by Mary Carter
“No,” Monica said. “She’s my flesh and blood.”
“You don’t even know her,” Joe said. “And she asked you to leave her alone.”
“Because she was abandoned as a child! By my parents. Her own family—”
“She’s a grown woman now.” Monica walked out of the bedroom and headed downstairs. Joe was right at her heels.
“You’re not well, Monica. Cancel San Fran if you have to, but stay here and calm down.” Snookie was hiding behind the couch. Monica knelt down and called his name. He came over, slowly, eyeing her as if he too might get slapped.
“I’m sorry,” Monica said. She picked up Snookie and walked out the door. She’d pack later, when Joe was gone. It was amazing how much a person could change in just seventy-two little hours. She’d stood up to Joe. She’d quit her job. She’d slapped Joe, for God’s sake, not something she approved of but something that fascinated her, as if she had not only discovered she had a twin, but inside she’d found she was a completely different person too. Triplets. Something inside Monica had opened up, and the gap between the life she wanted to live and the one she was actually living widened. It was no longer a crack she had to step over, it was a chasm. Lacey was what had been missing from her life. And now that she knew, she was going to do something about it, she was going to fix it; she wasn’t going to live another day like a broken bookend.
Lacey stood outside the burgeoning shopping complex, awed at how quickly things had progressed. Alan showed her the original pictures; a short while ago, the site was nothing more than an overgrown field where teenagers went to toss their beer cans and cigarette butts. Now it was paved and sprouting a foundation and skeletal structure. Scaffolding rose high into the air, workmen wove in and out of the Genie cranes, shouting orders Lacey couldn’t lip-read from the edge of the fence. Lacey had often fantasized about working in construction, and here she remembered why. The excitement was palpable. And even though Lacey thought America needed another mall like she needed a second head, she still admired the scope of work, the coordination involved, the attention to details and safety and quality—the daily sweat required to make it happen. And Alan was running the show.
She’d been on a roller coaster since Monica left, but no matter what else it was going to do to her, she now knew one thing for certain. Alan was family. Alan had never hurt her, never abandoned her, never really left her. She was the one who had been holding back, the one turning down his marriage proposal, pushing him away. Maybe Monica came into her life for one reason: Wake Lacey up to who her real family was before it was too late.
Lacey pulled out her BlackBerry. Should she warn Alan she was here or just walk inside, throw her arms around him, and tell him she loved him? Maybe she should have waited in his hotel room, her naked body wrapped in cellophane. She’d actually rushed into the store before she left, but all she could find was tinfoil. Instead of sex-on-a-stick, she’d end up looking like a burrito. She’d pull out the kinky stops later; for now she just had to find Alan and tell him she was different now, she was ready for a commitment.
In fact, she should prove it. She should ask him to marry her, right now, in front of all these people. He’d been humiliated when he saw what she’d written about marriage on the flip chart; this was her chance to make it up to him. She needed a ring. Too bad the mall wouldn’t be finished for another six months. She had to have something. Maybe she could make one out of scrap metal—just for now. Then, she would get down on her knees, beg his forgiveness, and ask him to marry her.
First she followed the fence to the nearest opening, then she followed the clouds of dust billowing out of the center of the structure. She walked ahead until she came to what appeared to be an entrance onto the ground floor. She was soon walking past outlines of offices. At the first partition she saw a man standing by a steel work desk. He was a tall, bald man with a long auburn beard. Lacey had met him before. She didn’t know his name; she’d always called him Red Beard.
He was the only one in the office, and he was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at the phone. Only when his lips started moving, and his head remained rooted to the phone, did Lacey realize he must have it on speaker. If hearing people only knew how silly they looked, mouths moving up and down all the time. He noticed her then, standing in the doorway, and how could he not? Between her suitcase and Rookie, she definitely stood out. The high heels, low-cut blouse, and miniskirt probably didn’t hurt either. His eyes lingered on her as he held up his finger, asking her to wait. She set Rookie down and walked closer. She grabbed her pad of paper out of her purse. He pushed a button on the phone and said something to her. She pointed at her ears and shook her head.
