Malcolm sat next to me at the bar. I rarely ever got this drunk, but Lynn was gone and Mal had called, and I couldn’t figure out a reason not to go. Sitting with Mal beat being alone, and the burn of the alcohol beat the feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right.

This time, Lynn had been gone for forty-eight hours, and not one of her friends had come to see me. Not one of them had graced me with her presence. I missed them. I missed her.

“She’ll be back soon,” Malcolm said. “She always comes back.”

“When?” I shouted. I said it loud enough that several people turned to look at me. I brought my voice down a few notches. “When? When will she come back? Or one of the others? They never leave like this. Not all of them. One of them is always here.”

“Have you seen Shelly?”

I snorted. “I see her every-fucking-where I look. But she’s not the one I want to see. Or the other ones I want to see.”

“Can I ask you something about that?” Malcolm said. He winced and I knew he was worried about asking.

“Ask me any-fing,” I slurred. “I’m an open fucking book.” I propped my elbow on the bar and set my chin in my palm, because my head was suddenly too heavy to hold up.

“When you’re with them, do you ever feel guilty?” he asked. He winced again, almost like he’d hoped he could bite the words back. But it was too late.

“No. I never feel guilty. Not anymore.”

“But you did, early on?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I felt like an asshole. Here I washhh, a smart man wif a beautiful girlfriend, and I coulda said no fank you, I don’t want to fuck four beautiful women. I just want my one beautiful woman. But my woman, she wasn’t just one woman. She was four of ’em. She was four fucking p-people. Why wash she four people? Because her father was a shadis… shadis…” I stopped and stared at Mal. “What’s the word?”

“Sadistic?” he supplied.

“Shadistic. That’s it.” My chin fell off my palm and I had to reset it.

“Her father was sadistic?” Malcolm prompted.

“He was a shadistic bassstard who made my beautiful Lynn split into four beautiful women. And what’s bad is that I want to fank him. Why? Because I luf all of them. Every. Last. One.” I picked up my drink and tipped it up, but most of it ran down the sides of my mouth. Malcolm lifted the tail of my t-shirt and wiped my face with it.

“We had better get you home, dude.”

“Home?”

“Yeah, you know that place where you live with Lynn? The love of your life? And the three other loves of your life? That place. Let’s go there.” He grabbed my elbow and helped me to stand. I fell back onto the barstool.

“I might oughtta stay here a sec,” I said.

Malcolm motioned toward the bartender. “Can I get a cup of coffee? Strong?” he asked.

The bartender gave me a look and came back with a steaming cup of hot coffee. Malcolm reached into my glass and took some ice cubes from it, and dropped them into the cup. “Fanks,” I said.

“I’ve never seen you get this shit-faced, dude,” Malcolm said.

I knew it. It was usually me holding Mal’s head over the toilet, wiping the puke from his face, and cleaning up his mess.

“I fink it was my turn,” I replied with what I hoped was a grin.

Mal laughed. “I think I owe you a few.”

I drank my coffee and felt a little better.

“You ready to go?” Malcolm said.

“You should go on home,” I said, standing a little better on my feet after the coffee. “You got a wife and baby to tend to, you lucky fuck.”

“Why did you say it like that?”

“A wife and baby? That’s my dream, dude.”

“You want children?”

I nodded. “Pieces of me and Lynn. Damn straight.”

He laughed. “You can have that, man. You’d just have to manage it.”

“Too hard,” I replied. “It would be too much.”

“For you or for Lynn?” He stared at me as we walked back to my apartment.

“Both.” I took in a breath. The night air was cold and it stung my lungs. “And the rest of them.”

“You worry about all of them, don’t you?”

“Yes. All the time.”

I let myself into the apartment. Malcolm followed me in. “Go home, dude,” I said. “Thanks, but go home. I’m not even feeling pukey. I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I made a quick jerk of my head, but the room started to spin.

“I’m going to go stink up your bathroom before I go. Those tacos aren’t sitting too well.”

“Let yourself out when you’re done, will you? I’m going to sleep.”

“Yep.” He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I walked into my bedroom, and my heart soared when I saw the lump beneath the covers, And hair the color of honey draped across my pillows. Lynn was home. I quickly got undressed and slipped between the sheets. I grabbed Lynn’s warm body and pulled her toward me. Naked skin skipped across mine.

She opened her eyes, and I could see her in the glow of the streetlight through the open window. “Fuck,” I said. I pushed back, stumbled from under the covers, and stood up beside the bed, holding a pillow over my junk. “What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

Shelly sat up and let the sheets puddle around her waist, her breasts standing tall, her nipples dusky pink in the pool of light.

Suddenly, the overhead light turned on. I looked up, and my heart nearly burst from my chest when I saw Lynn standing in the bedroom doorway. She froze. Her mouth dropped open. Shelly yanked the covers up to cover her breasts.

“What’s going on?” Lynn asked.

I was stunned speechless. I knew what it looked like. And I also knew what it wasn’t.

“I didn’t think you’d be home yet,” Shelly said, scrambling to grab a t-shirt from the floor so she could pull it over her head.

“Well, that’s obvious,” Lynn said. She looked over at me. I still held the pillow to my junk. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Shelly began, still scrambling around.

“No.” I held up a finger. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

“It looks like Shelly’s in my bed.” She tilted her head. “Why is Shelly in my bed?”

“Fuck if I know,” I said, suddenly feeling defeated. I sat down on the edge of the bed. “I just got here.”

The bathroom door opened down the hall and footsteps sounded on the hardwood. “Oh, holy fuck,” Malcolm said, his gaze jumping from Shelly to Lynn and back again. “You’re both in the same room.”

“Not for long,” Lynn said. She picked up her purse and turned to leave.

“Wait!” I cried. “Don’t you dare leave me with her!”

Lynn stopped walking. She looked at Malcolm. “What’s happening here, Mal?” she asked. “Why was Shelly in my bed?”

“Dude,” he said, turning to stare at me with wide eyes. “She was in your bed?”

I nodded, still holding the pillow over my junk.

“Lynn,” Malcolm said, “we just got here. Nothing happened. I’m sure of it.”

“Did anything happen?” Lynn asked me.

“I rolled over and thought she was you, and then I saw her face and realized she wasn’t. Then you walked in. That’s it. That’s all that happened.”

She turned to face Shelly. “And what do you have to say about all this?”

“It was a poor decision on my part,” Shelly said quietly.

“It was a poor decision on my part,” Malcolm mocked, lifting his voice to a higher pitch. “You’re such a cunt.”

“You liked this cunt when you were pounding it,” she tossed back.

His face colored, but he didn’t say anything else.

Lynn closed her eyes, sucked in a breath, and held it much longer than I’d ever have thought possible. She let it out slowly, and finally I felt like I could breathe again.

“Shelly, I don’t ever want to see you again,” Lynn said. “Get out.”

“But—” she protested.

Lynn pointed her forefinger toward the door.

Without a word, Shelly went to the bathroom, changed back into her clothes, and then she left. Lynn didn’t speak to her again after that night. The alters went to see her. But Lynn… Lynn wouldn’t have anything to do with her.

Being separated from her twin nearly killed Shelly.

If only we could be so lucky.