by Cat Patrick
The question is one I’ve never been asked, not even when I was young. It’s complicated.
“Well, it’s equal parts wonderful and horrible,” I say.
“What’s good about it?”
“The connection.” I smile. “We’re really close, and not just emotionally. We’re on one another’s wavelengths. We can feel strong feelings from the other ones, and sometimes we even have the same dreams.”
“That’s so cool,” he says. I nod.
“Sometimes, yes,” I say. “Like if I’m in a bad mood, they just know. They can feel what I feel. They don’t have to ask. It’s nice to be understood like that.”
“What about the bad parts?” Sean asks as he takes a hard turn. I realize that we’re near the water now.
“I think it’s made worse by the fact that we’re sharing one life, but the bad side of looking like two other people is feeling like I don’t have my own identity at all. Like there’s nothing unique about me.”
I pause, remembering what Sean said earlier.
“I agree with you, you know,” I say. “About how my life is messed up.”
“I figured,” he says as he pulls into a beach lot. He parks the car and turns off the ignition. He turns to me and grabs my hand. “Listen, Lizzie, I’m not going to pretend that I’m not completely floored by what you told me this afternoon. I’m going to have a lot more questions—and I gotta be honest: I don’t know her, but I think your mom is off the rails.”
“That’s okay. You might be right.”
“But I’m glad you told me,” he says quietly. “I’m glad that you’re not just trying to date me and Dave at the same time.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Ella’s dating Dave,” I say. “I hope I’m dating you.”
“I hope I’m dating you, too.”
Sean and I get out, he grabs a bag from the trunk, and we hold hands as we walk across Big Beach. Mid-fall and probably snowing in other parts of the country; here it’s a beautiful late afternoon and a few families and groups of friends are out. There’s even a small circle of wet-suit-clad surfers on the water despite the fact that the waves are surely growing colder.
Our secret out, I’m not weightless like I’d like to be, but I’m not quite as burdened, either. “You know, you’re the only person we’ve ever told,” I say to him.
He looks at me, surprised. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. There’s never been anyone we were close to, except a neighbor in Florida. But we were triplets then… so there was nothing to tell.”
“I’m sorry you haven’t had anyone to share stuff with,” he says, squeezing my hand. “But at the same time, I’m sort of honored to be the first.” He smiles a silly smile. “It’s like I’m the chosen one.”
“You’re the chosen dork,” I say, shaking my head. I realize we’re walking toward a wall of rocks; I hope he doesn’t think I’m climbing over it.
“Hey, Lizzie?” I look at his face. “Jokes aside, I’m glad you told me. As much as I might need time to process, I’m glad I know. I’m glad you trust me enough to let me in.”
“I’m glad, too,” I say just as we stop in front of the rocks. I furrow my brow at him.
“Now I need you to trust me again.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, playfulness in my tone. It feels nice. He points to an opening between two massive boulders.
“You want me to go in there?”
He nods. “It’s amazing; you’ll see.”
“What if there are wild animals hiding in the darkness?”
“There aren’t,” he says, grinning.
“Are you sure?” I take a step closer and try to peer inside, but all I can see is blackness.
“I’m sure. It’s just a passage. My dad used to bring me here all the time when I was a kid, back before my parents split. I come back sometimes to veg out or take pictures or whatever.”
“Or whatever,” I tease, a touch jealous. “Been here a lot, have you?” I take another step closer to the rocks.
“I’ve never brought another girl here, if that’s what you mean.”
Sean laughs, but it reassures me just the same; when he leads me into what looks like a cave, I feel reasonably safe. Then when we wind through and pop out the other side, I feel like I’ve just won the emotional lottery. The cove before me is a three-walled room with an open window to the ocean: the most beautiful escape I could ever imagine.
“It’s our own personal beach,” I murmur, looking out toward the water.
“Mm-hmm,” Sean says, taking out his camera and setting the bag in the sand. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him focusing on my profile. He’s standing next to and a little behind me, so I know that the background of the photo is water crashing on the far wall of rocks. I don’t hear the shutter snap, because the waves are too loud, but I hear what Sean says next.
“I’m glad to know you aren’t crazy.” I flip in his direction; he’s smirking at me.
“What are you talking about?”
He shrugs, snaps another photo of my now-surprised-slash-irritated expression, then answers. “I thought you might’ve had split personalities or something,” he says. “Because Ella and you are so…”
“Different,” I say. We quietly take each other in for a few seconds.
“You were wrong earlier,” he says.
“Oh, yeah? About what?”
“About not being unique. I mean, I know you look like Ella and Betsey. But I don’t see the three of you the same way. You’re… you.”
The waves crash; I shiver in the ocean breeze. Neither of us speaks for a few more moments.
“Can I take some pictures of you?” Sean asks sweetly. I smile and nod, happy to be moving on from the day’s heavy discussion to do something light.
We spend the next two hours snapping shot after shot. I climb onto a low rock and he takes a series of pictures of me standing there like a warrior. I sit on a log, legs outstretched, and Sean snaps a few close-ups of my face. I take off my shoes and consider wading into the water until I realize it’s too chilly. He takes a few photos of my toes before I put my shoes back on. I drop into the sand and laugh as Sean click, click, clicks from every angle, eventually having to use a flash when the fall day grows dark.
