The Stolen Twin

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  “Kit, get your butt up here. You aren’t going to believe this.”

  Brandi’s voice floated down to me, obviously back from her parents.

  Roses. That’s what greeted me when I finally made it up the stairs. They were everywhere, along with their rich, moist, distinctive scent.

  “Brandi, who’s sending you flowers?” I asked, examining the red, yellow and pink blossoms.

  Brandi smirked and winked at me. She still wore her sucking-up-to-Daddy outfit, navy blue dress, pearls, hair pulled back in a French twist. “Not me. You. What did you do with David while I was gone?”

  I stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by roses, my mouth dropping open. “David? David sent these to me?”

  “Unless you got back together with Tommy and didn’t tell me. Yes, I’m pretty sure they’re from David.”

  “Oh, so you didn’t read the card.”

  “Honey, this is one card I thought I better not read.”

  An uneasy sensation snaked its way inside me. Something wasn’t right here.

  “Aren’t you going to look at it?” Brandi waved the card at me with a flourish.

  I took it from her, but didn’t open it. That uneasy sensation slithered, sending out tendrils throughout my body, squeezing my insides until I thought I might burst. I circled the room again. What wasn’t right here?

  “Kit? What’s with you?”

  “Brandi,” I said, my voice taking on this dreamy quality. “How many roses do you think he sent me?”

  Brandi glanced around. “Well, there’s five dozen here and what looks like a half-dozen. How weird? I wonder if the florist ran out of flowers.”

  Five and a half dozen roses. The uneasiness froze inside me, the tendrils breaking into thousands of crystals. Suddenly I knew exactly what was wrong. I tore open the card.

  “Sixty-six roses. What a strange number. What do you think it means?”

  I stared at the card, my fingers like ice. “Not sixty-six. Sixty-five.” I said before I could stop myself.

  Brandi came over and looked over my shoulders. “’Sixty-five roses just for you.’ How sweet, I think. Did you guys do it sixty-five times or something?”

  “I didn’t sleep with him.” I lowered my hands before Brandi could see them shake.

  Brandi laughed. “Yeah, right. And I’m going to be taking a cruise in a great big boat with Leonardo DiCaprio.”

  My hands curled into fists, squeezing the card into pulp. “Brandi, I’m not kidding. I did not sleep with him.” My voice sounded louder and harsher than I wanted it to.

  Brandi gave me an odd look. “If you say so.”

  I took a deep breath. “Yeah, I do. I’m sorry. This is just so weird.”

  Brandi nodded and glanced around again. “Well, maybe this is an extreme reaction to playing hard to get.”

  I let my breath out. “Probably.”

  Brandi caressed one of the pink petals. “If this is what you get when you play hard to get, maybe I should give it a try. Think Chuck would go for it?”

  The front door slammed shut before I could answer. Brandi rolled her eyes. Martha’s heavy footsteps clumped up the stairs.

  “Roses,” she said, and immediately sneezed. “See, what’d I tell you?”

  “Martha, I refuse to accept this rose-allergy thing you have going on,” Brandi said. “It’s the cold. Or maybe a little green-eyed monster is paying you a visit.”

  “Brandi,” I warned.

  “You think I’m jealous?” Martha asked, her voice starting to rise. “Not likely.”

  “I’ll throw out the roses,” I interrupted before Brandi could continue the argument.

  “What?” Brandi gasped, spinning toward me.

  “Look, Martha’s obviously suffering, and I’ll just get rid of them. See? Simple solution.” I put my bag down and started gathering them up.

  Martha looked relieved. “That’d help.”

  Brandi clutched my arm, pink manicured nails digging into my green sweater. “You can’t be serious. You can’t throw out all these roses just because Martha here is claiming to have some ridiculous allergy. He just sent them.”

  “It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

  “If you don’t want them, I’ll put them in my room.”

  “Won’t get rid of the allergy.” Martha sneezed again. Brandi glared at her.

