The Good Twin's Baby

by Vivien Vale

  The smell of bacon makes me realize I’m hungry. I take a few mouthfuls of food. By the time I’m halfway through my meal, I feel better. The pain in my head has subsided a bit, and the nausea is gone as well. The world no longer looks so dark and bleak.

  “I had to tell you how I feel Sophie,” Mason continues.

  “Thanks. I…” I start, but Mason stops me.

  “I know it’s not going to go anywhere.” He offers me a sad smile. “I just want you to know how I feel, and that I’m here for you, as a friend, whenever you need one.”

  I smile and reach over to stroke his cheek.

  “Thanks, Mason. That means a lot to me.”

  And it does. You can’t have too many friends, especially friends who actually care for you and look after you.

  When we leave, we go our separate ways.

  I stand in the middle of the street, the sunlight caressing my skin, and I take a deep breath.

  Time to stop navel-gazing.

  Todd

  The flowers in my hand are growing heavier by the minute. A dozen red roses—each signifying the emotions coursing through my head and heart.

  I run through a number of apologies in mind. I could say something like "I messed up; forgive me," or I could just come out and say, "I'm sorry."

  I even think about getting creative like rolling a message in a bottle, or spelling the words out in food, or flower petals. Or even placing a message in a candy bar…like Wonka's golden ticket, except in this case, instead of winning a trip to a candy factory, I'm trying to win a trip back into Sophie's heart.

  No. That's stupid.

  I look at my watch. She should be here any minute. The longer I watch the minutes advance, the faster I feel my heart hammer in my chest. The anxiety and anticipation is intense…like a hand squeezing the back of my neck.

  Then I see it. Sophie's car.

  I watch as she pulls up to the curb. She's wearing dark sunglasses but the way her gaze falls on me…I know she sees me.

  She gets out of the car and pushes her glasses atop her head. She locks her car and walks up the pavement toward her door, her heels clicking a steady rhythm on the concrete.

  She gives me one quick, cold stare and it breaks my heart. It's like an icy dagger piercing my chest, and I can barely stand it.

  I approach her.

  "Sophie, I'm so sorry," I say, extending the flowers to her.

  She grabs the bouquet, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

  "Stop Todd," she says, "Don't do this. I don't want you here. Leave. I mean it."

  "Just give me a minute…please."

  "What do you want?"

  "I just want a moment to talk with you," I say. "That's all I'm asking for…a moment of your time. There's something I need to say."

  Sophie shakes her head.

  "No," she says. "I don't want to talk to you. Leave."

  Everything about her feels cold. Her arms are crossed, and her face is as welcoming as an ice cube.

  Seeing her like this makes me want to fall apart. Piece by piece. It's as if someone's perforating my heart slowly, pinprick by pinprick.

  I drop down on one knee ready to do whatever it takes.

  "I'm begging you," I say. "Just hear me out. That's all I'm asking."

  She shakes her head some more, and I can involuntarily feel myself raising my voice.

  "All I'm asking for is a minute—a single minute!"

  And as soon as those words leave my lips…the tone loud and frustrated, I know I've sealed my fate.

  The crease in her brow deepens and without taking another look at me, she hands the flower bouquet back to me, unlocks her door, steps inside, and slams it shut.

  The sound of the door closing and locking behind her causes my chest to tighten.

  I throw the bouquet to the ground, watching the flowers bruise. Some petals fall off, and the wind carries them across the pavement.

  I shake my head, pick myself up, and walk back to my car.

  I feel weird.

  From a distance, I can hear the heels of my feet scraping the concrete. I can hear a nearby car horn honk. I see a pigeon strut idly down the sidewalk. And everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Or maybe it's as if everything is muffled and under water. In either case, it feels as if my reality has shifted.

  Fuck. How did everything go so off the rails?

  I shake my head again as I unlock my car door. As soon as I slip inside, I slam the door shut behind me and pound my fist into the steering wheel.

