Robert's Mirror

I know I promised not to think about her. I swore an oath, a pledge to remain fixed and glued to the current assignment regardless of how heartbroken I've become. So I'm stuck squared between a steel frame and a reflective mirror staring at a variety of penny loafers during regular store hours.

I catapulted through the wall of dimension into the city. I hear cars zooming past and the occasional horn from a taxi cab. The entrance door to the storefront is large, resembling five moving blades of an old fashioned ceiling fan. It interests me how customers may enter the building without allowing a smidgen of the outdoor breeze to follow them inside.

Shoppers stroll in every direction and my mirror is aimed at their feet. Within hours of my assignment, I've seen enough. Feet, wide, tiny, bunions protruding... pumps, leather sneakers, transparent plastic... I think they call them jellies. I flip flop within the frame and gaze upwards towards the ceiling. Everyone's nostrils are in plain sight among other private body parts. It's inappropriate so I somersault around and accept the reality of this assignment.

Feet. Have you ever really looked at someone's toes? Through the thin mesh of stocking I've seen more than I ever wish to relive. Fungus, hammer toes, and the stench... Ugh! If I were in human form I'd wretch my stomach. It is not a pretty site nor smell.. those human feet.

There are voices all around me, giggles of innocent children just being kids and yet I think of her and her alone... my Lizzy, my one true love. I know I promised Granny I'd come to terms with Elizabeth's disappearance, but I can't help wondering about her last moments as Jeanne Wishgiven. What were her final thoughts, were they of me, of us?

A woman enters the store. If I gaze upwards to the half ball mirror hanging at the ceiling, I manage to match the voice to the face, clothes and shoes. This woman has delicate features, light hair and a petite frame. I am reminded of Lizzy, my Lizzy. My heart explodes with grief and I fight off an outright sob.

"Can I help you?" A sales person asks as he hurries past to the front of the store.

"No one can help me!" I moan as the customer perches herself in a chair and points at three different styles of pumps on the far wall. Her gaze falls to her fingernails as she patiently awaits service.

There is something striking about the customer. Unlike the many women who have entered the store, she has a natural beauty about her. The way she carries herself is with confidence and she emits a sense of class.

I can't help feeling amused as a team of salespeople surround her in an attempt to unload several pairs of the latest trend. I begin to giggle recalling the first time I noticed Lizzy and her mother walking down Main Street near Three Corners on Lake Michigan. Store proprietors waved as they passed the various display windows. Teams of salesmen were praying for them to swerve inside their stores and plunge into shopping. That fateful afternoon was the first glimpse I caught of Elizabeth, the first time in my life I ever felt my heart skip a beat.

The stay at Three Corners was pleasant. I had arrived a few weeks early in preparation for Donovan Winslow and his family's arrival for the wedding. My assignment was to learn the lay of the land and to confirm the Fenmore's social stature within the community. Behind the scenes I interviewed several people including Beatrice, Lizzy's personal maid and Reverend Garrison. It was interesting to learn tidbits about Elizabeth Fenmore and how she had a reputation for being pampered and spoiled.

Mr. Fenmore waited in the automobile gazing at his pocket watch as the two women in his life sauntered down Main Street obviously needing to stretch before the final trek to Lake Michigan. Mrs. Fenmore held Elizabeth's gloved fingertips as they took dainty little steps.

There was something stiff about her mother, almost as if her bones were reinforced from aged wood. Intrigued, I hurried into the crowd three people behind them. My senses began to overflow as a hint of their expensive perfume whisked in my direction. It was a jasmine fragrance, sweet and fresh. "Oh my." I whispered overcome by the favorable scent. Lizzy was absolutely beautiful, her posture was nothing short of noble as she strolled.

There was a silence thick with tension as the women meandered. I could sense a turbulence between them, a rift in the unique relationship between mother and daughter. Mr. Fenmore pulled the car to the corner and he assisted the women into the vehicle. In a fraction of a second I caught a glimpse of the most amazing eyes I had ever seen on a woman. I froze entranced by her, by Donovan's future wife. The moment arrived after many years of living with the Winslow's that I had found something of Donovan's that I wished for as my own. Lizzy was more precious than the trunk full of diamonds that were handed down from generation to generation in his family. All with one glimpse, I was abandoning my loyalties to the Winslow's... all with one heartfelt emotion.

I realized I had to meet Elizabeth. There was something beckoning me to drop all shyness, urging me to go out on a limb for this woman, this lady who I knew would regret her union with Donovan Winslow.

I hitched a ride on a delivery wagon out to the Fenmore's estate. From the rose garden that lined the property, I remained camouflaged by the foliage. I waited for Elizabeth to reveal herself. Hours passed and the insects were aggressive, buzzing about in a swarm. Yellow jackets were bombing my head with relentless effort and yet I held my post.

Sometime near sunset, the French doors opened and Elizabeth darted from the house. She sprinted past and I was reminded of a whisk of fresh air. Her feet were bare and this surprised me, this improper flesh upon sand... improper for a lady of that time. It seemed to be a simmering declaration of her liberty as she reached the shoreline and soon disappeared.

I took off in a frantic sprint to catch up. By the time I approached, she was perched cross legged on the beach, gazing at the romantic dissent of the sun. Copper hues outlined her hair, two gulls began to bicker and Lizzy spoke to them in a scolding tone. I said something to her, something of wit and she turned her gaze towards me. In that moment her eyes gobbled me up and swallowed me whole. In many ways I felt weakened by her charms, but also in a sense, finally alive.