  “See? Can’t put them in a room. Nothing more to do except get rid of them.” I swiveled my head toward Brandi so Martha couldn’t see and mouthed “Tell you later.” I had no idea what I was going to tell her later, but it bought me time to think of something.

  Brandi shrugged. “Fine. Be a rose-killer for all I care. I’m going to go change.”

  “Actually,” Martha called out. “Those roses are already dead. They were dead when the florist cut them.”

  “Whatever.” Brandi flounced out of the room.

  Martha half-smiled at me. “Need help?”

  “No, I can take care of this. You go take some allergy medicine so you’ll feel better.”

  “Okay.” Martha clumped down the stairs.

  It took me two trips, but I threw them all out, vases and all, even the one from two days ago. I wanted no reminders anywhere.

  I couldn’t believe he had done something so crass, especially with what we had shared the other night. I felt so stupid – here, I had been thinking about this bond and feeling close to him, and all he wanted to do was throw it into my face.

  Well, we would see about that.

  He had told me which apartment building he lived in the other night – the tall red and white brick one near the corner of North Main Street. I didn’t know the actual apartment number, but figured I could find it once I was there, even if it meant banging on every door in the building.

  As it turned out, that wasn’t necessary. The apartment had a directory, and I easily found David’s name stuck on with a little piece of tape. A man with a tangled and untidy beard happened to be leaving right when I arrived, so I managed to slip through the security door.

  David lived on the fifth floor, apartment 5D. I ran up the stairs that stank of urine, stale pizza and pot. I was too agitated to wait for the elevator, but I ran too fast and ended up having a coughing fit. I wasted several minutes getting my coughing under control before heading for the apartment.

  It took several minutes of pounding before he appeared. “Kit, how nice to see you.” He wore a dark blue sweater and jeans, and looked cool and collected. I was so angry I could only stand there, glaring and shaking.

  David’s face took on an expression of concern. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

  “Can I come in?” I managed through gritted teeth. I didn’t want to do this in the hall. He held the door open and I pushed my way through.

  “Kit, what’s going on?” He shut the door.

  I whirled around. “Why the hell did you send me sixty-five roses?”

  He looked surprised. “Because I wanted you to know what a good time I had the other night.”

  I started shaking my head. “Bullshit. If that’s what you wanted, you would’ve sent me a dozen, like before. No, you sent me sixty-five roses because you knew that was the fund-raising campaign for Cystic Fibrosis. ‘Sixty-five roses, Cystic Fibrosis.’ Some kid thought that’s what the doctor was saying when he told him he had Cystic Fibrosis, and they named the whole damn fund-raising campaign after that. You knew that.”

  He scratched his head. “Can we sit down and talk about this? I didn’t mean … ”

  I flung my hands in the air. “You didn’t mean what? To tip my roommates off? I told you nobody knew but you. I asked you to keep it a secret. I thought we had a connection here, something built on shared experiences and trust. And you betrayed it! I told you my roommates were from wealthy famili
es. I’m sure they received letters from the Cystic Fibrosis foundation, asking for donations. How could you be so sure they wouldn’t figure it out?”

  He came toward me. “Kit, look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to tip your roommates off. Honest, it never occurred to me that anyone but you and I would know what that meant. I just wanted to let you know that I, too, felt that same bond, and that it didn’t bother me that you had Cystic Fibrosis. I thought it’d be kind of a code between us, you know? So you knew I didn’t care about it.”

  I backed away before he could touch me. “If that’s really what you were trying to do, it was a very bad idea. Someone could have figured it out.” But my voice had started lowering, the anger draining. The way he explained it, it did make a certain amount of sense.

  His voice had become soft, caressing. “I can see now that it was a bad idea. And I’m truly sorry about that. I just wanted you to know how special I think you are. That’s all.”

  I glanced away. His living room was small but immaculate. Nothing like any other guy’s apartment I had been in. But it seemed almost sterile. No posters or photos or CDs scattered around. A small pile of books sat on the coffee table next to a neat stack of mail – the only indication anyone lived here.

