Apartment 2B

by K. Webster

  After the hostess seats us and I order some wine, we look over the menu.

  “Their manicotti is so fucking good,” I tell her. “Oh, and the lasagna is pretty tasty too.”

  “I think I’ll have the manicotti then, since its ‘so fucking good,’” she teases with her dark eyebrow cocked up, tossing an ornery look my way. I want to climb under the table and tell her what else tastes fucking good. She must see the heat in my eyes because she blushes.

  The server brings some wine and takes our order. Sidney looks stunning as she casually sips her wine. She appears innocent and sultry at the same time, which is confusing and sexy as hell.

  “Sidney, is there anything about your childhood that was good? Any happy memories?”

  Her face darkens, and I immediately curse myself for bringing up sensitive subjects, but the desire to know her better wins out. The look of sadness on her face nearly kills me.

  “My father skipped out when I was ten. Of course, I vaguely remember some times when the three of us were happy, but mostly those have been erased from my mind. Momma being Momma filled in those memories with terrible ones. The only thing that made me happy in my miserable life was cooking and when she would allow me to go to the library. That library was my safe haven. There, I could escape and have a normal life. What’s sad is I haven’t been there in weeks. I actually miss it, but I’ve been pleasantly distracted by real-life escapes. Like you.”

  I smile at her. She had the shittiest life, but she somehow just keeps plugging along, putting it further and further in the past.

  “What about you, Lane? What was your favorite memory?”

  I don’t have to think to know the answer.

  “Well, when Liam and I were in the fourth grade, we were on an American Gladiator kick. One day, we got the bright idea to pull the mattress off of my twin bed. Liam was supposed to try to keep me from pushing past. He held the mattress tight and I charged with all of my nine-year-old might. I must have not realized my own strength because I pushed him right through the window. As soon as the glass shattered, I thought I’d killed him. I was horrified. He was fine, just sitting in the dirt outside the window, just as shell-shocked as I was. When Mom came flying in the bedroom to see what the ruckus was about, Liam immediately told her he fell out the window. That was one of the first times he had my back. After that, we always covered for each other. Well, until the end of high school.”

  She was grinning throughout my story, soaking up normal childhood memories, but frowned at the last part.

  “What happened at the end of high school?”

  “Liam got injured at a football game in high school. He took a pretty bad blow that gave him whiplash. His neck was messed up and required some physical therapy. I’m pretty sure that he suffered some brain damage that nobody ever picked up on. After that, he was moody and depressed. He dealt with some pain from the injury that he didn’t fully express to Mom and Dad, because after that, he started using drugs. Football was a thing of the past for Liam. I stopped having his back because I hated what he was doing to himself. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t been so judgmental and had helped him through it. Instead, I ran off and joined the service after high school and left him to deal with it on his own.”

  “Lane, it’s not your fault.”

  Our depressing conversation was interrupted when the server brought us our food. After making sure we were doing okay, she left again. Sidney took a bite of her manicotti and moaned, which of course got my dick’s attention.

  “You like it?”

  “Oh my God, it is so fucking good.”

  “Ha! Told you.”

  We ate and chatted about happier topics. I think she told me about every single movie Patrick Swayze played in. It was hilarious how she told me all the storylines like they were new and not mostly from the ‘80s and ’90s. After we paid, we walked hand in hand to the truck.

  “So what now?” she asks. “Do I get my surprise?”

  I’m not sure how she will handle my surprise.

  “We’re going to take a dance lesson. I’ll be your partner so you won’t have to worry about other people touching you.”

  She grins over at me from her side of the truck. My heart was beating with nervousness, but the look on her face assures me she will be okay with it. When we pull into the parking lot, she nearly jumps out of the truck in a hurry to get inside. I chuckle at how damn cute she is.

