it is, but there’s something wrong with it,’ Martin told him. ‘It’s hard to say what. But it’s not your usual kind of everyday mirror.’
‘It’s a trick mirror,’ said Mr Capelli, trying to lighten up this dire and ominous conversation before Martin started talking about death and hackings and all the other gory topics of conversation that (along with
saraghine alla brace
) invariably gave him nightmares and agonies of indigestion. ‘You look in the mirror and what do you see? You don’t got clothes on.’
‘No, Mr Capelli, it’s nothing like that. I mean, it’s a kind of a trick mirror, but it doesn’t make your clothes disappear or anything like that. It’s – well, when you look at it, you don’t always see what’s really there.’
Mr Capelli said nothing; but waited on Martin to explain; his eyes blinking from time to time like a pelican at San Diego Zoo.
‘The thing is,’ said Martin, ‘if Emilio plays with it, he might start to see things –
people
, maybe, who don’t really exist. And – well – if he sees things – people – stuff that doesn’t exist – it could be kind of –’
He paused. Mr Capelli was staring at him in that same pelicanlike way, as if he believed that his tenant had completely flipped.
Martin added, ‘Dangerous,’ and then gave Mr Capelli an idiotic grin.
Mr Capelli tugged at the bulb of his fleshy nose and thought for a while. Then he said, ‘Martin, I like you. You’ve got a choice. Either that mirror goes, or you go, whichever.’
‘You’re throwing me
out
?’ asked Martin in surprise.
‘Of course not. Just the mirror.’
‘Mr Capelli, I’m not at all sure I can do that.’
‘Why not? Are you crazy? One minute you’re saying it’s dangerous; you see things in it that aren’t there; you’re worried about Emilio; the next minute you’re saying you can’t do that; well, you
can
do that, it’s easy, just do it. Am I asking too much?’
Martin laid his hand on Mr Capelli’s shoulder. Mr Capelli peered at it from very close up. ‘There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with the mirror, Mr Capelli,’ said Martin, and Mr Capelli echoed, ‘Fundamentally.’
‘All I’m saying is, it has this vibe. I don’t know, you can call it what you like. It’s like a visual echo. An echo you can see.’
‘An echo you can see?’ Mr Capelli repeated and Martin could see that he was vexed and tired, and that he didn’t even
want
to understand. Mr Capelli’s answer to everything that he didn’t like, or wasn’t sure of, was to turn his back on it.
‘All right,’ said Martin. ‘Boofuls has come alive. Don’t ask me how. He’s in the mirror, and Emilio has been playing with him, and Emilio has come within an inch of getting inside the mirror, too.’
Mr Capelli stood up. He glanced quickly at Martin, almost casually, then nodded. ‘Mumh-humh,’ he said, and nodded again. Martin watched him with increasing tension.
‘Good night, Martin,’ said Mr Capelli at length, and turned to leave.
‘That’s it? Good night?’
‘All right, a
very
good night. What more do you want?’
‘I just want you to promise me that you won’t let Emilio come up here for a while. I mean, tell him he mustn’t. This whole apartment is strictly no go.’
Mr Capelli said, ‘In the morning, Martin, you make up your mind. That mirror goes, or you go. The first thing I told you when you brought that mirror back here, what did I say? No good is going to come out of it. That was the first thing I said. And now what’s happened? No good has come out of it.’
‘Mr Capelli, it could very well be that there’s a real boy trapped in that mirror.’
‘That’s right and it could very well be that some clever people can train a pig to fly straight into a bacon slicer, and another pig to drive the bacon down to Safeway.’
‘Mr Capelli –’
‘
No!
’ replied Mr Capelli. ‘That mirror goes by tomorrow night, otherwise you go. Now, it’s late, I
‘It’s a trick mirror,’ said Mr Capelli, trying to lighten up this dire and ominous conversation before Martin started talking about death and hackings and all the other gory topics of conversation that (along with
saraghine alla brace
) invariably gave him nightmares and agonies of indigestion. ‘You look in the mirror and what do you see? You don’t got clothes on.’
‘No, Mr Capelli, it’s nothing like that. I mean, it’s a kind of a trick mirror, but it doesn’t make your clothes disappear or anything like that. It’s – well, when you look at it, you don’t always see what’s really there.’
Mr Capelli said nothing; but waited on Martin to explain; his eyes blinking from time to time like a pelican at San Diego Zoo.
‘The thing is,’ said Martin, ‘if Emilio plays with it, he might start to see things –
people
, maybe, who don’t really exist. And – well – if he sees things – people – stuff that doesn’t exist – it could be kind of –’
He paused. Mr Capelli was staring at him in that same pelicanlike way, as if he believed that his tenant had completely flipped.
Martin added, ‘Dangerous,’ and then gave Mr Capelli an idiotic grin.
Mr Capelli tugged at the bulb of his fleshy nose and thought for a while. Then he said, ‘Martin, I like you. You’ve got a choice. Either that mirror goes, or you go, whichever.’
‘You’re throwing me
out
?’ asked Martin in surprise.
‘Of course not. Just the mirror.’
‘Mr Capelli, I’m not at all sure I can do that.’
‘Why not? Are you crazy? One minute you’re saying it’s dangerous; you see things in it that aren’t there; you’re worried about Emilio; the next minute you’re saying you can’t do that; well, you
can
do that, it’s easy, just do it. Am I asking too much?’
Martin laid his hand on Mr Capelli’s shoulder. Mr Capelli peered at it from very close up. ‘There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with the mirror, Mr Capelli,’ said Martin, and Mr Capelli echoed, ‘Fundamentally.’
‘All I’m saying is, it has this vibe. I don’t know, you can call it what you like. It’s like a visual echo. An echo you can see.’
‘An echo you can see?’ Mr Capelli repeated and Martin could see that he was vexed and tired, and that he didn’t even
want
to understand. Mr Capelli’s answer to everything that he didn’t like, or wasn’t sure of, was to turn his back on it.
‘All right,’ said Martin. ‘Boofuls has come alive. Don’t ask me how. He’s in the mirror, and Emilio has been playing with him, and Emilio has come within an inch of getting inside the mirror, too.’
Mr Capelli stood up. He glanced quickly at Martin, almost casually, then nodded. ‘Mumh-humh,’ he said, and nodded again. Martin watched him with increasing tension.
‘Good night, Martin,’ said Mr Capelli at length, and turned to leave.
‘That’s it? Good night?’
‘All right, a
very
good night. What more do you want?’
‘I just want you to promise me that you won’t let Emilio come up here for a while. I mean, tell him he mustn’t. This whole apartment is strictly no go.’
Mr Capelli said, ‘In the morning, Martin, you make up your mind. That mirror goes, or you go. The first thing I told you when you brought that mirror back here, what did I say? No good is going to come out of it. That was the first thing I said. And now what’s happened? No good has come out of it.’
‘Mr Capelli, it could very well be that there’s a real boy trapped in that mirror.’
‘That’s right and it could very well be that some clever people can train a pig to fly straight into a bacon slicer, and another pig to drive the bacon down to Safeway.’
‘Mr Capelli –’
‘
No!
’ replied Mr Capelli. ‘That mirror goes by tomorrow night, otherwise you go. Now, it’s late, I
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