Whenever Abigail brushed her hair, he could see the demon in the mirror.
They’d shared the apartment for as long as he could remember. Just him and Abby. Most of the time, they stayed in their apartment.
The first time he’d seen the demon standing behind Abby had been…Christ, he couldn’t remember how long ago it’d been. But it’d been standing right behind her shoulder. It had red eyes, of course. It was a demon, after all. Abigail hadn’t seen it. She’d just run her comb through her beautiful hair. Swish. Swish. Swish.
“Abby! Somethin’s behind you.”
She’d stared in the mirror. “Lou, there’s nothing there.”
He’d looked again. Nothing. He’d looked behind her. Nothing. There wasn’t anything to see. Just his toothbrush—paste ready for him to use—and his wife. His beautiful wife.
He’d kissed the back of her neck. She’d giggled as his lips brushed her skin. “I love you, Abby,” he’d whispered to her.
“I love you too, Lou,” she’d whispered, turning. “Get your teeth brushed. We’re going to the park to meet with Cynthia.”
He’d taken another good look at her beautiful face in the mirror. Her eyes had peered through crow’s feet, her upper lip dented from a car accident when she was just a mother of one. When they’d only had one to look after. The scar was a reminder, every day, of what he’d lost.
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Ballroom Dancing: 1:00-3:00, September 27. Bring a partner and comfortable shoes, and be ready to have fun!
The piano player plinked away in the dining room’s corner. Lou squeezed his wife’s hand. She’d worn a dress—not fancy- but one she still looked just stunning in. He wasn’t interested in dressing up, not for something like practicing dancing, but he’d worn a button-up shirt and slacks. Abby wanted him to dance with her, which was enough reason for him to show up.
But he didn’t have to like all the eyes on him. And on Abigail. Not just their friends either, but the demon in the mirror.
She led him out into the cleared floor. The building’s staff had moved the tables—even Lou’s card group’s favorite spot. They’d stopped playing the last few weeks, but Lou hoped they’d pick up again soon. He missed John and…and…dammit, what was his name? The other guy, who told stories.
He leaned against Abby’s head and whispered, “Who do I play cards with?”
“Dave, John, and Carl,” Abigail said, looking into his eyes. “You didn’t want to go last week, so I didn’t remind you this week, but Dave swung by yesterday to ask how you were doing. You were in the shower.”
“Oh. What’d you tell him?” Lou didn’t think he’d ever not want to play cards with the guys, but Abby might be right. “Did you tell him about the demon?”
“Lou, what demon are you talking about?” The music started again, and she moved his hand to the small of her back, pressing in against his chest as they spun in slow circles.
“I didn’t tell you? I thought I told you in the bathroom. There’s a demon that keeps following you around in the mirrors. It keeps getting closer, but you don’t need to be afraid, Abigail. I know it’s there, and I’m going to find a way to keep it away from you.”
He felt her stiffen in his arms. He stiffened too. How hadn’t he told Abby about the demon? Why hadn’t he told Abby about the demon?
“Lou, if it’s mirrors that are a problem, we’ll figure something out. I’ll call Doctor Stephens today, and we’ll see what he can do for you, okay?”
Lou thought about it. Was making the demon go away with medicine the same as actually stopping it? Abigail seemed to think so. And what the hell? Now that she knew it was in the mirrors, she could start protecting herself from it even if she couldn’t see it.
“Alright, babe. If you think it’ll work, I’ll try it. But if it doesn’t work, I’m going to protect you from that demon.”
"I know, Lou. You’ve always taken care of me, though. After the car crash, you didn’t leave the hospital for a month, remember? Now I’m going to take care of you, alright?”
“Alright,” Lou said. It wasn’t alright. But Abby’s brow had wrinkled the way it always did before she started crying, and as scared of the demon as Lou was, he was more afraid of making Abigail cry.
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“Wonderful. Now, shut up and dance with me, you big fool.”
And so he did. They spun slowly around the dining hall as the piano softly plinked away in the corner. And Lou tried not to notice the pair of red eyes in the full-wall mirror. Watching. Always watching.
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“...man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Lou had to hand it to the young man. He’d picked one hell of a venue to get married at, even if it wasn’t a church. As they kissed, the autumn colors rippled in the breeze behind Cynthia and her brand-new husband. They’d picked a mountain lodge somewhere in…Virginia or Vermont or somewhere…in October. The colors contrasted with Cynthia’s white dress—still not the style he’d have chosen for her, but he could see how it made her glow.
As they parted and the wedding ended, the photographer started snapping pictures of the happy newlyweds. After a dozen photos of them and the wedding party, Cynthia called Lou and Abigail. “Mom, Dad, come on! It’s picture time, so we can remember this forever!”