She caught “Alan’s girlfriend” on his lips. She nodded. I’m looking for scraps of steel and a welding gun, she wrote. He frowned as he read the letter, then looked at her with raised eyebrows. Lacey smiled and pointed to her ring finger. He pointed back at her.
“You want a ring?” he asked. She shook her head no. She grabbed the pad of paper back.
For Alan, she wrote. I’m going to propose. The man broke into a grin. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them.
Can I tell the guys? he asked.
As long as they don’t tell Alan, Lacey wrote back. He pounded her on the back, headed out of the office, and motioned for her to follow. Rookie jumped into the chair by the desk and curled into a ball of bliss. Lacey tapped the man on the shoulder and pointed at Rookie. He gave her another grin and a thumbs-up. Lacey hurried after him as he strode down the hall.
In the next room, workmen were suspended from makeshift decks, unfazed by the sparks flying out of the ends of their soldering irons. Red Beard picked up a couple of scraps of metal off the floor. He turned and showed her his hands. Alan’s were a little bit smaller, and Lacey pinched together her index finger and thumb to show him this. Suddenly the man whistled and yelled, and before she knew it, three other men were standing around them. He pointed at her and as he talked to them, she caught “Alan’s girlfriend” and “propose.” The men clapped. He then asked them each to hold out their hands so Lacey could pick whose fingers were closest to Alan’s in size. She laughed as she examined their dirty hands; it was like a reverse Cinderella. When she found the one that was the closest, Red Beard measured his finger with a piece of string and then dismissed the men.
He motioned for her to follow him again, and soon he was wrestling a soldering iron out of another man’s hands. The man shut the sparking tool off and lifted his goggles. Red Beard went into charade mode, indicating what Lacey planned on doing, and what he wanted. The man grinned, took the scrap of metal from Red Beard and went to work on it. Within minutes, Lacey had a makeshift ring.
She and Red Beard walked down the hall like two Pied Pipers, for at least ten workmen were following them. She could see Alan at the end of the hall, bent over a table, a pencil sticking out over his ear. He’d never looked sexier. And not only was he a good-looking man, he was a good man. He was her family. She would never need anybody else. Feeling eyes upon him, Alan looked up, and spotted her immediately. She saw confusion in his face, but she also saw exactly what she needed: He was happy to see her. It was her Alan, the one who loved her. He asked her what she was doing there, with a smile on his face. He frowned at the men gathered behind her. “What’s going on?”
Lacey walked right up to him, then got on her knees. She knew her skirt was probably showing a little too much action to the men in back, but she didn’t care. Alan did. He tried to pull her up.
“Floor, dirty.”
“I don’t care.” Lacey held out the ring. “Will you marry me?” Alan reached out and pulled her up. This time, she let him. He was looking behind her. Lacey followed his gaze. The men were whistling and clapping. When she turned around, there were more thumbs-up. Lacey took Alan’s hand and slipped the ring on.
“I was supposed to ask you,” he said.
“Yes or no?” Lacey asked.
“I love you,” Alan said.
“Yes or no?”
“Why did you change your mind?”
“Last chance. Yes or no.”
“Yes,” Alan said. He picked her up and twirled her around. Then he kissed her. Lacey had never been happier in her life. But suddenly, Alan wasn’t looking at her. He was looking over her shoulder.
“Oh my God,” he said. Lacey didn’t have to turn around; the look on his face told her he was seeing double. But of course, she turned around anyway. There, standing in the center of the workmen, tears in her eyes as if she too had just gotten engaged, was Monica. A stab of jealousy hit Lacey so sharp, so unexpectedly, it almost knocked her over. Alan took a step away from her, toward Monica. “Oh my God,” he said again. And it was no wonder. Monica too was wearing high heels, a low-cut blouse, and a miniskirt. Her glasses were off, her hair was feathered like Lacey’s. And under her arm was a wriggling puggle Lacey could only assume was Snookie. My evil twin, Lacey thought as she stared at Monica. And her little dog too.
