Chapter 25 - Loretta’s Mirror
Renee found the mirror in storage.
It had belonged to Loretta.
Oval.
Gold-framed.
Heavy.
Vanessa nearly told her to throw it away.
Then stopped.
“Bring it.”
Amara watched two movers carry it into the apartment.
“You hate that thing.”
“I do.”
“Why keep it?”
Vanessa stood before the mirror.
“When I was your age, Mom used to stand me beside her here.”
Amara came closer.
The glass was old enough to distort edges.
“She’d ask who looked younger.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yes.”
“People actually answered?”
“Adults will answer almost anything if someone laughs first.”
Vanessa touched the frame.
“I used to rehearse compliments for her.”
“What?”
“She would ask what I thought about her outfit before parties.”
“That sounds normal.”
“It would have been.”
Vanessa looked at Amara.
“If the wrong answer didn’t ruin the evening.”
Amara understood.
“She trained you.”
“In a way.”
“But you still made choices.”
“Yes.”
No excuses.
Amara appreciated that.
Vanessa sat on the couch.
“My therapist says understanding why you hurt people is useful only if you don’t turn the explanation into permission.”
“That sounds like something Monica would bill two hundred dollars an hour to say.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Therapy is cheaper.”
They decided to restore the mirror.
Not because it deserved reverence.
Because Vanessa wanted ownership over what it represented.
When the refinisher returned it, the gold frame looked softer.
Less theatrical.
Vanessa hung it in the hallway.
Weeks later, Amara passed it wearing sweatpants and a bonnet.
Vanessa walked behind her.
For a second they appeared together in the glass.
Amara instinctively waited for a joke about resemblance.
Vanessa simply walked past.
That small absence mattered.
One evening, Renee visited.
She stopped before the mirror.
“You kept this?”
Vanessa nodded.
“I thought you hated it.”
“I do.”
Renee looked confused.
Vanessa smiled.
“I’m learning that I don’t have to destroy everything that reminds me of something ugly.”
Renee glanced toward Amara.
“The red dress?”
“Closet.”
“The old letter?”
“Desk.”
“The prom picture?”
Amara looked at her mother.
Vanessa’s expression changed.
Loretta had torn the original photograph.
But Renee had scanned it years earlier.
Vanessa had not known.
Renee opened her phone.
Teenage Vanessa appeared beside Loretta.
Two red outfits.
One unhappy girl.
Vanessa stared for a long time.
Then she held the phone out toward Amara.
“Would you send that to me?”
Renee blinked.
“You want it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vanessa looked at the photograph.
“Because that girl deserved to be remembered accurately.”
Amara felt tears rise.
Vanessa continued.
“Not as dramatic.”
She looked at her daughter.
“Not insecure.”
Another pause.
“Not jealous.”
Amara recognized every accusation Vanessa had used against her after the boutique.
Vanessa whispered, “She was hurt.”
Renee sent the photograph.
Vanessa saved it.
Then she did something nobody expected.
She did not post it.
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She simply kept it.
Some memories, Amara realized, became healthier the moment they stopped needing an audience.