Lou stood up from his seat. He’d hobbled down the aisle to give his daughter away. Not that she’d have cared whether he approved of the wedding or not, but the young man was a good match for Cynthia, and they’d really hit it off. He and Abigail stood on either side of the bride and groom, smiling into the photographer’s camera.
Just before the flashbulb went off, Lou saw them in the lens.
Two red eyes. They were foggy, but they were there.
“Alright, that one was no good. Make sure we’re all smiling, okay? One…two…three!”
“Sorry,” Lou whispered to Cynthia. “I saw something I didn’t think I’d see, and it…reminded me of something bad.”
“It’s…okay, Dad?” Cynthia didn’t look upset. She just looked confused. The same eyebrow shape as Abby and the same caring eyes. “The reception’s starting. Try to have a good time, okay?”
“You got it, baby girl,” Lou grinned. He wandered off toward the lodge. He’d checked it over the day before, and sure, the rooms all had mirrors in the bathrooms, but there weren’t any in the whole hall. It’d be safe. She’d be safe. He could relax as long as the camera didn’t get too close.
He grabbed some hors d'oeuvres from one of the caterers—jalapeno poppers and fruit kebabs—and snacked up a little. Then the music started playing. A slow song, perfect for ballroom dancing. Abby sat down next to him. “Are you ready?” She asked.
“For what?”
She looked at him, mouth just a touch agape. “We talked about it on the way up. Daniel’s going to dance with Cynthia first—”
“So that’s his name!” He’d been wondering who the kind young man marrying his daughter was.
“—And then you dance with her second. It’s why we’ve been practicing at home.”
“Oh.” That explained a lot, actually. Lou shrugged. Abigail would want him to do his best if he was supposed to dance with Cynthia. And he would.
He’d always done his best for his family. After the car wreck, he’d held it together for a year while Abby recovered. He’d kept it together even during the funeral, been her rock. And they’d visited their first daughter’s grave as much as she’d needed to, even though it killed him every time. They’d waited a decade for the twins, and every day of that wait, in their silent house, had been torture. But he’d done his best for her. And for himself.
“Are you crying, Lou?”
Was he crying? He reached up to touch his eyes. Yep. He sure was.
“I’m just happy. We finally did it. The kids are all married, with lives of their own. We were pretty good parents when it came down to it, weren’t we?”
“Yes, we were,” Lou saw the pain flash across Abigail’s face. It hadn’t ever gone away.
They watched as Cynthia and the fine young man in the tuxedo danced. Around and around they went. And then the music stopped. “Your turn,” Abigail said.
“Alright. Here goes nothing.” Lou stood up, leaving his cane behind, and walked onto the dance floor. He put his hands right where Abby’d shown him, and the music started up again. They danced, swaying back and forth and turning in a slow circle.
“I’m proud of you, baby girl,” Lou said. “He’s a good guy.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Cynthia said. She looked ready to say more, but a pair of red eyes flashed in the side of Lou’s vision.
He flailed out with his hand and hit something—demon or camera? He wasn’t sure which.
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Lou sat in his armchair. The TV silently flashed as he watched the news. Boys were killing each other in some sand-covered country far away, and the president was giving another speech. He wasn’t even sure who the president was anymore. Somehow, a lot of that had stopped mattering.
Abby rolled over in the other room. Lou looked over his shoulder to make sure she was okay, then went back to staring at the TV in the dark. Abby hadn’t talked to him the whole way home, except once. To ask if he was taking the medicine Doctor Stephens had prescribed. “Of course I’m taking them,” he’d said, “you’re handing them to me and watching.”
He hadn’t been, though. The demon faded when he did. But it didn’t go away; the pills made him sweaty and stiff everywhere. So he’d been hiding them under his tongue and spitting them out later. He’d been hiding all his medication under his tongue and spitting them out later.
He smiled bitterly. They were under the bed right now, in a big pile.
If he had to choose between seeing his enemy and being unable to, he’d prefer to see the two crimson eyes locked in a glare, staring at his wife.
But he could also choose to do more than that. Much, much more.
He took a deep breath and pushed himself out of his La-Z-Boy. Then he walked to the bathroom and glared right back into the mirror. Right in the demon’s eyes. “I’ve never been a killer, even during the War,” Lou explained. He hefted his cane in one hand. “But you’re threatening my family.”
He smashed his cane into the mirror over and over, ignoring the shards of glass that flew back and cut his face. He kept beating its curved handle against the glass until Abby ran in. He was still hitting it when two building employees grabbed him and dragged him out of the bathroom.