Chapter 24
Lacey’s first instinct was to attack, but there were way too many people around. Monica’s little fan club. The men looked as if they had abandoned all thoughts of going back to work. They were chatting Monica up and taking unsolicited pictures with their cell phones. Only Rookie was equally horrified; he growled and shook his head at Snookie, as if warning him to either stay back or become his newest squeaky toy. Alan stayed by Lacey’s side, but from the way he kept shifting his gaze from Monica to Lacey, she knew he too was fascinated. She was losing control of the situation. She needed to get Alan out of here. But Alan was already gone, chatting with Monica, head-to-head, mouths moving a mile a minute. She wasn’t used to watching Alan talk without signing; it was like an out-of-body experience. What did their voices sound like? Was Monica’s pretty? With any luck she sounded like a truck driver. Lacey marched over and put her arm around Alan’s waist.
“Let’s go back to your hotel,” she said. “Celebrate. Romantic. Just the two of us.”
“I’m taking you two out to dinner,” Alan said.
“Alan knows of a great Italian restaurant,” Monica said. Lacey understood her surprisingly well, but she looked at Alan as if she didn’t. Alan interpreted.
“What about the dogs?” Lacey said. “We can’t just leave them in the car.”
“We can drop them off at the hotel,” Alan said. “Along with your suitcases.” Suitcases? Lacey only brought one. She looked at Monica. There it was, hiding behind her, an overstuffed bag on wheels.
“Is she going on a trip?” Lacey asked Alan. He laughed, as if she had made a joke.
“She said she’s staying with you,” Alan said. He had a big grin on his face. “It’s perfect,” he said. “I don’t like being away from you; it’s nice to know you’ll have company.” Lacey stared at Monica, and waited for her to set him straight. But Monica just stared back at Lacey with a smile bearing equal portions of guilt and hope. It was surreal, looking at someone with such a familiar face. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, Lacey thought. Who’s the—. She dropped in mid-silent-sentence. What did it matter? She knew nothing about this was, or would ever be, fair.
Back at the motel, Lacey stood on the balcony and gazed down at the kidney-shaped pool. She neither knew nor cared what Alan and Monica were chatting about inside. She found herself imagining Monica leaning over the balcony with her, clearly saw herself give Monica a little shove. Would she hit the water and drown, or splatter all over the concrete?
I’m not evil, Lacey told herself. I’m not. Don’t siblings always want to kill each other? Did this actually mean she loved her sister? No. She didn’t know that woman in there, let alone love her. She didn’t invite her into her life, and she couldn’t believe anyone would have the nerve to pack a suitcase and invade a total stranger’s life. Why was everyone else so thrilled? She was being stalked, her life was being invaded. For all she knew, Alan was in there calling the Today show. Maybe it would just be easier if Lacey threw herself off the balcony. Monica could comfort him, she could fall in love with him, she could marry him. Over her dead body. Monica might have won this round, but she was definitely going to come out the loser. Even if it killed her.
She’s stalking me, Lacey texted Kelly Thayler from the restaurant. She brought a suitcase.
Where are you? Can I come?!!!!!
Lacey shoved her BlackBerry into her purse. That’s all she needed, her other stalker. They sat at the table like normal people, tearing into bread that was going to fill them up before dinner, sipping wine, pretending everything was normal. It wasn’t. Lacey purposefully let Monica order first, resenting the obvious glee Monica showed as if she were relishing the thought that they would order the exact same thing again, regaling Alan with the story of their luncheon, as if a double order of curry chicken salad were some kind of miracle. Whatever Monica ordered, Lacey was going to get the exact opposite. She prayed Monica would order anything but the penne à la vodka. Lacey really, really wanted the penne à la vodka.
“I’ll have the penne à la vodka,” Monica said when Lacey gestured for her to go first. Lacey didn’t dare look at Alan; he knew that’s what she always ordered. She was going to kick him under the table if he said anything. He didn’t, but he did treat her to a look and a big grin. When the waitress looked at Lacey, she pointed to her least favorite item on the menu, a seafood medley with mussels, scallops, and clams. Disgusting, but necessary.
