The Mirror Part 2: From the Inside
But Bill Anderson is not a finished character. Deciding between a return to writing, or to continue his pursuit of teaching, he is at a crossroads. On the last day of class he asks whom among his students will read for pleasure during summer break. He sees the transformation in Charlie as he is the only student to raise his hand, a reversal from the shy boy who refused to participate on the first day of class. Sometimes getting through to just one student is all the substance a teacher needs to see a calling through to the end. Bill decides to continue teaching, and not wanting to lose what he has with Charlie, asks if he can continue to give him books next year, even though Charlie will no longer be in his class. Even as a work in progress himself, Bill is able to give Charlie the framework needed to begin his own journey of self-discovery as a type of inheritance that is passed down from one to another. Charlie reaches a point in which he begins to pass along this inheritance to others, and we bear witness to the inception of this in Patrick.
From the very beginning, Charlie sees Patrick and Brad. Patrick had befriended him first — the football game, the toast, the wallflower line — but what grows between them becomes the first relationship in which Charlie does the seeing too. Charlie leans on Patrick to help him become a better person, and in time becomes the one Patrick leans on for the same reason. It is a reciprocity that defines their relationship.
That reciprocity first shows itself at Secret Santa. Patrick truly sees Charlie — every good writer needs a suit, and his gift was like a crucial puzzle piece added, so that what was once fuzzy is now a clear picture of Charlie as a writer. Charlie had pulled Patrick’s name too, and the delight in Patrick’s eyes at how much Charlie understood him was the beginning of what they would become. Then Charlie gives everyone a gift, and each in turn marvels at how well Charlie knows them — he has been paying everyone the quality of attention no one pays him — and at the perfectness of the gift. Each recipient feels seen. This is Charlie as giver, the inheritance flowing gently out of him.
The costly version comes later. When Brad’s cruelty puts Patrick in danger, Charlie is the one who saves him. And when the breakup breaks Patrick, Charlie becomes the crutch — the late-night driving, the drinking, the kiss that isn’t romantic but is a man in collapse reaching for the nearest stable presence, and Charlie letting him. Patrick sees Charlie as someone strong enough to be leaned on. That is its own kind of being seen — being trusted with another person’s collapse.
Charlie has become extraordinary at seeing and giving — and at never once claiming a place in the room for himself. He gives perfect gifts and asks for nothing. He holds Patrick up and disappears into the holding. And that — the giving that erases the giver — is exactly what Sam will refuse to accept.
Sam begins classes immediately after graduation, and there is one last gathering on the night before her departure. Alone after all have left, Sam tells Charlie — in her bedroom — about the conversation with the man who cheated on her. Driving away, she just felt so small — Patrick’s words. She shows the bond she has built with her stepbrother. Over and over, he has tried to make her see the pattern of men in her life. They make her small. Patrick has been trying to give her a mirror. “Why do I and everyone I love pick people who treat us like we’re nothing?” She finally sees the pattern. Sober, and without judgment, Charlie tells her the answer.
We accept the love we think we deserve.
Sometimes the thing we need most is elusive, especially if it shows us a truth we are not ready to receive. We fight it — sometimes without knowing we’re fighting, sometimes openly. Showing our true selves, the mirror is the most elusive. When we refuse to pick it up and look at it, we need someone to hold it where it can be seen. Patrick has been trying to show her. Don’t let them make you small. For Sam, it takes Charlie — she instantly sees.
Charlie thinks the wisdom he has learned is to help the ones he loves. He didn’t see Bill try to show him his own mirror. But Sam sees more than just her reflection — she sees that the giving erases the giver. And she turns the mirror back on Charlie. “Then why didn’t you ever ask me out?” He can no longer be elusive. “I didn’t think you wanted that.” Sam presses and asks, “Well, what did you want?” Still fighting the mirror, he says that he just wants her to be happy. Sam knows Charlie — she sees him. The incredible attention to detail. Giving without asking for anything in return. Holding up Patrick when he fell. Performing care without ever claiming a place in the room. She refuses to allow this to continue and applies the final weight to crumble the wall Charlie has been building in front of the mirror. “You can’t just sit there and put everybody’s lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. I don’t want to be somebody’s crush. I want people to like the real me.”
“I know I’m quiet, and I know I should speak more, but if you knew the things that were in my head most of the time, you’d know what it really meant. How much we are alike. And how we’ve been through the same things. And you’re not small. You’re beautiful.”
Having access to Charlie’s writing, we see the interior. This is the first time he speaks his interior into existence. Instead of standing on the outside looking in, Charlie claims his place in the room — next to Sam. The work that Bill began finally bore fruit. Bill gave it to Charlie, who then gave it to Sam. She needed Charlie to see it, and then gave it back to Charlie. And he needed Sam.
I am no stranger to mirrors — the glass reflects the face pressed against it. Standing at the glass for so long, I know why they needed each other — the door opens from the inside.