The Stolen Twin

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  I quit fiddling with my hair. “Brandi, what’s up?”

  She blew a stream of smoke out of the window. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Brandi, you don’t smoke unless you’re drunk or there’s something wrong. I’m not egotistical enough to think my problems would upset you that much. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I’m the one who should be smoking.”

  Brandi half-smiled and held out her cigarette pack. I waved my hand in refusal. “What gives?”

  She sighed and turned to the window again. “Chuck asked Violet to marry him.”

  “What? Where’d you hear that?”

  Inhaling a mouthful of smoke, she flashed me that half-smile again. “From the little boyfriend-stealing witch herself.”

  “Maybe she’s lying.”

  She cocked her head. “Got that rock she’s showing off from somewhere. And believe me, it ain’t no prize out of a Cracker Jack box.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Wow.”

  “Tell me about it. He doesn’t love her, I know he doesn’t. He loves me. Why he just can’t … ” Her voice broke. Bending her head, she focused all her attention on tapping the ash off her cigarette. A sliver of sunlight caught the blond in her hair, making it sparkle.

  “Brandi, I’m so sorry.”

  She shrugged. “Win some, lose some. That bitch couldn’t wait to rub it in, though.” She shook her head. “This ruins everything.”

  “Why? You’ll find someone else. Not much doubt there.”

  She snorted. “When? I’m supposed to graduate in May. It’s already November. There’s no way I’m going to find someone before graduation.”

  “Then find someone after graduation.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s a plan. Where? At my nonexistent job?”

  I stared at her, shocked at the words coming out of her mouth, the bitterness in her voice. I knew she was looking for a suitable husband, but this sounded like a conversation I might have had with Clarissa.

  “Getting a job is generally an acceptable plan after one graduates from college. Even for women. You may not have heard this, but women can have all sorts of careers nowadays. They no longer have to rely on a man to support them.”

  “Kit, you don’t get it. Careers are all well and good for women with a passion to do something, but I don’t have a driving passion. I’m a psych major, what the hell kind of job am I gonna get? Some low-level executive somewhere or maybe even a secretary? If those jobs even exist anymore.” She lit another cigarette. “Maybe I’ll just continue in school, become a psychologist. Daddy’d get a kick out of that, having a shrink in the family. He’s been making jokes about that since I told him my major.”

  “I’m seeing a whole other side of you I never dreamed existed.” I leaned back in my chair, folded my arms.

  Brandi turned to me. “What are you going to do after graduation? You’re in the same boat I am.”

  “Hey, I have a double major, English and psychology. I’ll thank you to remember that.”

  “Yeah, double of nothing still equals nothing.” She cocked her head. “So, what’re you going to do?”

  I shrugged. “You know me, never like to make plans. Besides, May’s a long way off. I suspect I’ll muddle through somehow.”

  “Yeah, you really don’t like to make plans. Kit, I don’t get you. Here you were dating the star quarterback. Even if he didn’t get picked up by the NFL, he probably could’ve gotten a comfy job at his father’s business. And you break up with him. You were set, and you gave it up. Why?”

  I stood up. “Not all of us look at men as potential meal tickets.”

  Brandi gazed back out the window. “Whatever.”

  Chapter 13

  A loud bang startled me and I spilled my coffee all over the white paper placemat.

  I turned around to see an embarrassed guy with a bad haircut picking up his books. He grinned sheepishly, not making eye contact with anyone. I went back to my own mess, mopping up the coffee with a bunch of paper napkins.

  After the strange conversation with Brandi yesterday, I had gone to my bedroom intending to study. Instead, I found myself first prowling the room, then the apartment, gazing at the windows, the doors, the locks. Wondering if David was out there, lurking behind a tree or a bush, watching, waiting. Wondering how easy it would be for him to break in. Could I nail the windows shut? Would that even work?

