by Geonn Cannon
Molly capped the pen and rubbed her forehead. She picked up the phone, stared at it for a long minute, and then dialed a number. “Hi, this is Molly Page. April’s sister? I’m sorry to be calling so late...yes, I remember. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but April passed away a few days ago. I know, we were...we were all shocked...”
##
The next morning woke Molly with a slow crawl of sunlight across her face. She blinked and pushed up from the splayed position she had adopted in the night, rubbing her tired eyes with the heels of her hands. She had called a few people she knew to be night owls, and she would spend the rest of the morning calling everyone else.
She reached for the phone, but her hand shrank from the task. She would shower, get something for breakfast, maybe go for a jog...anything to postpone the calls for as long as possible. Besides, the people she had called the night before were probably already calling friends of friends, expanding the phone tree. If she waited long enough, there was a chance that the work would be done without her having any more awkward conversations with near-strangers.
She stretched, rubbed her face, and stumbled through the house to the bathroom. She turned on the shower and undressed down to her underwear as she waited for the water to get hot. She stood in front of the sink with her toothbrush and stared at her hands resting on the porcelain. Nicks and long-healed scars, remnants and mementos from her years learning the trade, dotted the flesh of her thin fingers. When she finally raised her eyes, she faced her mirror image. April. They were identical, but not to each other. April had a tiny scar over her right eyebrow, and her face was a little thinner. But that didn't matter. The woman in the mirror might as well have been April.
Molly sneered, “What the hell were you thinking? Going ninety miles an hour down a highway at night? April...” She sighed and rubbed her face.
April had been a passenger in the car. The driver had been going ninety when a tire had blown out. The car had flipped twice. April wasn’t wearing her seatbelt. Her head had impacted the side window, and her body crumpled to the ceiling of the car when it finally settled on the roof. The paramedics had done everything they could at the scene, but she was declared dead-on-arrival by the attending doctor in the emergency room.
She looked back at the mirror. Who had been driving? What had been so damned important that they were going so fast? The steam from the shower soon obscured Molly’s reflection completely, so there would be no answers found in the identical blue eyes. She finished undressing and pushed aside the curtain.
Answers could wait until she’d woken up.
##
After her shower, Molly called Rausch to confirm the viewing would start that afternoon. Rausch informed her that the body was prepared, and she silently thanked him for not saying that her sister had been embalmed. She hung up, dressed in a silk blouse and a pair of black slacks, and went to pay her respects.
Rausch Funeral Home was at the outskirts of town, flanked on three sides by trees. Mount Blaine, the island’s peak, seemed to rise directly behind the building and gave the impression that the funeral home was built into the side of the incline.
Molly pulled into the circular driveway and parked in the back, where mourners usually parked during services. By the time she got out of the car and walked to the front door, a thin, older man was waiting at the open double doors for her. His copper beard was full and going gray at the chin, giving him the appearance of being muzzled. He wore a black suit that managed not to look somber.
The man's eyes widened slightly when he got a good look at her face -- that was to be expected -- but he at least was able to cover his surprise well. “Miss Page,” he said in a low voice. “I’m James Rausch. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”
She wanted to say it was a pleasure to meet him, but the words died in her throat. He didn’t seem to notice her hesitation and led her inside. “Your sister is in Viewing Room One,” he said, indicating a wide door directly across from them. He led her halfway across a small sitting area and stopped as if he’d hit a barrier. “I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”
“Okay. Thank you,” she said. He stepped aside and disappeared into the glass-walled office to her right. She watched him sit behind his desk and then faced the louvered Viewing Room door. Beyond the half-open folds, she could see two plush chairs flanking a table with a small lit lamp. She walked to the edge of the door and hesitantly peered inside.
The casket was nice, as far as that went. Oak, she guessed, with gold handles. She knew nothing about caskets, but it looked nice. That was good. She took a deep breath and shoved her hands into her pockets. The casket was open, but from her angle all she could see was the white satin that lined the inside of the lid. She forced herself to step fully into the room and then turned around to face her sister.
Everyone always said it looked like the deceased was just sleeping. That was a lie; sure, her eyes were closed, but April never slept on her back. She’d slept curled up, her hair hanging in her face, mumbling occasionally and chewing on her thumbnail. Her skin was never this waxy, her eyelids never this still.
She wore a silver necklace that Molly had never seen before around her neck, disappearing into the lace collar of her blouse. The blouse itself had pearl buttons running down the center of her chest and was nothing April would have worn in life. Somehow the sight of her wearing it brought the reality of the situation home.
April was dead.
Molly stepped forward and rested her hand on the edge of the casket. She was surprised to find her fingers were trembling. “Well, Ape. I guess...God.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “How could you leave me like this? You always promised you’d be back. What...wh–what am I supposed to do now? Huh?” She sighed and brushed her sister’s hair. It was like touching a mannequin, and she withdrew her hand quickly. “It’s going to be weird. I keep...I keep trying to grab the phone and call you to say how crazy this all is. I’m going to miss you. I’m never going...to be the same.”