  "Fuck!" I scream out in frustration. This can't be fucking happening.

  I turn the key in the ignition, press my foot on the gas pedal and peel away from the curb, the tires screeching, shrill and angry.

  I look up and see the light turn yellow, and I punch the gas harder with my foot.

  I'm not in the mood to be waiting for any light.

  The light turns red, and I burn through it like a hot bolt of lightning.

  A few people turn to look at me but I don't pay them any heed.

  I blaze down the street, block after block, and with every yellow light, I refuse to slow down. I speed through, even as they turn red, time after time.

  Right now, I give zero fucks.

  Nothing matters anymore.

  I turn the music up on the radio. The tempo is fast and chaotic and it fuels my mood.

  I press on the gas pedal harder. It's pressed nearly to the floor when I suddenly see a person—a teenage boy—stepping into the street. He isn't looking at me, or my car. He's wearing headphones, oblivious to the world, and I realize I'm seconds away from hitting this kid.

  This is bad. Really bad.

  In a split second, I swerve and tap the breaks, my wheels squealing and turning away from the kid. My heart hammers in my chest with the knowledge that I was seconds away from potentially ending this kid's life.

  "Fuck you asshole!" the kid yells, flipping me the middle finger. His eyes look wild with fear and anger.

  This knowledge…that I almost fatally hit someone…makes me sick and it snaps my mind back to reality. The fog of all my angry emotions lifts, and I take my foot from the gas pedal, deciding to move cautiously forward.

  Finally, I arrive home, and as soon as I pull in, I'm reminded of Sophie everywhere I look. The walkway. The landscaping. The front entrance. Everything.

  I walk inside, and every piece of furniture makes me think of Sophie.

  I can't escape her.

  It's driving me insane.

  Without wasting another moment, I grab my jacket, pick up my keys again, and leave.

  Sophie

  I rub my eyes. Staring at the screen for so many hours always gives me dry eyes. What I’d give now for a decent cup of coffee.

  “Looks good,” I smile at Eric and stifle a yawn. Sleep hasn’t been coming easy for me.

  “Good?” Eric grimaces. “It looks bloody fantastic, Soph.”

  I chuckle and nod.

  “You’re right, it looks amazing.”

  Truth is, every time I see Todd on screen, my insides feel like they’re being ripped out and stomped on by a heard of wild elephants.

  “Just like you to be modest. You should be very proud; you’ve done an amazing job pulling this off.”

  If that’s true, then why don’t I feel more elated? Oh. Because my heart’s been smashed into a million pieces, because I feel miserable and because the man I love toyed with me—pretty much like a cat toys with a mouse—before he betrayed me.

  Prick.

  Maybe if I think of him in less than flattering terms, I’ll start to feel better. Trouble is, every time I see the movie or talk about it, I’m reminded of Todd and what we shared during the making of it.

  “Earth to Sophie, are you listening to me?”

  “Sorry, Eric,” I smile and shake my head.

  “I’m sending it off now to the board for a rating. It’ll be interesting to see how it will fare for the Oscars.”

  I shake
my head. Oscars. I’m just pleased the film is made, and everyone did a great job. My fingers play with my clapperboard charm.

  “Let’s see what the god’s will do with it,” I joke and head for the door.

  Alice is already waiting for me.

  To celebrate we’re having a girl’s day at the spa—and not just any spa. No, Alice booked us in at Stars’nShine day spa.

  “You coming with me?” Alice asks me as she gets into her car.

  “See you two beauties later,” calls Eric and drives off.

  I flop into the passenger seat of Alice’s car and sigh.

  “You heard from Todd?”

  I shake my head.

  “I don’t want to hear some lame-ass story, so I’ve blocked his number from my phone.”

  Alice eases the car through the mid-morning traffic, swearing at someone who cuts her off.

  “Probably a good thing,” she replies, and I shake my head to get rid of those memories of Todd and me that are taking over my thoughts, memories that stalk me day and night.