I feel silly at first, but Sean’s encouraging words put me at ease. I’ve never had an interest in modeling—or the size-zero frame that goes with it—but with Sean peering out from behind the camera, it feels much more intimate than just taking pretty pictures.
It feels more like making out.
I roll to my side in the sand, head propped on my hand. Sean’s on his stomach next to me, camera pointed at my face.
“Are you glad you came over today?” I ask softly. The waves crash.
“More than glad,” Sean says from behind the camera. “Thankful.” Click.
“Truly?” I ask. “Because you did hide for two hours.”
“I just needed to think about everything,” he says. “To let it sink in.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll probably do that when I try to go to sleep tonight. It was a pretty big deal for me.”
“I know it was,” he says. “Are you glad you did it?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“Good,” he says, putting the camera back up to his face. “I do have one question, though.”
My heart skips; it’s the tone of his voice.
Click.
“You said Betsey does evening stuff,” he says.
“Yes,” I answer, half smiling.
Click.
“Football games are in the evening.”
“Oh, really?” I feign surprise.
Click.
“There’s one game in particular I’m curious about,” Sean says, still from behind the camera.
“It was me,” I whisper just before the waves crash.
Sean lowers the camera and pulls the lens cap out of his pocket. He snaps it on and sets the camera aside. Then he scoots over to me.
With his face two inches from mine, he whispers:
“Prove it.”
And I do.
fourteen
The next day after school, I’m driving down the road when Mom’s driving up. When we pass each other, I see that she’s wearing her scrubs, so she must be going to work. I get a flash of nervous excitement, wondering if I should take the opportunity to check out her secret office during the day. I make a split decision to do it; I pull over and turn around.
Mom’s so far ahead of me I can’t see her, but then halfway down the hill, I notice her turning in the opposite direction of work.
“Here we go again,” I mutter to myself. “Where are you going this time?”
I follow, realizing after a few minutes that we’re tracing the path back to the office.
“You’re going to be late for work!” I say aloud, annoyed at her. The cell rings; it’s Home.
“You’re late,” Betsey says.
“I know, sorry,” I say. “I’m following Mom.”
“Really?” Bet asks, her voice going up a little. “To the hospital?”
“No, I saw her leaving and was going to take the chance when she’s at work to check out that office, but she’s driving there instead. In fact, wait, hold on a sec.” I put down the phone so I can use two hands to pull into a space. “Okay, I’m back. I had to park. She’s going in now.”
I watch and tell Betsey as Mom pulls keys from her purse and unlocks the door. She goes in, and I wait.
“What’s happening now?” Bet asks five minutes later, after growing tired of hearing about how cute Sean was in class today.
“Still nothing,” I say.
“What, she’s just hanging out in there?”
“I guess,” I say, sighing.
“Well, come back,” she says. “I’m going to be late for class.”
“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. We hang up, and I’m about to turn the key in the ignition when I decide to go try to look inside. If Mom catches me, she’ll be mad, but no madder than she is already.
I hop out and jog across the street, then hug the side of the building. When I’m in front, I get such a surge of nervousness that I consider turning back, but something keeps me going forward. I walk in my mom’s footsteps up the stairs and cup my hands so I can peer in the window next to the front door. Part of me thinks she’s going to be standing there, staring out. Thankfully, she’s not.
Inside is just an ordinary doctor’s or dentist’s office with a reception desk in front—except that there’s no receptionist, and there are no waiting area chairs or decorations, either. The front room is empty. I look for a few minutes, then decide to leave, but just before I pull away, I see Mom pass by the doorway to the back area. She’s reading something, moving from the left side of the building to the right side, engrossed. She has a pen in her mouth, and she looks like she’s… working? Except that she’s not at the hospital. And she’s no longer wearing her scrubs.
Confused, I back away and jog to the car, looking over my shoulder every so often to make sure Mom’s not watching me. Distractedly, I make one stop before I go home. Then I drive back to the house even faster. When I arrive, I burst through the front door and call for Betsey and Ella. Ella appears from the direction of the kitchen; Betsey looks down at me curiously from the balcony.
“Mom’s not an ER doctor,” I say, out of breath for seemingly no reason. “Someone’s paying her twenty thousand dollars every month and it’s sure as hell not Memorial Hospital.”
The others are speechless for a few moments. Then finally, Ella speaks.
“Huh,” she says, looking stupefied. “I guess I was wrong about the watering-plants thing, then?”
“Yeah,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I guess you were.”
fifteen
At noon on Saturday, we three are scattered around the rec room talking in circles. Mom said she was working a double shift—which means she’s probably at her secret office—but wherever she is, I’m glad that the house and the day are ours.
“So, are we going to confront her about it?” Ella asks, looking uneasy about her own question. She went along with the whole Sean thing, but I think that in general, deep down, she’s afraid of change. Plus she’s dating Dave, so her life has actually improved lately.
“She’ll probably just lie,” Betsey says, putting her feet up on the coffee table. “I mean, she’s lied to us for years about her job—”
“And about where her money comes from,” I interject.
