by Portia Moore
I ring the doorbell again. I notice myself sort of dancing, trying to calm my nerves and channel my adrenaline. I ring the bell twice in a row and knock frantically. The composure I had managed to muster earlier is starting to dissolve.
“Maybe no one’s home,” I tell myself and turn to head back down the stairs, but I hear the door open behind me. I stop in my tracks, almost afraid to turn around.
“Can I help you?”
His voice stops me immediately. I don’t even have to turn around to see that it’s him. I grab the railing to keep myself from falling over.
“Cal,” I say so softly that I’m not sure he can hear me.
I turn around and my eyes water. I walk toward him slowly, feeling as if I’m going to wake up any second. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him. When I reach him, he still looks the same, only his eyes are almost all green, gray intermingled with the dominant green hue. I slowly move my hand to touch his face, even though it’s shaking uncontrollably.
“It’s you.” I can’t wait another second to be near him, and I jump into his arms. It’s been so long since I’ve touched him, too long. All of the questions I have don’t even seem important right now, just that he’s here. “I’ve missed you so much.”
I can’t stop myself from crying. I look at him, waiting for him to say something, but I realize he looks speechless, almost shocked, and I notice his arms aren’t around me.
“Chris, who is this?” I look past him to see a tall blond woman looking at us strangely.
“Chris?” I say, confused. “Chris. His name isn’t Chris!” My anger starts to replace the initial euphoria of seeing him, as I remember what brought me here in the first place.
She frowns at me then looks at him. “Who is this?”
“I-I don’t know!” he answers the blonde.
“Who am I? Who are you?” I ask defensively. Then I realize what he just said. My jaw drops in disbelief. I turn my attention on him. “What?”
“I think you have me confused with someone else,” he says, staring at me strangely.
My heart drops to join my jaw on the ground.
“She just started crying when she saw me,” he explains to the woman behind him. He seems more concerned with her than with me.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, confused and angry.
“She doesn’t seem to have you confused!” the woman tells him angrily, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Cal, what the hell are you trying to pull?” My skin heats up; my anger and impatience are about to boil over.
“My name is Chris,” he says, stepping away from me.
What is going on?
“Look, who are you?” the woman asks impatiently.
“I’m his wife; that’s who I am!” I say angrily. “Who the hell are you?”
She frowns at me, then she breaks into a laugh. “Oh, I see. This is a joke. Good one, Chris, you almost had me for a minute, but you know I can see right through your pranks.” She pats him on the chest.
“Does it look like I’m joking?” I tell her frantically, the sting of unshed tears forming behind my eyes.
She stops laughing. I look Cal in the face, and he’s staring at me as if he has no idea who I am.
“Cal, tell her!” I yell at him, desperately trying not to cry in frustration. This can’t be happening!
“My name isn’t Cal!” His voice rises in a panic.
“Chris, who is she!” the woman asks him again angrily, the idea of this being a prank now out the window.
“Jenna, I’ve never seen this woman before in my life!” he tries to tell her pleadingly.
“You asshole!” I scream, pushing him.
How can this not be Cal! It’s him! It is! It’s his voice! His face! I have the same feeling I have when I’m near him… almost. And I can feel it so much now since I’ve been deprived of it for so long…
“You don’t know who I am now?” I shout angrily as tears stream down my cheeks. “Well, who gave me this?” I pull the ring out of my pocket and throw it at him.
The woman scrambles after the ring and inspects it. “Chris, this is a wedding ring!” she shouts, thrusting it in his face.
“I’ve never seen that before in my life! I’ve never seen her in my life!” he yells, pointing at me as if I’m a stranger. He’s in a clear state of panic, almost matching my own.
“Chris, don’t lie to me!” she screams at him.
“She doesn’t even know my name! She’s crazy!” he yells back at the woman.
She looks at me, trying to determine who the liar in this is. His facial expression softens, and he moves toward her, taking her hand.
“Jenna, I swear to you. I have no idea what she’s talking about,” he pleads more calmly.
I laugh hysterically. I’m about to vomit. I have to be dreaming. This is a nightmare; this can’t be happening!
“Who the hell is she to you? This is why you left? Is this who you left me for!” I say through my tears, snatching his arm.
“He’s my fiancé!” she snarls at me.
I laugh again, covering my face as I step back from the couple. I shake my head in disbelief, consciously chuckling. I have to laugh because if I don’t, I’m going to fucking explode. I feel myself boiling, and finally, I spill over.
“How the hell can he marry you when he’s still married to me?” I shout, gripping my head. My chest is so tight, and my head is pounding.
“I don’t even know you. Who are you? How do you know me?” he asks me angrily.
“All of this time, all of this time you’ve been lying to me and now… now you act as if you don’t even know who I am!” I cry hysterically. “You swore to me this wasn’t about another woman. You fucking asshole!”
This son of a bitch doesn’t deserve anything from me. I turn and stomp down the steps toward my car.
“I want a divorce!” I shout over my shoulder. “I never want to see you again! Don’t you ever come near me or Caylen again! I’ll send your shit through Dexter. I want it all out of my house!”