  By the time Alice parks her sports car in the car park, I’m already regretting agreeing to this. I don’t feel like pampering myself. I just want to crawl into a hole.

  “Come on, sourpuss,” Alice punches me gently in the arm. “Time to indulge in all that Stars’nShine has to offer.”

  With a sigh, I get out of the car.

  Fifteen minutes later, we are sitting in a darkened room, wearing nothing but a fluffy thick bathrobe. Our faces are covered with a thick white paste. Gentle music is playing in the background. A petite woman is preparing a foot spa for each of us.

  First, she massages our feet, and then she lowers them into the warm water.

  Soon enough, I’m relaxing into the plush leather chair. The woman now presses some buttons and the chair starts to vibrate, giving me a back and butt massage as my feet are enjoying their own pleasures.

  Alice sips on her iced mint drink and licks her lips.

  “This is the life,” she sighs and looks over at me.

  I chuckle.

  “You look like a fright covered in white.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “You don’t look much better, my dear. Wait till they take this stuff off you, you’ll look and feel ten years younger.”

  Laughing is a little difficult right now, but I do it nonetheless.

  “I think you’re exaggerating, but I hope I do feel better.”

  Alice glares at me—at least I think she’s glaring, it is a little difficult to tell with this facemask.

  “You have to snap out of it, Sophie,” she starts, and I brace for the lecture. “Todd isn’t the only man in town. You wait. Your film will be an instant hit and the men will throw themselves at your feet. You will have your pick.”

  I doubt it.

  “I guess.” I try to sound convincing.

  Thing is, I don’t want the pick of the bunch. I know who I want, and his name is Todd Alexander. My brain and my feelings just don’t want to see things eye to eye.

  My sensible part is telling my heart to simply forget about Todd, good riddance to him. Unfortunately, my heart won’t listen. My heart wants to pine for Todd.

  Perhaps it’s just human nature to want something we know we can’t have.

  “Sophie,” Alice voice rouses me from navel gazing. “Eric thinks we’re in with a chance for at least one Oscar.”

  “Eric, the optimist,” I say.

  “And Sophie, the pessimist?”

  I shake my head.

  “Realist?”

  “Rubbish.”

  Our beauty consultant comes back into the room and asks us to follow her.

  We leave our cave of relaxation (I think that’s what it is called), and now enter the room of calmness.

  More relaxation music is playing in the background and candles are along one of the walls. My sense of smells picks up hints of cinnamon, vanilla and something citrusy.

  “Please lie here,” says our consultant and points to two tables.

  I take off my dressing gown and lie face down on the massage table.

  Someone drapes a towel over my backside, and then a set of strong hands massage my body. I close my eyes and surrender to the pleasure of the massage.

  In my dream-like state, I’m imagining Todd rubbing my shoulders, running his fingers along my spine, before ripping the towel off me and kneading my ass.

  “You ok?”

  I open my eyes. Have I really just groaned?

  “Fine.” I say quickly and feel a delicious warmth in between my legs. Luckily, my face is hidden in the hole of the table and no one can see how red my face is.

  “You’re very tense,” my masseur says.

  “I’ve had a lot of stress in my life lately.” I reply and curse my imagination.

  “I’ll make you feel better,” she says and keeps digging her fingers into my tense neck and back.

  By the time we leave, I actually feel a little better…emphasis on a little.

  Todd

  I swirl the amber liquid in the glass and watch it come to the edge and drop down again. Fuck. I take a big swig and wait.

  Wasn’t the pain supposed to be dulled?

  If it was, it isn’t working any more. The first few days, it was great at numbing the pain, but now...

  How many days has it been now? I can’t recall. Actually, I don’t give a fuck; it has been too many days, way too many days.

  My life has gone down the toilet. Nothing matters anymore.

  I look at my phone. I dial Sophie’s number again. Nothing.

  She’s blocked me from her phone. I glare at the little device in my hand and I want to throw it against the wall. I want to see it suffer the way I’m suffering. An eye for an eye.