She bent down and kissed April’s eyebrow. She moved her lips down to April’s ear and whispered, “Ail of aa.” It was their language, cultivated through their pre-school days, and it had been used whenever they had something they wanted to keep “super-special secret.” This time, it was a simple message: “I love you.”
She kissed April’s cheek again and straightened. She stroked her sister’s hair to make sure she hadn’t mussed the curls. She left the Viewing Room, glanced towards Rausch’s office, and left without saying good-bye to him. She didn’t know the etiquette, but she was sure he would understand if she didn’t tell him she was leaving. She went back out into the sunny morning, the clouds of yesterday having all dispersed and left the sun to beat down on her as she searched her purse for her keys.
She didn’t see the small red car parked at the edge of the driveway until she was already driving past it. Even then, she simply assumed it was another mourner coming to see someone else.
Chapter Two
“Right. Tomorrow. The funeral will be at noon, and the burial will follow right after. There will be a procession, yes. Okay. Thank you. Thank you.”
Molly hung up the phone and stared vacantly out the window, tapping the end of her pen against her notepad. She watched the street the way everyone watches something as familiar as the street outside their own house. It seemed abnormally empty, save for a small red car that drove slowly past. Usually there were kids across the street, people out in their driveways working on cars or shooting hoops at garage-side basketball goals. Today, there was nothing but a faraway dog wouldn’t shut up.
She had called the last name in her address book, the last person who had known April who might want to pay their respects. With that done, she wasn’t sure what else she was supposed to do before the funeral. Was she supposed to stay at the funeral home and greet people as they came in? She wondered if that was why she slipped out when Rausch wasn’t around; maybe she was afraid he would tell her it
was common practice for her to stay when she just couldn’t. She couldn’t bear the thought of being in that building with her...with what used to be her sister, lying in that box, any longer than necessary.
She pushed the phone away and thumbed through the address book again. Their childhood pastor, the high school English teacher that April credited for getting her interested in teaching, an old neighbor they had kept in touch with for years after the family had moved away, had all been called. April was definitely loved, but the funeral would have that awkward reunion feel to it: people who had nothing in common beyond the woman in the box forced to mingle and eat crappy food.
The phone rang, and she answered without thinking. “Molly Page,” she said, assuming it was someone calling about the funeral arrangements.
“Moll. It’s Shane.”
“Hi,” Molly said. She continued to thumb distractedly through the address book. She suddenly realized it was Shane and said, “Oh. Do you need me to come in?”
“No,” Shane said, a nervous laugh in her voice. “I’m on break. I wanted to call and see how you were doing.”
Molly shrugged. “Weird. I’m...there are times when I feel like I’m about to fall down and throw up, but there are other times when I just...I feel...”
“Was it something you ate?”
Molly frowned and then realized Shane had no idea why she was absent. “Oh. No. I...my sister died two days ago.”
Shane gasped. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. Should I let you go, or...?”
“No,” Molly said quickly. “No, uh...I’ve been talking to veritable strangers all morning. It’s nice to hear a familiar voice.” She was surprised to find it was true; even though she’d been cursing Alexander Graham Bell for the past hour, she was actually looking forward to talking to Shane. She reclined on the couch and pulled her feet up, tucking them under herself.
“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. Was she older or younger?”
“Older. Two minutes.”
Shane paused. “Oh! I...I didn’t know you were a twin.”
Molly smiled. “I don’t tell a lot of people. She was the popular one, so...I kind of kept it under wraps whenever I could.” She looked out the window and saw the same red car that had passed earlier driving by in the opposite direction. She stood up and walked to the window, leaning against the curtain and staring out. The car was sitting at the stop sign, right-turn signal blinking.
“Molly? You there?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Listen, do you need anything? Someone to talk to or...I just...you haven’t seemed like yourself lately. It makes a lot more sense now, of course...”
“I’m just in shock, Shane. I’ll be fine.” The car finally turned the corner and disappeared behind a hedge. Molly walked back to the table and pressed her foot against it. “I was thinking about coming in for lunch. Would you cook for me?”
Shane laughed. “Sure. What do you want?”
“I don’t know. Surprise me. I’ll be in around, um. Around three, I guess.”
“I’ll have it ready.”
They said their good-byes, and Molly hung up. She was about to turn around when a flash of red outside caught her eye. The red car was back, this time almost idling in front of the house. But by the time Molly reached the window, the driver had already sped up and was driving away. She pressed her lips together and sighed.
Tourists usually didn’t come out this far into the town proper, but it was known to happen. And when they left the neat and tidy lines of the tourist map, they tended to weave up and down the residential streets like rats in a maze with no cheese. She pulled the curtains shut and decided to leave the poor, lost tourist to his or her own devices.
##
The hostess’ normal smile spread into a more natural expression as she saw who was coming through the front door. “Ms. Page! How lovely to see you! Are you dining alone tonight?”
“Yes,” Molly said. Every time she’d ever come to the restaurant to eat, she’d been alone, but the damn perky teenager kept insisting on making sure.