  The fury inside me had dissolved, leaving a sort of uneasy ache. I felt empty and exhausted. I turned back to David, catching a whiff of that odd, salty spice scent of his. “Okay. I accept your apology. I better go, I have a lot of studying to do.”

  He shifted to the side, blocking my path to the door. “Look, I’d like to make it up to you. Can I take you to dinner? We can study afterward.”

  All I wanted to do was get away from him. “No, I can’t. I have to attend a couple of meetings tonight, and before I do that I need to get a few things done as well as study,” I lied. “Raincheck?”

  He continued to block my path. “Tomorrow then? I really want to make it up to you.”

  I saw that I wasn’t getting out of his apartment unless I agreed to something, and I was too tired, too confused, to fight him anymore. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

  He smiled, wide and bright and full of teeth. “Great, I’ll see you then.” He went to the door and held it open for me, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek as I went by. I think he may have wanted more but didn’t want to press his luck.

  The door shut behind me with a firm click. As I slunk down the hall, I started to wonder what the hell I had gotten myself into.

  Chapter 8

  “So, how was your date with the Sugar Daddy last night?” Brandi asked, standing by the counter, examining her pale pink nails and pouring coffee at the same time. She had small elegant hands, and the perfect oval of her nails made her fingers appear even more graceful.

  “Fine.” I pushed my toast spread with both butter and peanut butter around my plate. Jezzy watched me intently from her perch in the chair next to me.

  I wasn’t in the best mood this morning. Haunted by the metamorphosed church dream, I hadn’t slept well. I was already tired and still had my long day of classes in front of me.

  David had been charming and attentive. We ate dinner at Lacie’s Café then studied at my favorite coffeehouse, The Student Grind. Afterwards, he walked me home, gave me a gentle kiss on the mouth and left. This morning he sent me an email message from a Yahoo account: “Enjoyed last night. Can’t wait to see you again.” Although I wondered about the Yahoo email – why didn’t he just send it from his university address? – I couldn’t have asked for a more pleasant or polite date. So, why did I still feel a strange sense of unease when I thought of him? And what was up with the eerie church dream I kept having, even more so lately than before?

  Brandi glanced at me from the bottom of her eyelashes. “Fine? That’s more of a parent-friendly description than a date-with-a-man-who-sends-you-dozens-and-dozens-of-roses description.”

  I took one last bite of toast and tossed a piece of crust to the cat. “There’s nothing wrong with the word ‘fine.’ I had a nice time. He seems like a nice guy.” Jezzy delicately sniffed my offering as I placed the chipped, sunflowers on mint background plastic plate in the sink. I think it was Martha’s.

  Brandi raised her eyebrows. “Seems?” she started to say, but was interrupted by the doorbell ringing.

  “Gee, I wonder who that could be? Maybe more flowers?” She winked.

  I sighed. “Can you get it? I’m not dressed yet.”

  Eyeing me, she picked up her mug and sauntered to the door. When she returned, she held a small package with my name on it in big letters. “Guess I was wrong.”

  I turned it over in my hand. “Who left this? It’s too early for the mailman.”

  Brandi shrugged. “It was just sitting on the stoop.”

  In the background I could hear Martha clumping around the apartment. Feeling that same sense of uneasiness creeping over me as I did with the roses, I opened it.

  Inside was a small box, the kind you’d get from a jeweler. Brandi crowded closer, eyes bright, like shiny hard pebbles. The smell of her perfume mingled with the scent of coffee – a strange but not unpleasant combination wafted over me. “Go on. Open it.”

  Still I hesitated. The unease swirled inside me like a tornado.

  “Is this supposed to be some savoring-the-moment thing? What’re you waiting for?”

  Martha chose that moment to clump her way through the kitchen muttering something unintelligible.

  “Good morning,” I said. She sort of waved in my direction.