  I try dialing her number again. Who knows, maybe now I’m unblocked?

  I’m not.

  “Fucking little thing,” I growl at my phone. “Why the fuck aren’t you working? What’s the point of having a little fucker like you if I can’t even use you?”

  I’m not sure, but my words might be a little slurred. Not being able to speak to Sophie is driving me insane.

  I stumble to the kitchen. On the way I trip over empty bottles.

  Why the fuck is there garbage all over the floor? I should speak to someone about that.

  No matter how thorough my search, there seems to be no whiskey left. If I were of the right mind, I would go and buy some more. The effort seems too great though.

  With a sigh I look around. Wherever I look, I see Sophie.

  Her image haunts me. Her eyes haunt me. Fuck, she’d looked so hurt the other night.

  I’m a bastard for hurting her like that. How could I have been such an idiot and fallen for Emma’s blackmail?

  The little bitch just wanted to make me pay for rejecting her. She wanted me to be her plaything—she wanted to use me.

  Even my alcohol-befuddled brain understands Emma had been toying with me. Perhaps her attention had been as evil as splitting Sophie and me up all along.

  She probably never really wanted anything from me once I had rejected her. Bitch.

  I don’t hear the front door and am surprised to see Jordan in my living room.

  “Fuck, man,” he groans. “What’s going on?”

  I stare at him. He betrayed me too. Why didn’t he come to my aid when I needed him?

  I watch as he picks up clothing, discarded pizza boxes, and milkshake containers.

  “Man, a garbage can smells better than this.”

  Fuck you, I want to say, but for some reason I can’t form the words.

  With my head nearly exploding, I flop onto the couch and cover it with a pillow.

  Go away, leave me alone. Everyone just fuck off.

  Jason keeps making noise as if he’s throwing grenades in my living room.

  “Man,” I mutter, “can you keep it down?”

  “I was going to ask how you are, but I can see I’m wasting my breath.”

>   I ignore Jason and keep my head covered.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I say and lift the cushion off my face. “It’s such a fucking mess. Emma led me right into a fucking trap, and now Sophie won’t speak to me. I can’t call her, I can’t.”

  I’m not crying, not really. Come on, a real man doesn’t cry…but my voice has gone a bit funny.

  Coffee. I need some coffee.

  As I throw the cushion off my face and try to get up, I fall flat on my face. Ouch. The grenades I thought Jason was throwing are now going off inside my head.

  It takes me several minutes to get my bearings and even longer to get to my feet.

  There’s something severely wrong with me. Have I got a terminal illness? Maybe.

  Would Sophie feel sorry for me and come to nurse me in my dying days? I stay on the ground and lean against the back of the couch.

  The images of Sophie applying a cool washer to my sweaty face are a nice thought. But then who would tell her I’m dying?

  She’d read about it, fool.

  Yes, the press would have a field day with the news of Todd Alexander dying of mysterious illness. Maybe it isn’t that mysterious, maybe it is cancer.

  Or a fucking broken heart.

  I shudder. I hear Jason on the phone. I’m not quite sure what he’s saying, but he seems to be talking to someone.

  “House cleaning will be here in five,” Jason announces and throws me a dressing gown. “You might want to cover up.”

  What the fuck does he mean now? Slowly my gaze travels down my body and onto my legs.

  Fuck. I’m not wearing any pants.

  Just as the doorbell rings, I put on some pants.

  “Drink this,” he says, and it’s a command, not a question. Jason hands me a green-looking drink.

  “Are you trying to poison me?”

  Jason pulls a face. “Man, you’re doing that all by yourself. I’m trying to help you.”

  I shake my head. He calls this help? Fake friend.

  Gingerly, my lips curl around the glass, and I take a sip.

  Argh. I grimace; it’s disgusting.

  “Just drink and don’t think about it.”

  I do as he commands. His face leaves me little choice.

  As a reward, he hands me my espresso.

  Ah. That’s better.

  I look at him.