I had always been number two behind Donovan, but in the way her presence gripped me, I realized I was the first man, the only man for such magnificence. I had never considered destiny to be a factor in life's occurrences and yet, heaven and earth moved propelling me forward, propelling me to that exact moment.

I kissed Elizabeth Fenmore, I boldly laid claim to my future. She should have slapped me, I gave her good reason, but somehow the mingling of our souls were in synch. This was it, this was love.

I never lied to Lizzy, but I think she assumed I was from a family similar to hers, a family of privilege. Money never did have any meaning to me. Whatever I earned, I used, what I could not afford, I did without. I wonder even now if Elizabeth would have given me a second glimpse had she known I was wearing borrowed clothes, taken from the huge trunks I hauled across the ocean for Donovan Winslow.

The truth of my relationship with Donovan was that we were friends, friends because I was paid to be his right hand assistant. We were nearly the same age and since both of my parents were in the field of domestics, they were eager to share their trade with me. They sent me abroad to assist Donovan at the ripe old age of 12.

"If you're lucky Robert..." My father had said handing me my satchel as I stepped on board ship. "If you're lucky, the family you meet will keep you a lifetime. It isn't the most glamorous job and often times it plays on your patience, but it's honest work, a job that will show you how the other half lives."

I recall waving my farewell to my parents as my mother brushed her tears with the hem of the apron from her black and white maid's uniform.

That was the last I had seen of my parents. My life had taken a new direction and although I had written often, my parents were not able to read nor write so eventually we lost touch.

I was fortunate in many ways to be paired up with Donovan. Sure he was pompous and arrogant, but what affluent male that age isn't?

In some ways the Winslow's treated me as if I were Donovan's brother. We shared a private tutor for many years and they even paid my tuition to attend the university right along with Donovan. The only thing was, I did not have a choice of a major, but had to accept a mirrored class schedule to Donovan each and every semester. I believe their theory was that I could help their son who always seemed to struggle with his studies and help him I did. For the most part I had twice the amount of homework, mine and his. Donovan was lazy and spent most of his time resting or sipping the finest of French wines. I on the other hand, had to manage double of everything and reword answers so that the professors would not be wise to the arrangement.

Tests were the trickiest to maneuver for Donovan. He would sit and pen correspondence to his parents as I completed the tests in duplicate at a frantic pace. It was always understood that I would intentionally flub two answers per test so that Donovan would maintain a higher grade point average than myself.

Upon graduating with the highest honors, Donovan was rewarded with the north edge of his families property totaling seventy five acres of prime land. This gift included a large abandoned castle, ornate gardens and a tiny lake. I on the other hand, was given one week' vacation which I traveled to London to site see and rest.

Upon my return, Baldwin Winslow sat me down to reassess my responsibilities to his family. He thanked me for assisting his son through the rigors of education. According to Baldwin, I was now obligated to take my place amongst the staff, learning the fine skills necessary to become a first class butler for his only heir.

In several minutes my life came tumbling down as reality struck me cold. I was not family after all, just a means for Donovan to graduate with high honors. I had been used, stripped and discarded like yesterday's scraps.

The one thing I was grateful for was the opportunity for a formal education. Although to my dismay, Baldwin announced that I owed him ten years of service in order to compensate for my educational expenses. It seemed he had me right where he wanted me, penniless and in debt. I had no other choice than to work off what I owed.

After a total renovation of Donovan's castle, the quest for a Mrs. Donovan Winslow became a priority. Again I was pulled away from the tedious and asked to accompany Donovan to various social events where I was forced to mingle with the upper crust throughout the region. It was then I learned what a tremendous bore Donovan was and most cultured women were put off by his obvious love for himself.

Donovan began to loose hope of finding a bride until his parents were introduced to Denita Thorton. It seemed she had family back in the states, a beautiful niece that would jump at the chance at becoming a British socialite. The odd arrangement included a payment of seventy thousand pounds to be presented to the Fenmore's upon the conclusion of the marriage ceremony. This tiny fact was withheld from Donovan and perhaps it may have crushed his over inflated ego.

With every letter that arrived to England, Donovan would scan upon Elizabeth's words making rude comment. No matter what subject Lizzy would touch upon, it was never intelligent enough for his liking. I believe that Donovan was hoping Elizabeth would ask ten thousand questions about his life, which she seldom did. He showed little interest in her world and considered her social stature to be very much beneath him. I concluded that their marriage was doomed to failure. I suppose this knowledge helped to ease my guilt as I stepped in and snatched Lizzy away from a life of despair. On the other hand, had I not stolen what didn't belong to me, Elizabeth Fenmore may have lived a long and prosperous life abroad. Upon her departure she might have earned enough credits to be admitted further into the realm and skipped the menial job of wish-giving. I couldn't help but blame myself for all of it. Without me she would still be around either improving the world for humans or enjoying eternity with all of its perks.

The delicate customer that conjured memories of Lizzy just left with three pairs of new shoes. For the most part, it is difficult to focus on those around me. Difficult because my heart is no longer devoted to work. My hope is to use my future vacations to continue on my search for Lizzy. She must be somewhere and I'm almost certain, she is still in genie form. I feel it in my gut and I believe we will once again meet. I must not give up, I refuse to allow Lucas and his evil team to keep her against her will and so I wait.