Black Eyed Susan

by Elizabeth Leiknes

  Calliope got in the driver’s seat, and looked back at Will and me, who were still standing outside the car, wondering what to do next. For a moment, I wondered if the journey was over—if we were all going to go our separate ways—but then she yelled out the window, “What are you two waiting for?”

  Will and I looked at each other, then at Calliope, and we must have looked like we needed direction.

  She waved us into the car. “Get in.” Will got in the passenger’s seat and I got in the back. After a few seconds of silence, she started the car and said, “What do we always do when we need direction?” Then she looked at the radio.

  As I looked at Calliope and Will, I prayed—actually prayed—for a song that would keep us together. I knew I needed to go back to meet my sister, but I didn’t want to leave Cal or Will behind. Calliope turned the dial, and I recognized the last couple seconds of the the Clash’s “Should I Stay or Should I Go.” I didn’t need the Clash to realize that was the question at hand. What I needed was an answer. And the giant DJ in the sky must’ve known I needed one, too, because without any voiceovers, commercials, or dead space, the next song played.

  R&B isn’t my area of musical expertise. It isn’t my favorite genre. But when I heard Al Green singing “Let’s Stay Together,” the heavens opened, buxom gospel-angels clad in silky violet robes sang in a spirited choir, and I knew everything would be all right.

  “See? Things have a way of working themselves out,” Calliope said in response to Al’s sage advice. “Okay, Susan, let’s go steal your sister. After all, there’s no better way to get to know a person than by taking a road trip with her. New Haven’s only a couple hours away … When we get there, I’ve got some business to take care of in the registrar’s office, and some books I need to pick up, plus I should probably go shopping for some new clothes.”

  “How did you know?” I asked. My serious tone hung in the silence. When Calliope looked in the rear-view mirror and saw my eyes, she knew what I was asking. How had she known what was on my list?

  She smiled. “I’m a muse, remember? Muses have a strong intuition. And a strong desire to be sneaky.” She paused to lengthen her grin. “I peeked.”

  “You cheated!” I hollered.

  “Damn straight, I cheated, when you went to the bathroom, and I don’t regret it for one minute,” she laughed.

  No regrets.

  Will smiled, picked up his camcorder, and pointed it at me. “So, tell me, Susan Spector, now that you’re not dying, or being electrocuted, or being chased by hairy Italian men, do you think you have time to go on a real date with a dazzling Prince Charming?”

  “Sure.” I took a deep breath and prepared for my close-up. “Where on earth will we find him?” I said. “I’ve been searching, but all I keep seeing is some jackass behind a camera lens.”

  He laughed, and then just as the script called for, he delivered the perfect line. “This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  “Friendship?” I said, pretending to be angry. “Does that mean we can’t have sex again?”

  Calliope shook her head and said, “Too much information,” while she drove us toward the sun, which was preparing to retire.

  Moisture, light, and circumstance must have mingled in exactly the correct ratios, at exactly the right moment, because as we drove down a back road, finding our own destined path toward my sister’s house, thousands of light rays found their path—a double-rainbow hanging in the misty horizon. Against the hazy backdrop of a sky, the two rainbows emerged radiant, but one was far more powerful than the other. The primary bow was clear, bright, and worthy of imitation, so it was doing its job. The secondary bow, in line with science’s consistent and unfaltering rules, appeared weaker, a diluted version of the stronger original.

  Two internal reflections—that’s the important part.

  Two reflections emanating from one sky, one soul. Two reflections. One reflection is real, original; the other an altered but justified version of the other.

  “Look, two rainbows.” Calliope pointed out the window.

  Will squinted. “I think there’s just one. I only see one.”

  “There are two. Look closer,” Calliope told Will. Then she said to me, “That’s really rare, isn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  The three of us raced toward the unreachable arc in the sky, the connection between our world and another, and as I looked at a full spectrum of colors for once in my life, I finally realized why there were so many songs about rainbows.

  Rainbows are a lot like life.

  They both change depending on the vantage point.

  They both emerge strongest after a little rain.

  They both dangle pots of gold as their ultimate ending.

  They both provide the perfect myth—illusive, unsolvable, beautiful.

  But indescribable.

  We followed the rainbow to where it disappeared behind a cloud, right above my sister’s house. By now, there was an old Subaru parked in her driveway, and my pulse raced, knowing I was seconds away from meeting her.

  Calliope and Will gave me a bit of a nudge when we got out of the car, and I made my way toward her front door. Just as I was about to knock, the door opened, as if she’d felt my presence, and suddenly, we stood face to face. You’d think seeing your twin sister would be like looking into a mirror, but it wasn’t crystal clear—more like looking into a window and seeing bits and pieces of your reflection, mixed with someone who looks a lot like you.

