to. Cabinets and doors would open and shut no matter how many locks we had on them. It was just a fact of the house. We never saw anything, and nothing ever seemed malevolent. After a lot of talking, Leo and I decided, stupidly in retrospect, that it was good for him to use his imagination. He was very lonely. He had a few friends at school, but he was almost too smart for them. He also had the reputation of living in a haunted house. By no means did Miles ever seem depressed, he loved his family, he enjoyed being a loner. We would love him and give him any advice he ever needed, but, at the end of the day, Miles was just Miles.

              Richard on the other hand, was as popular as you could be in kindergarten. He was an athlete, a class clown, and by all accounts, the sweetest kid any of the parents and staff had ever met. He did not have many sleepovers either I am afraid, but that was mostly because all his friends were so very young.

              It was now fall break, time for Thanksgiving and talking about Christmas presents. The four of us were in the kitchen, cooking and singing to our favorite songs. We had all been having a blast together, until something went terribly, terribly wrong. We had all been dancing around the kitchen when Richy started to vomit uncontrollably. A minute later, so did Miles. Leonard and I tried convincing ourselves he was only throwing up because he saw Richy throw up. But that was not the case.

              We went to the hospital immediately, both our children vomiting in the backseat the entire drive. By the time we got to the hospital both our children looked like they could have been extras in a zombie film. Their eyes were sunken in and their skin was a very pale yellow. It broke my heart seeing them like this. The nurses took them into their rooms privately to do check-ups, and that is when I lost it.

              There was nothing wrong. After 12 hours in the emergency room the doctors told us it was most likely an allergy. They had both been passed out, which the doctors said was normal. All that was said was we should watch them closely for the next couple of days but then they should return to their normal selves.

              That would never happen.

              Once we brought them home from the hospital, we laid them in bed. We got out the baby monitors we had not used in years and put them in the boys’ room. But the next morning, neither one of them woke up. My heart left my body that day. I broke down for days before and after their funeral. I barely spoke or ate. My poor Leonard had to take care of me around the clock. Then one day, I pushed all those feelings down. I tried my absolute best to be okay. And so did Leo.

              Months had passed before anything strange had happened. After the loss of our children, I figured that would be the worst of it, but I was wrong. The worst was hearing their laughter at all hours of the night. The worst was hearing them calling out for Leonard and I. The worst was thinking I had gone insane. But it was not me.

               I had gone to the grocery store one afternoon. It was mine and Leonard’s anniversary, and I wanted to do something special for him. I picked up some steaks and veggies and a fresh made cheesecake I was hoping I could pass off as mine. I picked up a large bouquet of red roses and a rather expensive bottle of wine. I wanted this night to be incredible. But when I got home, everything dropped from my hands at once. The bottle of wine had broken but I could not care. I fell to my knees, glass ripping through my pant legs and my skin. I looked up and saw my beautiful, loving husband hanging in our kitchen.

              After calling the police I tried so hard to stand up. My legs were barely working, and I was slipping on wine and glass shards, but a pain in a place besides my heart felt comforting. I made it to our sons’ room, where I found a short note.

My Dear Leonard,

I am so sorry, but do not worry. I am in no more pain; I am with our boys now. We will wait for you. We love you so much and cannot wait for you to join us.

Love,

Leonard, Miles and Richy

It was Miles and Richards’ handwriting. My heart stopped as I felt a tear slide down my face. But in a second, I felt the tear dry up, I could feel a warm static feeling all over my body. And I heard their voices. “We love you.” I could feel their arms around me. Then it was gone, but I heard their laughter, and to this day I can hear them talk. But not just my Leonard and my children. But my Uncle Richard and Marcus, and my best friends, Jeremy and John.

I do not know when, or how my time to pass will be. At least I am not alone, but I hope it is soon.