“How does she know Dexter? How the hell does she know Dexter, Chris?” I hear the woman yell.
“I don’t know, Jenna, this has to be a joke!” he says through panicked laughter.
Joke? I turn back around and head up the stairs. “Joke! I’m a joke? You think ruining my life was a fucking joke?” I push and hit him with all the energy I can muster, and he tries to restrain me.
“Get your hands off of him!” Jenna screams, attempting to tug me away from Cal.
She has a firm grip on my arm. My anger is in complete control, and I push her back violently, one of my hands landing directly on her face, and she loses her balance. She looks surprised, and a second later she rushes back toward me. If she wants a fight, she picked the right day for it! Cal jumps in the middle of us, juggling me on one side and restraining her on the other.
I start to feel hot and my vision becomes blurry. How could I believe him after all of these years? He never loved me. This woman in front of him, who he so desperately wants to believe him… he loves her.
A man comes out of the house. He looks bewildered by all the chaos. “What’s going on here?”
“This psycho attacked us!” the blonde yells, finally settling down in Cal’s arm.
“This has nothing to do with you!” I catch my breath, trying to compose myself at her ridiculous accusation. If anyone is crazy, it’s them! “This was between me and my husband!”
“What?” the older man asks in confusion.
“Tell her, Dad. She doesn’t believe me!” I hear Cal say.
The rest of what he says becomes a drone as I’m overcome by dizziness. I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t deal with this anymore. I feel like Jerry Springer is going to walk out onto the porch at any moment. I start to head back to my car, but my legs feel weak and everything begins to spin around me and…
I open my eyes and my vision is blurred at first, but things slowly come into focu
s. I touch my temples; my head is still pounding as if someone is beating me on the head with a hammer.
I look around and see that I’m in a den. The warm fireplace in front of me is glowing brightly. I look toward the window and see that it’s completely dark outside except for the glowing porch lamp. And as I look through the clear glass, I begin to realize that the events from earlier weren’t a dream, that I haven’t imagined them.
I try to stand, but my knees feel wobbly, resulting in a quick return to my sitting position. I see my purse sitting on the table in front of me. I wonder how I got in here. I look toward the door and realize now’s my chance to make a break for it, to get out of this horrible situation I’ve thrown myself into, but I know the answers I need are in this house. I never thought things would go like this. Never in a million years did I ever think I would almost fight another woman over the man I loved, especially one who was claiming to not even know me.
Engaged. How could I have been so stupid? All of his words, his promises, were lies, every single last one of them, and still what hurts the most is the way he acted… as if he didn’t know me. It was like I meant absolutely nothing to him. And what tears me up inside… about the way he acted… he did it so well…
Why go through this whole scheme? Why not just divorce me, or be honest with me and tell me he was in love with someone else? Why did he come to see Caylen? Why did he feed her all of his lies about missing me? He has to be a psychopath or a con; Hillary was right. That can’t be it though. If he is, how will I ever explain this to my daughter? How could he have an entire life with me and have a life here? How is it possible for him to live two lives? How can he own a penthouse in Chicago and live on a farm in Madison? The land is vast, but… it’s just not… him. But then again, I guess I don’t know him. I’m more confused than I was this morning, when I knew absolutely nothing.
“You’re awake.”
A soft voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I look up to see a middle-aged red-haired woman smiling so warmly at me that I instantly feel as if I know her.
“William. She’s up, honey,” she calls toward the kitchen. She walks cautiously toward me and offers me a steaming cup of tea.
I look at her cautiously, wanting to know who she is.
“You need to drink something,” she urges me with a smile.
I take the cup and sip it slowly. William—I now recognize the man from the picture in the paper—comes through the door and examines me, warily standing beside the woman. The man’s presence, though non-threatening, is colder than the woman’s. His expression is set in a frown, but even with his hard demeanor, his handsomeness shines through. He has to be in his late forties but still has a full head of light brown hair and sea-blue eyes.
I put the tea on the table in front of me. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. The man sighs, almost in frustration, and sits in a big chair across from me. He clasps his hands together and looks at the woman. She stands beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder. They look at me as if they know more than I do, which is very intimidating, since I have no idea who they are.
“You’re very beautiful,” the woman says in a sullen tone.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, realizing what I must look like, and beautiful is not it. I quickly adjust my shirt and comb my fingers through my hair.
“You don’t know who we are.” It comes out as a statement more than a question.
I nod. She smiles slightly and looks at the man next to her, and he frowns to himself. I watch both of them; they seem to be as uncomfortable as I am. I slide my hands across my lap and sigh.
“I saw your picture in the paper with Cal,” I say softly, my eyes falling on the man from earlier.
“When you and Chris won the pie eating contest, honey.” She smiles softly at her husband.
I feel my mouth frown. “Why do you keep calling him Chris?” I want some answers, and I feel the exigency of the situation beginning to implode inside me. When she doesn’t answer, the little calmness I have is slowly slips away. “Who are you? What is going on?”
The couple looks at each other before responding.
