“Oh, I’m so sorry for him,” I said, with exaggerated sympathy. “Maybe you should just go by yourself.”
She dropped her hands to her hips and once again looked as if she might start pounding her thigh the way Mother did when she was in a rage.
“You know Mother won’t let me go if you’re not going. Besides, you should be sorrier for yourself. And you should be more grateful. You finally have a real date, thanks to me. Everyone was wondering why you and Matt weren’t seeing each other outside of school. All I hear all the time is ‘your sister is so shy, so socially backward.’ ”
I sat up, my eyes probably as steely as hers now. “Socially backward! And what do you tell them, Haylee Blossom Fitzgerald?” I knew I sounded just like Mother, who often used our full names whenever she was upset with us.
The fury and the look of superiority in Haylee’s face dissipated like smoke. “I defend you, of course.”
“How?”
“I tell them you’re just . . . just being careful. Don’t you go telling Mother something different, Kaylee.”
I shrugged and lay back. “Why should I? You were right. I was being careful, just like you are,” I said. “You’re just better at hiding it than I am.”
She studied me to see if I was being serious. I didn’t smile, but I enjoyed how confused and insecure I was making her. Did I really envy her? She wanted that to be true so much that she was eager to accept it. If Sarah Morgan could hear this conversation, she’d be laughing, I thought.
“Whatever. We’re going to have a good time tomorrow night, Kaylee,” she said, as if she had to convince herself as much as me.
“I hope so.”
“You don’t need to hope so. We will! Don’t dare back out of this at the last moment because you’re sad or something. That would make Mother mad, too.”
“Make Mother mad? Why?”
“She’d think you’ve taken Daddy’s side or something. You’ll make it seem like it’s all her fault, and she won’t like that, not one bit.”
That was a clever way to twist things around, I thought. Perhaps I was underestimating my sister.
“Is that why you act like you don’t care what’s happening, Haylee? You don’t want Mother to think you like Daddy enough for it to matter?”
“I don’t want to talk about sad things,” she said. “You heard what Mother said about that. ‘Dwelling on sadness is like watering poison ivy.’ ” She turned to leave and then paused. “It’s that Sarah Morgan.”
“What is?”
“Causing you to be the way you are. She’s such a loser. She wants you to be one, too. Losers need company,” she added, pleased with herself, and left.
I hated to give her credit for a sharp insight, but she wasn’t all wrong about Sarah. It was easy to see how upset she was by my spending more time with Matt than with her lately. If the three of us were together, he practically ignored her, and that made it more difficult to keep her in our conversations. She was always asking me if Matt had asked me out or if I was going to meet him somewhere and wouldn’t see her on a weekend. When I told her about our Friday night date, she just nodded and said, “Have a good time,” but not like someone who was happy for me. She seemed more like someone who felt sorry for herself.
I did try to hide this from Haylee. I knew she would pounce on it the way she had in the beginning and cry to Mother that Sarah was more of a burden than a friend for us. On more than one occasion, she had made a point of telling me that Sarah would never get invited to parties we were invited to. She’d always be on the outside looking in.
“You’re wasting your time being friends with her and forcing me to pretend I am, too,” she insisted incessantly. Before I could respond with criticism of her friends, she would quickly add, “But I won’t say anything about it to Mother. You’ll get tired of Sarah on your own. If you’re smart enough, that is.”
On Friday after school, Haylee got up the nerve to ask Mother if it would be all right for us to dress differently for the party. “It’s just a party like others we’ve gone to, Mother, but we’re older now. We’ll each wear something you bought us and approve of,” she said.
Actually, I was hoping Mother would agree. She still had no idea how differently Haylee dressed after she arrived at school, and I did not want to be mistaken for her.
Mother looked as if she wasn’t going to answer. She seemed to be in deep thought about something else, something I was sure had to do with the divorce. Then, as if the words had just arrived in her ears, the way the sound of a jet plane doesn’t come down to earth until the plane is way off in the distance, she looked at Haylee and said, “What’s that? What would you wear?”
“I don’t know, Mother. Maybe you could help us pick out something,” Haylee said, with such sweet timidity you could gain weight hearing her.
Mother relaxed her shoulders. I thought again how clever Haylee was at manipulating people, even our mother, who right now looked overwhelmed and vulnerable. She thought for so long that I believed she wasn’t even going to respond. Maybe she was simply tired. She did look older. Despite how strong she tried to appear about the divorce and Daddy’s adultery, her face was showing more wear and tear. This breakup of their marriage hadn’t just happened, either. She had kept so much from us, but that didn’t mean she was keeping it outside of herself. It had been swirling inside her for a long time, tearing at her in little ways.
The wrinkles at her eyes were deeper, and the shadows were darker under her eyes. She had let her hair go, not going to her salon for more than two months, and I could see strands of gray sneaking in. She wasn’t wearing much makeup when she went out on errands or when she took us someplace, the way she always used to. Because she had once been a model, her appearance was important to her. She was always coordinated with her outfits and shoes, her jewelry and makeup.