The girl pulled a menu from the slot at the side of her podium and said, “Right this way.” Molly smirked at the girl’s back. What possible good would a menu do her? She was the damned chef! She knew every single thing on that menu. She sighed as she was led through the restaurant to one of the window seats. It was still too muggy to sit outside, but the window seats were a nice alternative. They were probably the best seats in the restaurant, so Molly felt a little bad about being so short with the hostess.
“Thank you,” she said as the girl placed the menu in front of the chair.
“Someone will be right with you,” the hostess said. She tossed her head, her ponytail arching out the punctuation to their conversation as she returned to her post.
Molly took a seat and pushed the menu aside. She scanned the restaurant and saw her choice of lunchtime had been wise. There were very few customers in the restaurant; a few tourists sat at the bar and a couple of businessmen lingered over their finished meals.
She took the time to admire the restaurant, what she thought of as her restaurant. A pale golden glow came from the sconces on the wall, but the dining room relied more on the natural light coming in through the windows. The walls were a muted gray, with a handful of paintings here and there, but the decorations were purposely subdued to draw the diner’s eye to the beauty of the harbor outside.
She was peering out the window and wondering if she should announce her presence to the kitchen when someone lightly touched her shoulder. She turned and saw Shane behind her, wearing the white smock and toque of the chef’s uniform. “Ready to eat?”
“Famished,” Molly said.
Shane said, “Well, your meal is going to take another couple of minutes, so do you want anything to drink?”
“Iced tea.”
“I’ll send the waitress over.” Shane slipped away, and Molly turned her attention back to the harbor. She watched the sailboats moving back and forth across the water, saw their sails rippling in the breeze, and remembered the last time she had been on one of the little boats. She remembered the salt on her lips, the wind in her hair and...
...April swayed on the deck, her fingers wrapped in the rigging over her head. Her hair was loose, as always, whereas Molly had tied her curls into pigtails. April’s hair had grown out since last Molly saw her, and it looked almost normal. They were completely identical, other than their hairstyles and their outfits. They were both wearing swimsuits, modest one-pieces in blue, for April, and red. Molly was the only one wearing a lifejacket. April turned, her feet slipping over the wet deck in the boat sandals she wore. “Spoil sport.”
Molly glared at her. “Just because we’re having fun doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous.” She was being very careful, letting April dictate the tone of their reunion. So far, that tone had been one of denial. That was fine with Molly.
“It’s whale-watching,” April said. She rolled her eyes and gestured out at the water. “Live a little. This might be the last chance we have to do this together. You should enjoy it.”
“What do you mean, last chance,” Molly said. “We can go whale-watching any time we want, once you get your stuff here. And even if we come out here every single day, I’ll still tell you to put on your damn lifejacket.”
“Yeah,” April said softly. Her smile wavered, and she turned back to Molly. “Look, Molly, this isn’t just about whale-watching.”
“Then what’s it about?” Molly asked. She was distracted, unaware of the change in April’s tone as she tried to untangle the clasps of April’s unused lifejacket.
April used the boom to walk her way over and sat next to Molly. She took her hand and said, “Molly.” Molly looked up. “I’m not moving back to the island.”
“Of course you are,” Molly said, suddenly worried. “We were going to live together and...I’ve already gotten that apartment...”
“And you would have to cover my par
t of the rent for the first couple of months. Or years. There aren’t any teaching jobs on the island, Molly. You know that. I’ve been looking. I don’t want to be a substitute, and I don’t want to be a burden on you.”
Molly leaned forward to grip her sister’s hand. “I don’t mind. I want you here.”
“I know. But I have to be somewhere I’m needed. I won’t be happy here.”
“I won’t be happy without you.” Molly whispered. She wrapped her arms around April’s neck and wept, because she knew it was already a done deal. She’d enjoyed her freedom in college, but the thought that got her through the hard nights was that she and April would be reunited in a few years and things would go back to normal.
Now...now...
...now, her food was arriving.
She straightened in her chair, realizing that she had been about to drop off to sleep, and smiled as the waitress placed her food in front of her with a flourish. “There you are,” the waitress said. “Can I get you anything else, Molly?”
“No, this will be fine. Thank you.”
Shane had chosen to make the Chicken Gorgonzola salad. Penne pasta, romaine lettuce, chicken breast and honey-roasted pecans in barbeque vinaigrette. Molly pushed the pasta around on her plate and began eating.
When she was halfway through, Shane reappeared from the kitchen and gestured at the empty seat across from her. Molly nodded, and Shane took a seat. “So? How is it?”
“Perfect. I’m no longer nervous about you taking over while I’m gone. I am a little worried about my job being here when I get back...”
Shane laughed. “I’ll make sure Clifton doesn’t promote me in your absence, promise.” She hesitated and crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, if it’s none of my business, tell me to shut up and I will. But...how was the funeral home? I mean, seeing your sister is one thing, but your twin...”
“It was bizarre,” Molly admitted. “It felt like a dream, you know? I’ve been used to seeing myself when I look at her all our lives, but that...” She shuddered slightly and put her fork down. She sipped her iced tea and turned her gaze towards the window. The harbor was choppy, and the sailboats were starting to return to their slips in anticipation of a possible storm.