“Right,” Bet says, “so what’s to stop her from just lying her way out of this?” She pauses. “I wish that girl from Twinner would get back to me. I mean, what if it’s really Beth? If we had that to throw at Mom—if we could catch her in that lie—then she’d be forced to tell us the rest.”
“I think the Twinner thing’s a coincidence,” Ella says. “I think she’s just a girl who happens to look sort of like us.”
“Exactly like us,” Betsey corrects her.
“In a picture,” Ella says. “Maybe not in real life. Whatever. I think we need to focus on Mom and why she’s lying, and what she’s really doing all night when she says she’s at work.”
“And we’re back to the question of confronting her or not,” I say before sighing. We’re all quiet for a minute, and I realize that the stereo’s on: It’s so low it sounds like it’s coming from another house.
“I can’t think when I’m starving,” Betsey says finally. “Someone go get pizza.”
“You’re so lazy,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Let’s get it from that place where Dave works,” Ella says, her ulterior motives shining bright as a neon sign.
“It’s afternoon,” Betsey says to me, “which means you’re the one who should go. I mean, I’d be happy to go, and I’m sure Ella would, too, but it’s your time.” She smiles at me devilishly, like she knows she’s won.
“Why don’t you go with me?” I ask, challenging her. “I mean, if you’re so happy to go.”
Betsey waits a beat, then says, “Okay.”
“What?” Ella asks. “If anyone’s going, I am. You guys don’t even like Dave.”
“Is he working today?” I ask. Ella shrugs.
“Well, I actually do want to go, because I need to pick up some new deodorant at the store next to the pizza place,” I say. “You guys always get the wrong kind.”
“Stan’s is in that complex,” Bet says. “Get ice cream, too.”
“I thought you were going with me,” I say, smirking.
“Oh, right, I am,” Betsey says, and I can’t tell if she’s kidding.
“You’re not seriously both going,” Ella says.
Betsey and I hold gazes for a few seconds, and then, when soundless words have passed between us, we both look at Ella. “Let’s all go,” I say. Betsey nods, then stands up.
“We can’t,” Ella says, but I know she really wants to see if Dave’s at the pizza place.
“Sure we can,” Betsey says. She’s already in the doorway. “Mom’s out. And besides, if she catches us, we’ll just ask her where she was today.”
“But what if someone sees us?” Ella protests even as she’s following me down the stairs.
“Ella, I’m not convinced there are any ‘someones’ who care about us anymore. And if there are, at this point, I might just take my chances.”
“Go, Lizzie!” Betsey says happily, opening the front door.
And then, for the first time in seven years, Ella, Betsey, and I step out of the house… together.
There’s a little shopping complex at the bottom of the hill boasting all the stores neighborhood residents could need or want. There’s a small grocery store, a pizza place, an ice cream shop, a coffee hangout, a nail salon, a gift shop, a dog groomer, and a dry cleaner. Ella’s driving, and she finds a spot in front of the least-frequented business—the reading-glasses store—and we all get out. Without words, we split up and walk to our destinations: Ella’s in charg
e of pizza, Betsey will grab ice cream, and I’ll stock up on toiletries.
I get what we need, pay, and leave the store, swinging the bags in my hands as I weave through parked cars. I breathe in the smell of pizza and environmentally friendly dry cleaning and feel at peace with things for the time being. Someone pulls into the space on the right side of the car, and even though they’re parked way too close, I’m content to wait for the driver to get out.
Until I realize that the driver is Grayson.
“Hi, Elizabeth!” she says when she sees me standing there. “Sorry, let me get out of your way. I thought this space was bigger.” She looks embarrassed as she shuts her door and has to squeeze between the cars to get out. “So, what’s up?”
“Just getting groceries,” I say, holding up my bags.
“Oh, cool,” she says, glancing into the car. I do the same: Betsey and Ella are both purposefully looking away. “Who’s that you’re with?”
“Just—”
Beep! Ella lays on the horn at exactly the right moment.
“Some super impatient people, apparently,” I say, laughing it off. “I guess I have to go. I’ll see you next week.”
“Okay, bye,” Grayson says, looking confused but moving aside so I can get in. She waves and starts walking away.
“This was so freaking stupid,” Ella says as I buckle my belt.
“She didn’t see anything,” I say.
But then, because apparently luck just isn’t on our side today, there’s a backup of cars leaving at the same time—right as Grayson makes it across the lot.
She has to walk in front of our car.
I hold my breath as she does, hoping she won’t look over and notice us. She keeps her eyes ahead, but then once she’s on the sidewalk on the other side and we start to creep forward, she glances at the car. Grayson sees me and smiles, then raises her hand to wave. But then her forehead creases.
“She’s looking at me,” Bet says through clenched, smiling teeth.
The car ahead of us moves. Ella floors it and almost hits a bicyclist, who swerves and shouts. I see in the side mirror that the commotion pulls Grayson’s attention away from us; she covers her mouth in surprise and pulls out her phone—probably in case she needs to call an ambulance. Thankfully, the guy’s fine. But by the time Grayson looks at us again, all she can see is the backs of our heads.