“You two look so beautiful when you dress alike,” Mother said, sounding mournful. I thought she was close to tears, and Mother never cried in front of us.
“Oh, we won’t change anything else about us. We certainly won’t change our hair, will we, Kaylee?”
I looked quickly back at Mother to see if she could tell how sneaky Haylee was being, but it was as if her eyes had glazed over and the world she saw was on the other side of smoked glass.
“Very well,” Mother said, after a sigh as deep as the Grand Canyon. “I’ll go look in your closets and choose something for each of you.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Haylee said quickly. “You can go to Kaylee’s closet first. I’m going to take my shower. What color are we doing our nails?” she asked me, as if she had forgotten what we had decided, when in truth we hadn’t discussed any of our preparations for the party.
“Whatever you do with your nails,” Mother said, “depends on what you wear. I’ve told you often about the harmony you must have in your appearance.”
“Oh, right,” Haylee said.
“You have to pay attention to these things,” Mother said.
I knew what she meant, and so did Haylee. She was just being too anxious and too ingratiating. I thought she was way over the top, and I remained surprised that Mother didn’t pick up on how phony Haylee was being.
“Oh, we know, Mother,” I said quickly. “We were going to do a neutral anyway.”
Mother nodded. “Of course you know what to do. I’ve brought you up the way a mother should bring up her daughters today. Little was your father aware of what work has to be done raising girls to be perfect ladies. He thinks, like everything he does, it’s just a simple click of the computer mouse,” she said. “Click, and you delete a wife.” She pretended to press a button. “Click, and you delete a family. Click, click, click, and the past is gone!”
Haylee looked halfway between amused and confused. She glanced at me. I was wondering if everything we did and everything we said would somehow, some way, wind its way to a nasty comment about Daddy. Was Mother going to become one of those man haters now, comfortably
blaming what happened to her on the gender and not the individual? The romances and marriages she had once dreamed up for us like a master storyteller would be lost and forgotten or filed away with other childhood fantasies. No matter whom we liked and eventually loved, Mother would find fault with him. I had seen this in some of my classmates, too, as if it somehow made them feel better when someone was poisoned with the same bitterness. They had to share it and make someone else feel miserable. After an argument with Mother, Daddy often would walk out, leaving the saying “Misery loves company” floating in his wake like ugly car exhaust. I hadn’t fully understood it until now.
Mother followed me to my room reluctantly. She was muttering to herself, which was also something I caught her doing much more lately. Sometimes she was so loud I would look in on where she was, expecting to see someone else with her, a visitor. But visitors, especially her friends, had become almost nonexistent. When she was a teacher’s assistant, she’d rarely had time for any of her friends, even on weekends.
“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” she said, shaking her head as she sifted through my clothes. She paused. “What kind of a party did Haylee say it was?”
“Just a party, Mother. No special occasion.”
“Hmm,” she said. “You both look so beautiful in this.” She took out a black jacquard rose fit-and-flare dress with pink and cream panels. “You’ll both at least wear the pink fleece jackets. It’s spring, but the nights still have a winter chill.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“You know what shoes go with this,” she said. “You both have those sterling-silver white-sapphire bracelets with the earrings that match. I wouldn’t wear anything more.”
“Okay, Mother,” I said.
No matter how depressed she was now, I would always trust her when it came to fashion. Before she and Daddy had become so estranged, she would buy him his clothes, especially his shirts, sweaters, and jackets. She would often bring home a new shirt or a new sports jacket for him and tell him it was what he must wear. He didn’t mind, or at least I didn’t think he did. He appeared grateful and behaved as though it was all perfect. He did look handsome in anything she chose. Who would choose his clothes for him now? Was his new girlfriend as good at it? How could she be?
Mother left to pick out Haylee’s dress and tell her what else I was wearing and what she would have to wear. There would be no objections. Haylee would wear a crown of thorns if it meant she could get to this party.
The dress Mother picked for her was an all-over sequin skater dress. I suspected Haylee had influenced Mother’s choice. I knew Haylee thought she was very sexy in that dress. Afterward, she came into my room so we could be sure we did our hair as close to each other’s as possible, and that we used the same lipstick shade and the same perfume.
“She’ll look us over like a drill sergeant before we leave,” Haylee said, fixing a strand of my hair.
Jimmy and Matt had decided that Matt would pick up both of us, since we were going to Jimmy’s house. When Haylee told Mother, I expected she would say no and insist that she bring us to the party and pick us up, but the divorce had begun to make subtle changes already in how she would manage our lives. I suspected that Daddy’s complaints about how controlling she was had struck a note with the attorneys. She was going to prove that we were, despite all the preparations and special upbringing, healthy, normal teenage girls. He was just so oblivious to us that he didn’t notice.
I hoped Mother was right. That would be one argument in which I would support her. I so wanted Haylee and me to be what anyone would call normal teenage girls, despite what made us so different from everyone else. I knew this was something Haylee wanted even more.
Just before Matt arrived, Mother did exactly what Haylee had predicted, inspecting us with microscope eyes. She fixed Haylee’s hair where there was a slight difference from mine with her bangs, something neither of us had caught. Then she stepped back, smiling and nodding.