  “All right, Lane. Let’s go learn some dirty dancing,” she says, grabbing my hand. When my dick comes to life at the thought of dancing dirty with Sidney, I suddenly realize that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “You guys are picking this up fast,” the instructor praises. Her name is Liv and she’s been eyeballing me since we got here. I’m trying to figure out if I knew her in high school or something. For the life of me, I just can’t place it. “Sidney, darling. I’m going to cut in so you can see how fluid your movements are supposed to be. Just watch.”

  Sidney eagerly steps away to learn more of the dance. Liv just wants to touch me. I can see it in her eyes. It pisses me off that she is taking advantage of Sidney’s naïvety. We assume the starting position and Liv grins at me broadly.

  “You look familiar,” she whispers as we begin moving.

  Liam and I were brought up to be good dancers. Mom taught both of us boys how to dance before prom. She said that it was important for a man to know how to dance. It made him a true gentleman and worthy of a proper lady.

  “I grew up around here.” That’s all I am offering her.

  “But you said your name is Lane. You look just like this guy I dated.”

  “You don’t say,” I say as I dip her. I know exactly where this is going.

  “Yeah. His name was Liam. We had some pretty fun times together.”

  “That was my twin brother. He is deceased now.”

  That shuts her up. Our dance now becomes very uncomfortable as she figures out what to say next. Finally, she mutters an apology and pulls away, successfully handing me back over to Sidney.

  We dance a few more songs without Liv bothering us anymore, which is fine by me. Thankfully Sidney tells me that her feet hurt and she is ready to go. Once we are in the truck, she kicks off her heels in disgust.

  “Remind me never to wear those damn things again. Now I have blisters,” she pouts.

  I chuckle until she suddenly becomes serious, which makes me drop the smile.

  “Lane, what was that lady saying to you?”

  “She dated Liam at one point and thought I looked like him, which I do since he was my twin.”

  She looks down at her hands and wrings them nervously, as if she is afraid to say something. “I want to see,” she says finally.

  “See what?”

  “His grave.”

  For some reason, I feel sick about this. Not because I’ll have to see three headstones of my only family members, but because this will make it real for Sidney. Her delusion will be confirmed. As much as I want her to realize the truth, I also worry how she will react.

  “Are you sure, Sidney?”

  She looks over at me with tears in her eyes and nods. Sighing, I turn the truck around in a parking lot and head toward the cemetery. It’s closed for the night, so I park the truck closest to their gravesites and we get out. As I pull her hand into mine, we step over the small gate and I lead her to their headstones. She looks otherworldly in the moonlight with her pretty black dress and bare feet. Like a dark fairy of the night.

  “Here,” I say, gesturing at where my family now rests.

  She releases my hand and kneels in front of Liam’s headstone. Silent tears stream down her face as her fingers trace the engraving. After a few more tearful moments, she turns to me.

  “How?” she asks, genuinely confused. I feel bad for her. Bad that she has to come to terms with the web she’s been spinning.

  “I told you, Sidney.”

  “But he was real to me. He loved me.”

 
; “It wasn’t real.”

  “Lane. It. Was. Real.”

  This argument is one that we’ll have as long as we know one another. It isn’t enough for me to want to leave her though. I sit down beside her on the grass and grab her hand.

  “No, babe, it wasn’t.”

  She sits quietly for a moment as thoughts swarm in her brain. Suddenly, her eyes flick over to mine and she looks wild with realization.

  “Liam is Patrick.”

  Um, okay? “Babe, I don’t follow.”

  “Lane, listen. Did you see Ghost with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore?”

  Sadly, I nod my head yes. What direction is she taking this now?

  “It would explain why he scared me and was surprised that I reacted. And that first day when he spoke to me, he acted completely shocked that I talked to him.” She is starting to get excited and sits up on her knees. “Also, he never touched me. He so easily respected my boundaries.” Her eyes are shining happily now.

  “No, Sidney. No.”