  Her long blonde hair flowed in waves, except for one braid, interwoven with several beads, by her left ear. Tucked behind her other ear was a peacock feather. And there seemed to be strange, unexpected treasures everywhere I looked. On her middle finger was a large moonstone ring, and around her neck was a rainbow pendant. She wore a long skirt, Birkenstocks, and a T-shirt that featured one word and one very ambiguous piece of punctuation—“Life …”

  I expected her to be startled, or at least a little anxious about seeing me suddenly at her door, but instead, her voice was pleasant and calm. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.”

  Calliope and Will stared at me, prompting me to say something. I took a deep breath and offered her my hand. “I’m Susan. Your twin sister.”

  She bypassed my hand, hugged me, and then touched my face. As she examined me, I noticed our one physical difference. Her eyes were both the same: light and full of hope. As she stared at my dark eye, she frowned a little, as if she’d seen something she didn’t want to see. But she quickly resumed her smile and invited us all in.

  As I sat down next to her amidst soft new age music and wafting incense, I wondered if she’d talk in an airy, ethereal way, like you’d expect a Shaman healer to talk, but she sounded surprisingly normal. She smiled. “I’d say you’re beautiful, but that would be conceited.”

  Calliope and Will looked back and forth at the two of us, but they waited for me to do the talking.

  Something about her begged for honesty and made me want to be straightforward, so I skipped the small talk and asked the question that was on my mind. “I found your letters, the ones you sent to Ruby …” I paused. “To our mother. And you said you couldn’t save me, but I’m fine, I’m saved, and—”

  She gently put her finger over my mouth and shook her head. “Each day we are here, each day you are here, is a gift, and sometimes we’re challenged, forced to see the fragility of life, learning to live, really live, each day.” She took my hand in hers. “So when it’s our time to go, we don’t have regrets.” When she looked into my eyes, it was as if she knew something I didn’t. “And knowing how many days you have left is not your burden.”

  No, I thought, seeing my reflection in her eyes. It is your burden.

  At that moment, I remembered a story I’d once read about a man who tried to avoid his fate by running from Death. He’d sighed with relief when he’d succeeded, only to find out that in the process of trying to escape Death, he’d run right into it.


  And I now thought, What a waste of time, succumbing to the fear of one’s death. What a mistake, focusing on death instead of life.

  As if we were the only two people in the room, I looked at her and asked the difficult question. “So, what do I do now?”

  Rainbow Warrior, without thinking, said, “Put one foot in front of the other … and live.”

  Calliope and Will, oblivious to whatever darkness my sister saw lurking in my future, exhibited the same sense of exhilaration as when we began our journey together. Calliope whispered to me, “What’s her name? We need to formally invite her.”

  I looked to my sister for clarification. “Is it Rainbow Warrior, or just Rainbow?”

  “My friends call me Rain.” She smiled. “But my sister can call me whatever she wants.”

  “I like Rainbow,” I said. I figured I’d had enough rain for awhile. “So … Rainbow, how would you like to—”

  “I’d love to,” she said before I had a chance to finish. “Where are we going?”

  I looked at her as if she was supposed to know, but I could see her otherworldly knowledge was patchy and incomplete, like a puzzle with missing pieces. “Oh, I don’t know, to get Cal a new life, get Will to admit I’m the best girlfriend he’s ever had—”

  “We’re dating?” he asked with a smirk.

  I paused before I continued, and when I said, “Maybe go see our mother?” my sister’s eyes moistened.

  The four of us left together, Cal and Will in the front, Rainbow and I in the back. Ten minutes into our trip, Calliope slowed the car a little as we drove past a sight too remarkable to miss. We glanced out the window at a patch of land nestled between the road and a far-off meadow. Exploding out of the topsoil were hundreds, maybe thousands, of black-eyed Susans. Some were tall and willowy, others were short and stout, but all of them had something in common: They were hardy, relentless, unwilling to wither without a fight.

  And then, as it often did at significant moments in my life, a song began to play in my mind. It was the perfect song to begin the first day of the rest of my life. Track one on my future’s soundtrack started like this:

  Why are there so many songs about rainbows,

  and what’s on the other side?

  Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection.

  So “someday” had arrived. “Someday” was today. The rainbow connection wasn’t a place. It was a state of mind.

  And then the melody, in the key of C, reminded me exactly who I was, and who we were. Rainbow was the song itself; Will, the lover; Cal, the dreamer; and me—Susan Iris Spector—a little of everything.

  About Elizabeth Leiknes

  Elizabeth Leiknes spent her childhood obsessed with tornadoes, rainbows, and what might be on the other side.

  She wrote Black-Eyed Susan while listening to the musical stylings of Donna Summer, Bruce Springsteen, and the Willie Nelson album “The Rainbow Connection.” She has a secret soundtrack running in her head 24-7, and her bucket list includes traveling cross-country using random songs on the radio to guide the way.

  Writing funny and great novels would be really cool if she didn’t have a full-time job. And two kids. And a husband. And a mortgage. And horrible map-reading skills.

  And, like this book’s protagonist, she can’t decide if she’s dreamer or just plain ambivalent … or whatever.