“You’re so alike that even in different dresses, you are like one, my Haylee-Kaylee, Kaylee-Haylee.”
Neither of us said anything, but I could see that Haylee wanted to scream.
Fortunately, Matt pressed the door buzzer just at that moment.
Mother immediately began to attend to herself. “I look like a disaster,” she said, fluffing her hair and straightening her blouse. “I didn’t even put on any lipstick today.”
“Don’t worry, Mother. Matt’s Kaylee’s date. He’ll only be looking at her.”
“Date?”
“Sorta,” Haylee added quickly. “Right, Kaylee?”
“We’re both fond of him,” I said.
“I see,” Mother said. Matt pressed the buzzer again. “He’s quite anxious. Anxious boys often turn into abusive men. Remember that,” she warned.
Haylee squinted as if she was in pain. Was something going to stop our night out after all? I could see that she was holding her breath until Mother turned slowly and went to the front door. We followed, both of us trying not to look too eager.
I could have kissed Matt right then and there. He had brought a bouquet of red and white roses, not for me but for Mother. He was also wearing a dark blue sports jacket, a matching tie, and blue slacks, instead of jeans and a sweatshirt. He looked a century away from how most teenage boys dressed for dates. I could see that he’d had his hair trimmed today, too.
“Good evening, Mrs. Fitzgerald. I’m Matt Tesler,” he said.
Mother looked lost for words.
“Oh, these are for you, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” he quickly added, holding out the flowers.
“For me? Why?” Mother asked suspiciously, hesitating. If there was one thing she wouldn’t tolerate, it was pity. Her fear was that word of her impending divorce was out and might be the subject of gossip. Poor Keri Fitzgerald, left to care for identical twin teenage girls.
“I thought anyone who had daughters as nice and as beautiful as yours should be rewarded,” Matt said. Then he leaned in, looking past her at me, and added sotto voce, “My father said it was the proper thing to do.”
His confession made Mother laugh. She took the roses and stepped aside. Matt entered.
“I’ve always admired your house, Mrs. Fitzgerald. And the way you keep the grounds.”
“Thank you, Matt. These are very pretty. Now,” she said, returning to her stern demeanor, “I want you to drive very slowly and carefully. You have quite valuable cargo, double the value.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, I will.”
“They have to be home by eleven thirty,” she said firmly. Haylee groaned. Mother glanced at her, and Haylee quickly wiped the disappointment off her face.
“I’ll make sure of that,” Matt said.
“And there had better not be any drinking or any drugs.”
“My parents laid out the same rules, Mrs. Fitzgerald. We have a no-tolerance policy. I’d lose my driving privileges even if there was suspicion.”
“Yes, well, let’s hope the parents of everyone else attending this party laid down the same rules,” Mother said.
I could see that Matt was just about to say, Everyone else?
“We should go,” I said. “We’re helping to organize the party.”
Matt raised his eyebrows but opened the door quickly.
Mother looked at us, looked at her flowers, and then stepped back for us to walk out. “Have a good time,” she said.
“Thank you, Mother,” we replied in our usual synchronized way. I saw Matt smile.
Haylee hurried out ahead of me, moving like someone who was making an escape.
Matt waited for me. “Good evening, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” he said. “And don’t worry.”
“That’s impossible,” Mother told him.
“I know,” Matt said. He smiled at her and closed the door behind us.
“Let’s get out of here before she changes her mind,” Haylee said, and continued to rush ahead to get into the back of Matt’s car, a black late-model SUV.
“Did you tell him to bring Mother the flowers?” Haylee asked me.
“No.”
“Good move, Matt,” Haylee said. “I think you’ve done this before.”
“Done what before?”
“Stroked some girl’s mother,” she said.
“I wasn’t stroking her. I was telling the truth,” Matt said, without taking his eyes off the road. “Get used to it.”
“To what?” Haylee said.
“The truth,” he replied, and I laughed. He did, too.
“Oh, that’s hysterical,” Haylee said, not liking that she was outside the small circle Matt and I had begun to create around us, a circle that looked as if it would get even smaller tonight.
“So what was that about helping to organize the party?” Matt asked.
“My mother thinks there are more kids coming to Jimmy’s house,” I said.
“Oh, I see.”
“Our little lies are just temporary,” Haylee declared. “We have special circumstances these days.”
“I know. I’m sorry about your parents divorcing.”
“We don’t want to dwell on it. We want to have a good time. We deserve it,” she said.
He looked at me and smiled. “Deserve it?”
“Yes. It’s not our fault our home has become the Titanic,” Haylee said.
“Okay,” Matt said. “We’ll avoid icebergs.”
“It’s too late. Just concentrate on being a lifeboat,” she said.
I looked back at her. That was very clever, I thought. Maybe Haylee was smarter than I was in important ways.
She smiled and reached for my hand. “Our first double date,” she said.
I looked at Matt. He glanced at me just long enough for me to see that he was really happy, too. He also kept checking his rearview mirror.
The Mirror Sisters Page 12