  While pacing, my eyes fell on the jeweler’s box still sitting on my dresser. I needed to return it immediately. Even having it in the room made me uncomfortable. Visions of him having bugged the box to keep tabs on all my movements swam in my head. Finally I stuffed it in my sock drawer, covering it well.

  Somewhere in the middle of that long paranoid night, I remembered my mother had given me two self-defense items before my freshman year: an obnoxious noisemaker and pepper spray. I dug them out of the closet and studied them. Pull out the pin and the noisemaker shrieked a dreadful high-pitched piercing sound. Stopping it required putting the pin back in – not as easy as it sounded. I remember trying it once; the sound bordered on painful, and made my hands shake.

  Of the two, the obnoxious noisemaker comforted me more, and I ended up sleeping with it in my hand. I figured if nothing else, it would wake up both my roommates and our neighbors, instantly. Somebody would call the police. I made a mental note to carry both items on me from then on.

  But even the noisemaker couldn’t provide me a decent night’s sleep. I slept fitfully, waking at the slightest sound. Convinced I would open my eyes and find David looming over me, grinning, explaining how he just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought he would stop by and see how I was doing … I didn’t mind, did I?

  Nothing quieted my mind – not sleep, not waking more exhausted than when I went to bed, not even my yoga exercises. I went through the motions, but my mind kept jumping about like a skittish rabbit. No wonder I spilled my coffee. I was surprised I hadn’t spilled more than that.

  I finished cleaning up, then pushed my cup over to the edge of the table for a refill. Since I didn’t feel safe at my apartment, I decided to spend the day in public surrounded by people, starting with breakfast at Marty’s Deli. David wouldn’t be able to do much in front of witnesses. Plus it was Friday. That meant no classes, so no David popping up unexpectedly.

  I couldn’t believe how much David had contaminated my life. Every aspect had been infected. I couldn’t even check email anymore. And forget school. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t focus on my studies. What’s more, I didn’t seem to care. Somehow, the fate of my education paled in comparison to dealing with a mad stalker, not to mention the weird sister thing. Still, I kept giving it the old college try. Deep down, I didn’t want to fail.

  The waitress refilled my cup and took my half-eaten breakfast away. I pulled my books closer, trying to concentrate, but instead found myself jumping at every little noise or movement. A girl with short spiky blond hair walking to the bathroom, a couple of scruffy graduate students wearing unkempt clothes demanding more coffee, the squeak of the door opening. I kept twisting in my seat, convinced I was being watched. I could feel them – eyes watching me, analyzing me, memorizing me. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see them, I knew they were there.

  Finally I left and headed to the Union. Still, the eyes followed me. I hid in the biggest booth I could find. It didn’t matter. The eyes continued to watch me. Whenever I left my table, whether to get something to drink or go to the bathroom, I would feel the eyes burning into me. When I returned, something would have changed. Maybe there would be a different page open in my notebook, or a book upside down, or a pen on the other side of the table.

  I vacillated between fear and anger the entire day. Fear that David may actually be there – anger that I was letting him control me, control my life. I refused to run scared from this man. I had spent my life f
ighting death and I wouldn’t allow some jerk to dictate what I did and where I went. He was the asshole here, not me. I shouldn’t be the one punished, the one to have my life turned inside out and upside down and everything else. This was his problem, not mine. I should quit letting him make it mine.

  But then I would return to my seat and find my cup in a different place, and the fear would take over, rising up and grabbing me by the throat.

  At one point, I thought I saw the woman who called herself Cat standing at the back of the Union – almost hidden by the arches, face covered by shadow. I tried going after her, but before I even stood up, she had vanished. I got the feeling she had been watching me, but that didn’t make any sense. She talked to me at the party, why wouldn’t she talk to me now? I was being paranoid.

  No matter what I told myself, I couldn’t stop scrutinizing every corner, sure I would find the source of those eyes somewhere. I couldn’t stop jerking at every movement, every noise. Finally I gave up on the Union and headed for home. Maybe the apartment would be better now, especially if my roommates happened to be home. Worth a shot.

