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I stared into the small mirror hung above my dresser. A small, rectangular mirror hung in the corner of my bedroom for as long as I could remember. I had never bothered to remember the mirror’s story, but I guess it had been there, talking and advising for as long as I could remember.
The mirror always knew what I needed and when to tell me. I had a feeling I had been using it for years, and I had a drive to respect it too.
“I wonder what my mother’s face looks like,” I thought to myself. “I’ll have to go and ask you one day.”
I put my hands on the mirror, stroking its smooth surface. I had always thought the mirror knew what I needed and when to tell me. It was always right. It was always there when I needed it.
Then came the day when it wasn’t, and I was left questioning what it wanted from me.
“You are to find an orphan child and adopt them,” it said. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to leave home.”
I had just turned 13, and I never really thought much about adoption. I thought it was unfair to give up a child like that. On the other hand, I always wanted to have a brother or sister and I thought that this was a great opportunity to do that.
I was too young to adopt – but I did it anyway. I got a nanny for the time being and set off to find a child.
After a long search and a lot of pain, I found my child.
Tom was 10 years old, born and bred in an orphanage. He suffered all sorts of abhorrent things at the hands of some disgusting people but he always looked up to the top of his bunk and dreamed.
I knew it was him when I found him. I didn’t know he wasn’t an orphan but it was still him.
“Here,” I said, dropping a letter on his cot. “Take this.”
He picked it up and opened it. He looked at me with wide eyes and a big smile. This was his ticket out of here.
He told me his story, but in a way that made me want to hear more. I was fascinated.
He came back with me that night, and we settled in the car. He told me everything the whole way home. I found out his entire life story, and he found out that I was rich. He had never felt so free in his life.
“Here,” I said, handing him a small bag with a handwritten note from my mother. It had been with me since I was born. “This is for you.”
“It’s from your mother,” I said.
I watched as he read the letter eagerly – as eagerly as I as. He hadn’t got any of the sort in years and he couldn’t believe that I would leave him something. He couldn’t wait to meet her after hearing all my story.
He read the note and was shocked to hear who it was addressed to.
“To Tom,” he read aloud. “It’s from your father.”
He started to tear up, and I patted his shoulder reassuringly.”It’s ok,” I said. “He died when you were young, didn’t you say?”
He nodded, and then went back to reading.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I was in an orphanage too, but I always had my dad, and now you will too.” This made him promise me to leave everything to me when he was older.
We settled in that car, and I let Tom talk for hours. He told me all about his life, his hopes, his dreams. I loved listening to him and felt like he was just my brother.
“Do I have to leave again?” he asked.
“Oh!” I was nearly in tears. “Of course you have to stay! I want you to be my brother.”
“Wow,” he said. “I didn’t even know that.”
“I didn’t think you would,” I replied. “Come on. What do you think of my mirror?” He smiled widely and excitedly at it. Then he turned around to me and said, “This is the best day of my life.”
“Really?” I said. “What about the day you had ice cream?”
“No!” he blurted. “That was the day I met you!”
“Really?” I said. “I’ll get you some now, if you want.”
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s too much.”
“We can share it,” I replied. “Don’t worry about it.”
We drove away that night, but Tom couldn’t sleep, and neither could I.
I tried to calm him down, but then I couldn’t sleep either. I woke up one morning and found out the news.
“Your father tried to kill me,” I said. “Don’t ask.”
I went to Tom and told him. He was sighing heavily.
“It’s alright,” he said. “I have a lot to deal with. I’ve got to talk to my father.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered. “This will be my chance. He did this, you know.”
“Are you sure?” I asked again.
“Yeah,” he answered. “I am. I can’t believe he would do this. I never thought he would. He was always my father.”
“You know what?” I said. “I think he did it because he loves you.”
“You can’t say that!” he exclaimed. “It’s not true! He’s ill!”
“He did it, just like he did with me,” I replied. “And look. You’re is here and you’re all right, so maybe he did it to help you.”