  As if I hadn’t said anything at all, she continues to proudly explain her theory. “And when he would blow on me, it was always chilly air. I loved that about him, but looking back, it was so unnatural—”

  Cutting her off, I say, “Sidney, you need help.”

  She frowns at me. “Also, he got really freaked out when I came over and wouldn’t let me in the bathroom. Did he die there?”

  My heart skips a beat because that isn’t common knowledge.

  “Yeah. Lucky guess.”

  “He also never ate around me or drank anything.”

  “Sidney, you need help.”

  “And when I mentioned that his life would be better if I weren’t in it, he got pissed and made me take it back.”

  “Sidney, you need help.”

  “He always conveniently ducked out when it was time to meet Tina.”

  “Sidney—”

  “And he never went to work or left the building.”

  “You need—”

  “Oh, and he really hated that movie! The moment it started playing, he flip—”

  “Sidney, stop!”

  Yanking my hand from hers, I stand and stalk toward the truck. I was so fucking stupid to get involved with someone when I knew she had mental issues. This was probably just my fucked-up way of making up for not being there for my own brother’s mental instabilities.

  “Lane, wait!” she calls after me.

  I stop and turn around so quickly that she runs right into me. Grabbing her shoulders, I steady her.

  “Please, Lane. Believe me. Liam helped me. He loved me. Why can’t you jus—”

  And in a moment of fury that I will forever regret, I slap her across the face. Not a hard slap, but one to get her attention. I didn’t mean to. It just happened. The moment my hand struck her delicate flesh, I died a thousand deaths. Betrayal crosses her face, followed quickly by tears.

  “Oh, God. Sidney, no. I am so sorry,” I plead with her, and she becomes a blur as tears fill my own eyes. Her mother abused her, and I am no fucking better.

  Her eyes lose their passion and dull over. What have I done?

  Pop-pop-pop-pop!

  We both jerk our head to the noise. All four of my truck tires have popped. Ignoring them, I reach to touch her cheek, which now sports a bright red handprint.

  “Don’t touch me,” she hisses and steps back when I get close. My heart sinks because now she’s acting like the cornered animzal I first met.

  Frustrated with myself, I pull out my phone to call AAA, only to find that I have no service. What the fuck? I look for Sidney. She’s trekking through the cemetery at full speed towards God only knows what.

  “Sidney! Come back!” Sprinting after her, I eventually catch up to her and hook her tiny waist with one of my long arms. “You can’t go traipsing barefoot through the cemetery at night.”

  “Let go of me!”

  “Where do you think you’re even going anyway? Huh? You’re going the opposite direction from town.”

  “I’m getting far away from you! Now let me go!”

  Instead of letting her go, I spin her around and heave her over my shoulder. She kicks and screams, but I don’t let go.

  “I hate you, Lane!”

  “Too damn bad. It isn’t safe. We’re going to sit in the truck where someone will find us in the morning.”

  By the time we reach the truck, she’s given up the fight. Opening my side, I push her inside. She crawls to the other side away from me, laying her cheek on the glass. Slamming the door shut behind me, I scoot closer to her.

  Sidney, I’m so sorry. I just wanted you to snap out of the trance you were in. Believe me when I say I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

  She looks over at me with the saddest look and my heart aches for her. “It wasn’t a trance. It was real,” she whispers. Turning away from me, she looks back out the window.

  I rest my head on the steering wheel for what seems like ages before I hear her speak again.

  “Believe what you want. He helped me. He protected me. He kept me company. He slept beside me. He saw me naked. He helped me orgasm. HE. LOVED. ME.”

  Her words are all too fucking much. My brother is not a fucking ghost.

  As we sit quietly for another long spell, I feel the temperature dropping a bit outside. The inside of the cab is getting chilly. Sidney has her knees drawn to her chest, tucked under her dress.

  “Come here,” I order. She looks at me and shakes her head no. “You’re cold. I will warm you up.”

  “I don’t get cold. I take icy showers, remember?” As soon as she says it, she shivers.

