Free Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold by Regina Doman Page A

glanced around the dim hallway uneasily. She didn’t like this house, as upscale as it was. At least she had managed to come during a time when Mr. Fairston was relatively alone. She didn’t want to meet—
    At the base of the staircase was a huge mirror, trimmed in stained glass flowers, and dragonflies. Its vast glassy surface had the smoky gray look of an antique. After coming down the steps, she couldn’t help stopping to look at her reflection, and saw a girl with a pale face and unevenly-cut soot-black hair. Whose eyes were still red. I look haunted, she thought. Not beautiful. Not any more. Surely no one would still think I was beautiful.
    “This has been a looking-glass summer,” her sister had said flippantly, referring to the play she was in. “I feel like it’s taken over my life.”
    Yes, that was how she felt—as though she had vanished through a looking-glass into a mirror-image world which seemed the same as normal life, but where everything was backwards. Where she wasn’t even sure who she was any longer. She didn’t even think she looked the same.
    Blanche has been replaced by a fugitive from justice, a girl who’s too scared to tell others her own name.
    She paused, as though she had heard something close to her, and stared into the depths of the mirror. Once again, she felt it—the sense of a malignant presence studying her. As though the mirror were alive, with a personality—a—
    Just another doorway into madness , she thought, and pulled her eyes away. Her imagination had become her enemy lately, and she hurried to the door and let herself out.
    II
    After the morning class was done, Leon had stopped by the vestibule to see Nora, but there was no sign of her.
    “Hey, where’s Nora?” he called to Brother Herman, who was busy planning the renovation and repairs on the church.
    Brother Herman held up a piece of sketch paper to the light and said, “Hm? Nora? She left some time ago. She said she had an errand to run and would be back soon.”
    “Oh,” Leon said, and shrugged aside his suspicions. Why shouldn’t she run an errand if she needs to? he scolded himself. Brother George was sweeping the aisles with a broom, and looked over his shoulder at Leon. But seeing Leon’s noncommittal expression, he turned away.
    Leon’s attention was distracted by a knock on the friary door. He started towards it, but Brother Matt, who was on porter duty, emerged from the refectory and got to the door first.
    At the door was a tall, agitated black woman in a short denim skirt, holding a kid by each hand. Her scowl changed to relief when the friars opened the door, and she burst into a torrent of Jamaican patois mixed with English. Matt held up his hands with a confused smile.
    “Hold on—let me get someone who can help you—Le—! Oh! Here you are,” Matt started to bellow as Leon elbowed him aside.
    “Yeah, you need the expert here—Aay, Marisol! Wha a gwan ?” Leon queried, hitching up his rope belt. “Aay Donovan! Aay Jacky!” The kids grinned and started reaching for the dangling knots and the rosary beads.
    Marisol yanked them back firmly with a sharp word. “ Nu bodda di priest! Dress back! Mi granmadda a visit, an shi need fi catch one flight tomorrow, but di taxi-man too tief! —”
    Leon listened attentively. “Her mom needs a ride to the airport,” he relayed to Father Bernard, who had come out of the classroom. “They can’t afford the taxi.” The kids were reaching for his rosary again. “It’s all right,” he assured their mother, who barked, “ Mi seh no touch it !”
    “What time does she need to go?” Father Bernard asked, and looked at the woman.
    “ Wha times yuh need fi leave ya ?” Brother Leon queried.
    “Tomorrow. Two o’clock,” she said.
    “I think someone can do it,” Father Bernard said, glancing at the novices. “How about you two take her tomorrow?”
    “Sure,” Brother Leon said, glancing at Matt, who hesitated.
    “Yes,” he said at last.