“I’m Gwen Scott, and this is my husband, William,” the woman explains quickly. “We’re Chris’s parents.”
I stand up again. If one more person calls him Chris, I’m going to lose it. “I want to talk to Cal. I want to talk to him right now!” My voice is rising shakily.
“That’s not possible, honey,” the woman says calmly.
I pace in front of the couch angrily. “Does he not want to see me? The damage has already been done! I just—he owes me an explanation!” I start toward the doorway of the room, determined to find him if I have to search every room in this house myself.
“Lauren, please calm down,” Mrs. Scott pleads with me.
I stop walking and turn to look at her. “You know my name?”
Her expression is trying to hide some pain as she gives me a pitiful look before looking back at her husband.
He stands up beside her. “We know who you are. You’re Cal’s wife.” He sighs, folding his arms.
His wife looks at me almost sympathetically.
“Cal.” It feels so good to have someone here say his name. I was starting to feel as if I was in the twilight zone. “So he told you about me? Then why does he act like he doesn’t know me? Is it because of that woman out there? I’m sorry, I don’t know who… he never mentioned you. He… he…” I feel myself choking up. This is too much. Way too much and I barely know anything.
“He doesn’t know who you are,” the woman says, walking closer toward me.
“What?” I clutch my purse to my chest and look at her skeptically.
“The person you saw earlier wasn’t Cal,” her husband tells me.
“I don’t understand… no, that was Cal. I know it. It has to be,” I say, finding myself in need of sitting down once again.
“No. It wasn’t,” she says, taking a seat beside me.
I search her eyes to see if she’s joking. Her expression is soft and compassionate. I don’t understand. He looked like Cal, he sounded like Cal.
“Are you telling me that… is he Cal’s brother? He’s Cal’s twin?” I ask, thinking back to Angela’s idea. In fact, it would make sense. That would explain why he didn’t know me, why he looked at me as if he’d never seen me before in his life. Cal never mentioned having a twin brother, but then, he didn’t mention a lot of things.
Her husband’s eyebrows rise. “Yes.”
Mrs. Scott frowns at him. “William, no. No more lies. She deserves to know the truth,” she scolds her husband softly, making her husband frown at her.
“She’s not going to understand,” he says, walking away from us.
“We agreed that we’d tell her.” His wife stands up, facing him.
“What won’t I understand? Is he a twin or isn’t he?” I ask sternly.
“We wish it were that simple,” Mrs. Scott says, looking pained.
I glance back and forth between the two. “Please, I-I don’t know what to think about all of this. I came here hoping for… for something different than what I found. I know what I saw, but something within me is hoping it’s not what it looks like.” I laugh pathetically at myself and the hope I still have that this is just a big misunderstanding.
I take a deep breath. “I’ve always known Cal was hiding something from me. I didn’t know what or why. All I know is that almost two years ago, he walked out on me. That he left me without any explanation at all, but I felt like it wasn’t something he did willingly, and now… I finally find him today, but he’s seemingly in love with this other woman, pretending he has no idea who I am, and it hurts so much. If there is something, anything that you can tell me, even if it’s just confirming what I’ve seen today as the truth. Please… please just tell me.” I feel tears streaming from my eyes. I wipe them away, waiting for an answer. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and look up to see Gwen with tears in her own e
yes as well. “I only want the truth. Even if he doesn’t want to see me again, I just want answers, closure at least.”
Her expression still seems hesitant, and she looks at her husband for agreement. I look away from her and turn my attention to him.
He is now gazing out the window. I touch his arm. I look into this older man’s eyes and see a moment of vulnerability. Then just like that, it’s gone. There’s a wall up again. Now I see where Cal gets it. He crosses his arms, letting out a sigh.
“Please,” I say softly, barely a whisper.
“The truth is that the person you married doesn’t exist,” he says, his eyes looking ahead of him more than at me.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I think I expected this. “So his real name is Chris.” I hope my shaky voice will steady. “He’s been lying to me all along.” I wipe away newly shed tears before I wrap my arms around myself for some sort of comfort.
“No, sweetheart, you don’t understand,” Mrs. Scott says sympathetically, leading me to sit beside her on the sofa.
“Oh, I understand,” I say, nodding as I close my eyes to try to disallow any more tears from falling. “I understand he used me… he never loved me.” My voice betrays me and gives in, releasing a sob.
“Oh, no, sweetheart, you have the wrong idea,” she assures me, rubbing my back as if she were my mother. I look at her skeptically, and she takes a deep breath. “Chris and Cal are… they’re two different people.” She takes my hands.
I look at her husband, and he takes a seat in the large chair from earlier with a grunt of apprehension on the discussion of his son.
“I-I don’t understand.” I look back and forth between them. They said he wasn’t a twin.
“Chris and Cal share the same body, but the person you met today is Chris, not Cal,” Mrs. Scott explains cautiously. “That’s the reason he reacted the way he did. He truly doesn’t know who you are.” Holding my hand, she searches my eyes for some kind of reaction to this information. “Cal is a separate personality from Chris.”