  The afternoon had melted into dusk – the shadows deepening, lengthening. The wind picked up, blowing eerily through the naked trees. I walked faster, berating myself for misjudging the time of day so badly. How could I have let the daylight slip away like this?

  Night crept forward. Stealthy. Relentlessly. It covered the earth with its inky cape, giving madmen the advantage of hiding in its dark folds.

  Enough of this. I had always liked night. I wouldn’t let David ruin this for me as well.

  I turned right on Jefferson, then left on Lincoln. As I trotted down these side streets, I noticed fewer and fewer people around. But that didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t that late. Besides people lived here. Students lived here. Where was everyone?

  Then I heard it.

  Footsteps. Behind me. Soft and determined. I whirled around, a scream caught in my throat.

  No one was there.

  I must have imagined it. That was all. I forced myself to turn around, to resume trotting. I wanted to get home and out of the cold as soon as possible anyway.

  It was so quiet. Even the wind had died down. My breath came out in short, choppy bursts – agonizingly loud in the stillness. I coughed a couple of times. Explosions. My footsteps sounded muffled, dull, against the sidewalk. Anyone could hear me coming. Anyone …

  That noise again. Footsteps. Behind me.

  I spun around. No one there. Again. My chest tightened, my breath came out in gasps. This is all in your head, I told myself. Stop being so paranoid.

  I could feel my airwaves start to shrink. No, I would not have an asthma attack now. I only had a couple of blocks to go. I could do this.

  The footsteps. Louder now. Closer. This time I didn’t bother turning around. I ran. My breath rasped in my throat. Coughs bubbled up. Just a little farther.

  I rounded the corner. A streetlight clicked on in front of me. I jumped, a small scream escaping from my throat. Now my breathing had taken on that familiar wheezing sound. I coughed. Running had made everything worse. I needed my inhaler.

  Slowing to a trot, I fumbled for my purse and dug inside it.

  I couldn’t find it.

  Oh no. My chest tightened even more, pain constricting my airwaves, my cough deepening. I stopped, pawing through my purse, keeping one eye behind me, waiting for my unknown pursuer to show himself.

  The inhaler wasn’t there.

  Starting to sob, I tore off my backpack and searched it. No inhaler anywhere.

  My wheezing grew louder, more frantic. My gasps turned harsh, violent. Where was my inhaler? I always had it, always. I must have had it today. Desperately, I mentally backtracked through my day. Did I have it earlier? Yes, yes. I pulled it out instead of my wallet to pay for a latte at the Union. At least I think that happened today. No, I wouldn’t second guess myself. I had it today. I must have accidentally dropped it or it must have fallen out …

  Or someone took it.

  I froze, although my hands still dug uselessly through my backpack. Footsteps. Louder. Coming toward me.

  I snatched my backpack and started to run, although I could barely breathe anymore. Every gasp was agony. But I had no choice. I wouldn’t let him catch me.

  One more block. There. My apartment. Finally. Thank God. Sobbing and choking, I ran toward it, not seeing the person in front of me until I crashed into him.

  Both of us fell. I would have screamed had I any breath left.

  “Kit? My God, what’s happening to you?” It was Brad, Elena’s boyfriend. I almost cried in my relief.

  “Asthma … attack … lost … inhaler,” I managed to gasp out between coughs and wheezes. The sidewalk was freezing beneath my jeans.

  I don’t know if he understood me or not, but he definitely grasped the seriousness of the situation. As I coughed and wheezed and choked, he retrieved our backpacks and dragged me to my feet. He wrapped one arm around me and we staggered to the apartment. Somehow he found my keys and got the door open. The sound of Marilyn Manson greeted us. Martha’s music. Brad steered me to the bathroom.

  Choking, I collapsed to the floor in front of the cabinet, clawing through extra toilet paper and tampons. God, where was it? Did someone take this one to? Blind, sheer panic had just about engulfed me when my fingers brushed against my spare inhaler. Oh thank God.