“Mussels, scallops, and clams,” she saw the waitress repeat slowly and clearly, as if repeating the order back to a child.
“Really?” Alan said. “You hate seafood.” It was true, she did, but she hated Monica more.
“I can’t eat anything that won’t come out of its shell,” Monica said. Alan roared with laughter and slapped the table.
“That’s just like her,” he said pointing at Lacey. The waitress, now thoroughly confused, looked at Lacey again. Lacey pointed to the seafood medley again, nodded yes in an exaggerated manner, and waved her away.
“Thank you,” Monica called after the waitress.
“Why were you thanking her?” Lacey asked, using Alan as the interpreter. After all, it was his fault they were here; the least he could do was interpret.
“I was just being polite,” Monica said. “Waiting tables is such a hard job.” She gave Lacey a little smile. Lacey realized with a start that she’d just embarrassed Monica. Is this how it would have been growing up? Would Lacey have been the Black Sheep Twin? The evil doppelganger? An embarrassment to the entire family? She could picture Monica trailing after her, demurely apologizing for her after every outburst. As if she could feel Lacey was thinking bad thoughts about her, Monica excused herself and went to the restroom. I have to pee too, Lacey thought with a surge of resentment. Are we really that much alike? Identical taste buds, identical bladders? She hated the constant comparisons but she couldn’t help it. Why did she have to go by Benjamin Books that day? She wanted to go back in time, back when there was only one of her.
Alan leaned forward. “What is going on with you?”
“What?” Lacey asked.
“You hate seafood, especially anything in a shell, and don’t tell me you don’t.”
“She followed me here. How did she even know I was coming to see you?”
“You didn’t tell her?”
“No, I didn’t tell her.” Mike. She should have known. The traitor. “I told her I never wanted to see her again.”
“Why? She told me about your afternoon together. Lunch. Canoeing. It sounds like a lot of fun.”
“And then I told her to get lost.” Alan pushed back from the table.
“Here we are again,” he said. “You didn’t tell me any of this.”
“I don’t want to talk about her. This is supposed to be a romantic dinner for two. We’re getting married, remember?”
Alan pointed to the restroom.
“Is she the reason you asked me to marry you?”
/> “What?”
“Don’t play games with me. I know you.”
“I don’t want her here. I didn’t ask her here. You invited her to move in with me! A stranger. Without even asking me.” The look on Alan’s face shifted back to neutral. She was coming back.
“Just give her a chance,” Alan said. “She really wants to get to know you.” Monica smiled as she took her seat, but Lacey knew she felt the tension between them. Or was Lacey just assuming Monica felt everything she did? It had taken a month to get back in a good place with Alan. Now Monica was poised to ruin it, make Lacey look like the bad guy, the twin who wouldn’t “play nice.” So that’s what she would do. For now. When they were away from Alan, it would be a whole different ball game. When the waitress set the mound of clams, mussels, and scallops in front of her, Lacey looked at her with her best helpless and confused expression. She held out her hands.
“I can’t eat this,” she said. She pointed at Monica’s dish. “I’ll have that.” The waitress whisked her seafood away with a pitying nod. Lacey picked up her fork, leaned in, and stabbed it into Monica’s plate. Alan gave her a dirty look, but Monica looked as happy as a rejected clam.
Back at the hotel, Rookie and Snookie were standing at opposite sides of the bed, snarling at one another. A shredded pillow lay between them. Monica scooped up Snookie, who continued to snap and growl from her arms.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. Lacey shrugged and then snuck Rookie a treat. At least someone was on her side. Lacey glanced at Monica’s suitcase.
“Did you break up with your boyfriend?” she asked.
“We’re just taking a break,” Monica said.
“Why?” Lacey asked.
“This sounds like a private conversation,” Alan said.
“But you have to interpret,” Lacey said.
“I won’t be there when you two are back in Philly,” Alan said.
“We’re fine,” Monica said. “We spent the whole day without an interpreter, didn’t we, Lacey?” Lacey understood every word she said. She turned to Alan.