  I turned back to Brandi’s impatient face, sucked in my breath and snapped open the box.

  Inside, nestled in black satin, was an elegantly constructed rose pin set with diamonds.

  Brandi gasped as she leaned over. “Those are real, sweetie. Take it from a diamond expert. What the hell did you do to him – dress up like a dominatrix and fulfill his S-and-M fantasy?”

  Martha brushed past us on her way out. I barely looked at her, unable to tear my eyes away from the beautifully wrought pin. “So, it’s expensive.”

  “Let me put it to you this way – as far as boyfriend gifts are concerned, you hit the Wheel of Fortune jackpot. Though I wonder about this rose-fetish.”

  I snapped the lid closed. “I have to return it.”

  Brandi gaped at me. “No, you don’t. You never have to return any gift a guy gives you, even if you break up the next day, because it’s a gift.”

  I put the box on the counter. “I’m not interested in gift-getting etiquette 101. I can’t accept something that expensive. We haven’t even slept together yet.”

  Brandi snorted. “Right. Why the protesting? Like I care.”

  I started pacing around the kitchen. “Brandi, I’m serious. This is an insane gift. We’ve known each other less than a week, had exactly two dates and exactly two kisses. Yeah, we’ve had a good time and all that, but we’ve barely reached the roses-and-candy level, much less the expensive-gift level.”

  Brandi sauntered over to the table and slung her black book bag over her shoulder. “Well, if that’s the case, I’d nip this thing in the bud, pun intended. Otherwise, you may end up with an obsessive stalker boyfriend on your hands.”

  The room temperature dropped twenty degrees when she said that. The uneasy feeling twisted violently in my stomach, and I swallowed hard to keep from being sick. “Gee, Brandi, maybe you should teach a class in reassurance, you’re so good at it.”

  Brandi shrugged, swinging her hair over her shoulder. “Hey, if you want sappy platitudes, go talk to Elena. I’m in the business of truth-telling, even if it’s unpleasant. And I think in this case you’d rather hear the truth, wouldn’t you?” She raised her eyebrows at me as she strolled past. As usual, she had a point.

  ***

  In my first class of the day, half of my brain listened to the professor while the other half pondered Brandi’s words. If she was ri
ght, then I had to put a stop to this relationship immediately. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe David hadn’t dated many women and didn’t know what was deemed “acceptable dating behavior.”

  Either way, I needed to have a serious talk with him before things progressed any further. Hopefully after that, I would know what to do.

  My class ended, but my brooding hadn’t. As I walked outside, I heard a familiar voice behind me say, “Good morning, Kit.”

  David? Here? I spun around and saw him standing off to the side, clutching a coffee container and a small bag, wearing a huge smile.

  At first I could only stare, convinced that my deliberating had either plunged me into some sort of hallucinatory nightmare, or conjured him up. David couldn’t really be standing there – he was in computer science. He belonged on the other end of campus.

  “What are you doing here?” I sputtered.

  He came forward and thrust the coffee and bag at me. “I brought you breakfast. Coffee and two chocolate-filled croissants.”

  I took them both, although the idea of sweets in the morning made me nauseous. “David, you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here? How did you know where I’d be?”

  He adjusted his backpack and slid his hand up my arm, hooking his fingers around my elbow. “Here, I’ll walk you to class. It’s in Bacomb Hall, right?”

  I automatically began to walk, although I felt like the edges of reality had started crumbling away. “Yes, but … ”

  “Computers,” he said smugly. “I just found your class schedule on the computer, and since my next class doesn’t start until noon, I thought I’d come over and surprise you.”

  “Well, you certainly accomplished that.”

  He paused for a moment, brushed the hair out of my face and looked into my eyes. “Kind of scary what you can learn about people on the computer.”

  Again he reduced me to simply staring. The way he said it – it almost sounded like a threat. “Yes, it truly is,” I choked out.

  He smiled and resumed walking. “I can show you how to better protect your identity. I’m writing my thesis on it.”