  “Liar. You just fucking shivered. Now get your ass over here.”

  Defeated, she scoots close to me and I wrap an arm around her. “I don’t understand. I never get cold.” Her pouty voice warms me.

  “I think the more you drop your touching issues, the more your body comes back to life.”

  She seems to contemplate that answer.

  Our hot breathing has managed to fog up the windows. When I look up at the windshield, the breath is knocked out of me. Two sentences have me connecting everything.

  Fix it, Pain. She’s worth it.

  “Did I ever tell you the nickname Liam gave me?” I ask. She shakes her head no and looks up at me. My mind momentarily drifts to a time long ago.

  “You’re such a fucking pain,” he growls at me as he yanks a pillow over his head.

  Ever since the accident on the football field, he’s been different. Going to school is something he hates to do nowadays, and Mom leaves me the task of waking his grumpy ass up.

  “And you’re such a fucking asshole. Now get up, Liam. You’re worrying Mom and Dad. But me, you’re just pissing me the fuck off,” I order.

  He ignores me, so I rip the pillow from his grip and toss it into the hallway. After that, it’s on. Liam is out of the bed in two seconds and tackles my ass to the floor.

  “Get off of me, fucker,” I spit out at him as I try to gain my bearings to no avail. Even though we’re twins, he’s always been slightly bigger and stronger.

  His eyes suddenly sparkle as the Liam I know—my brother—returns. My heart is happy because the distant, brooding Liam is gone momentarily. Since the accident, we never see the real Liam anymore.

  “I’ll get off of you if you say, ‘I’m Lane the Pain,’” he chuckles. He knows I hate that fucking nickname he gave to me when we were kids.

  “Fuck you! Get off of me.”

  “Say it, Pain. Admit you’re Lane the Pain!” he laughs again.

  I’m going nowhere with his heavy ass on top of me.

  But to see him laughing again makes my heart thrum to life. Maybe he’ll come back to us.

  In an effort to keep the moment alive, I concede. “I’m Lane the Pain.”

  He grins in true Liam style and slaps my chest before getting up. “Of course you are.”

  “He thought I was a pain in the ass at times, so since pain rhym
ed with Lane, that became my nickname.” I flick my glance toward the windshield, and she gasps when she sees it. Running my fingers through her smooth hair, I mimic her words from earlier. “He’s Patrick.”

  “It makes sense now,” I tell her as I kiss the top of her head.

  She shivers as I rub my palm up and down her arm. “It always made sense,” she whispers.

  I feel another pang of guilt. I’ll never forgive myself for slapping her.

  “The same message has been presented to me three times now. Once on the shower mirror and once on the laptop. There was also a little poem on the laptop. I figured you had somehow snuck in and done it.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know. I stupidly assumed you might be unstable because of your past. You take ice showers and were afraid to be touched until me. Of course I assumed the worse. I’m an asshole and I can admit that.”

  “And I can agree that you’re an asshole,” she teases although I know she’s upset with me.

  “Come here,” I order.

  She straddles my lap willingly and puts her arms around my neck, nuzzling her face in my hair. I hug her to me, trying without words to convey how sorry I am. After a few minutes, she pulls away to look at me.

  “Where did he go? If he had to leave me like he said, then why is he still hanging around sending messages? It doesn’t make sense,” she says and furrows her brows. It doesn’t make sense at all. I realize, though, that he wants us together. That much is certain.

  “I don’t know, babe.”

  The sadness leaves her face as she stares at me. And in a forgiving move, she leans in and softly kisses my lips. I try not to pressure her, so I let her kiss me at her own pace while I stroke her back. Threading her fingers in my hair, she pulls me closer to her as she kisses me roughly, biting my lip. I groan as I start to harden underneath her. She feels it and grinds herself into me. My hands make their way to the zipper on the back of her dress and slide it down. Dragging them back up, I slowly pull the top of the dress off her shoulders and kiss her collarbone.