The Mirror and the Mask Read Free Page A

as paradoxes. You see your reflection in a mirror—but it isn’t you. You’re separate. Sometimes a mirror is an illusion—it shows you only what you want to see. And with a mask, you can hide behind it, but the real you is still there. I think that’s the way life works. Nothing is ever simple, just what you see on the surface—the mirror’s reflection or the mask.”
    â€œDo you think we all wear masks?”
    â€œPretty much.”
    â€œAll the time?”
    â€œNot every minute. Not with everyone.”
    Jane didn’t disagree. “What did you intend to do with a degree in folklore and mythology?”
    â€œAt the time, I wasn’t thinking that far ahead. I was fascinated that Greek and Roman gods and goddesses could be both good and bad, heroic and flawed. I guess I was hoping that if I studied them, I’d learn something about myself.”
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œThe jury’s still out.”
    The more they talked, the more Jane found herself wanting to know Annie’s story. “How long are you going to stick around looking for your dad?” she asked, standing with her hands on her hips, gazing at the shelf they’d just emptied.
    â€œAs long as the money holds out. I was thinking about hiring a PI, but it would cost too much. I did an Internet search. Everyone who looked halfway decent was priced way out of my range.”
    Jane picked up a case of lychee nuts. “What’s the name of the bar your friend saw your dad at?”
    â€œThat’s just it. She can’t remember, except that it was on West Seventh in St. Paul.”
    â€œThat narrows it down some,” said Jane, feeling a sudden stabbing pain in her right leg. She set the case down and leaned one hand against the wall.
    â€œYou okay?” asked Annie, touching Jane’s shoulder.
    â€œI just need a minute.” The last thing she wanted was for Annie to get the impression she was old and out of shape. Forty-four wasn’t
that
ancient.
    â€œThe thing is,” continued Annie, picking up a sack of sugar, “I can’t leave. Not yet. Not when I feel so close.”
    â€œWhat’s your dad’s name?”
    â€œJohn Archer. I left home right after I graduated from high school. The only time I went back was the year I turned twenty, for my mom’s funeral. I only stayed a couple of days.”
    â€œWhere’s home?”
    â€œTraverse City, Michigan.”
    â€œWhat’d your dad do for a living?”
    Annie set the sack on an empty rack. As she turned around, she tucked a shock of blond hair behind her ear. “He flipped houses. Bought them cheap, fixed them up, and resold them at a profit.”
    â€œAnd you have no idea why he disappeared?”
    â€œNone.”
    If Annie thought Jane was asking too many questions, she didn’t let on. Jane had a reason for asking them. “Your father’s never tried to contact you?”
    â€œI assumed he was dead. But then my friend said she saw him, soI had to come see for myself. Tracy, my girlfriend, and I went to the same high school. She knows what he looks like because she was over at our place all the time. He’s probably changed some, but she seemed positive.”
    â€œWas your mother ill before she died?” asked Jane. The pain in her leg felt a little better. She put some weight on it, just to make sure it was steady, and then picked up the case of lychee nuts and continued on out into the hall.
    Annie followed with another case of lychee nuts. “No, it was a heart attack. Completely unexpected.”
    â€œShe must have been awfully young.”
    â€œForty-one. She didn’t like doctors. My dad said she’d been unusually tired before it happened, and had some bad indigestion, but they both thought it would pass. It was a real shock when she died. Dad took her to the hospital, but it was too late. Her heart was too damaged. I was so angry at