  Brad tore the packaging off – my hands were shaking too violently – and held the inhaler to my lips. His brow was furrowed, eyes narrowed.

  “Thanks,” I said when I could speak.

  He waved it away, trying to be casual but still radiating concern. “Glad to be of service. I had no idea these attacks could get so bad.”

  “Usually they don’t. I catch them in time. But I lost my inhaler today and didn’t notice it until I was walking home. Bad timing.”

  “I guess.” He stood up. “If you’re gonna be okay, I better get going.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, thanks for playing the white knight. Hey, is Elena around?”

  He backed away. “Oh, no. I was just picking something up for her. Gonna be at the party later?”

  I gave him the thumbs up sign. He smiled and left. Exhausted, I sucked on my inhaler one more time, then stretched out on the bathroom floor. It felt so good to breathe. I just wanted to stay here for a few moments, enjoying the act of taking deep breaths. I was so tired I was almost numb, my brain a big, out-of-focus mush. But I could breathe.

  I think I actually fell asleep there on the floor, my relief so complete. When I became aware of my surroundings again, Brandi towered over me, staring at me with an amused expression on her face.

  “Interesting place for a nap. Are we going to party tonight?”

  I blinked a couple of times, more refreshed than I thought possible after what just happened. “Hell, yes.”

  Chapter 14

  “About time you guys showed.” Elena thrust a plastic cup at me. The stereo blared the current flavor-of-the-week song and we had to shout to be heard.

  I swallowed nearly half of my first beer in one gulp. “I have been so ready for this.”

  “Yeah, Brad told me about your attack today. My God, that’s some serious asthma you have. I’d say you qualify as having a week from hell.”

  “And where’s my set of kitchen knives to go with that?”

  Elena grinned. She had piled most of her copper curls on top of her head, but a few strands had broken free to frame her flushed face. Her ivory-colored sweater made her eyes seem more gray than green.

  Sipping my beer, I nodded my head in Brad’s general direction. “How’s it going?”

  Elena looked away. “Fine.” She kept her voice casual, but I could see her jaw muscle tighten.

  I changed the subject. “Heard Violet’s engaged.” I regretted the w
ords the moment they were out of my mouth, sure Elena didn’t want to talk about engagements, but she seemed to embrace the topic.

  “Yeah. Poor Brandi.” She blew her hair out of her eyes, shaking her head. “And Violet’s such a bitch about it. I mean, she got him, why does she have to parade it in front of her?”

  “Details, details. I only heard a bit from Brandi while she smoked almost an entire pack. And, let’s head toward the keg.”

  “I guess.” Elena looked pointedly at my now almost-empty glass. But obliging as always, she filled me in on the details while I filled up on beer.

  A strong arm wrapped around me from behind. “Kit, where’ve you been? I’ve been worried.” Tommy’s warm breath against my ear, his muscular chest pressed against my back.

  He brushed his chin, covered with faint stubble, against my neck, shooting hot and cold tingles through me at the same time. For a second I allowed myself to lean against him, absorb his strength, his confidence. But it was all an illusion. It could never last. I pulled away.

  “I’ve been right here,” I said. Reluctantly he let me go, his fingers lightly brushing my back, sending more delicious chills throughout my body. I took another step away.

  “Did that guy really attack you in the stairwell of MRB? After you left me?” His expression was incredulous.

  “Maybe ‘attack’ is too strong of a word,” I said hesitantly, seeing murder creep into his eyes. That’s all I needed, to have him and his football buddies charge off into the night to beat the crap out of David and end up suspended.

  He didn’t appear to believe me. “That’s the word you used in the Union.”

  “I was trying to make a point.”

  “If he didn’t attack you, why’d you have to make a point?”

  Good question.

  “Well, he came on pretty strong,” I said weakly.

  “Kit, what did he do?” He looked exasperated.

  “Well, he started yelling, then he kind of grabbed me and shook me … a little.”