Ari
“Where the hell were you last night, Ari?” Claire asks, hanging half upside down on my bed.
Her arms extend down towards the floor, skimming lightly over the top of the white carpet. The button up top of her burgundy pajamas dangles down over her.
“Keeping tabs on me now?” I murmur back, meeting the eyes of my twin in the mirror.
You never get used to it, really, having a reflection of yourself around all the time.
You get used to picking out the tiny details that no one else would see, just to reassure yourself that you’re still your own person. Her hair is a half inch longer, her eyes have a single gold fleck in them, the corners of her mouth curl when she’s pissed.
Claire rolls her eyes, flopping over onto her stomach to peer over the magazine resting at her side. She flips the pages, eyes flickering across the pages of country recipes without interest. I watch her quietly, studying her skinny arms and the pop of her collarbone. We’d always been on the slender side, but Claire looked emaciated. Was she even eating?
Feeling my eyes on her, she sighs and looks back to me cagily, “I feel like I have to keep tabs on you. You did vanish for a few months last year. Remember that? One day you were just gone. You show back up months later saying you were working?”
“I took a job.” I snap quietly, “I did what I had to do. You know how scarce money is for us right now.”
“Is that what last night was too?” She crawls to her knees, hands planted firmly on the mattress, “A job? In that tiny dress and sky high heels. Where did you go, Ari?”
I whirl in the swivel chair in front of the vanity, angry, burning words leaping up my throat so fiercely I can feel them claw at my tongue. I bite them back, pursing my lips. We couldn’t turn on one another. Not with the parents we have. The situation was dark enough.
“Mom and Dad are going to be pissed if we miss brunch.” I finally force through gritted teeth, running a brush too roughly through my long hair. It yanks at my scalp, making me wince.
Claire doesn’t respond, sliding off the bed to leave the room. Across the hall of the tiny apartment we share, her door slams shut as I collapse over my desk, face in my exhausted hands.
Every day seemed to get harder and harder. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did, everything seemed to fray at the edges. Claire and I had always been best friends, two halves of the same coin, but lately… I didn’t even know her anymore.
I wasn’t the only one sneaking around.
~~
Twenty minutes later, the gentle bubble of our coffee pot echoes down the hall and Claire digs mugs from the cabinet. The ceramic cups clink and jangle as she searches for ones that are clean, without the tiny black specks that our ancient dishwasher leaves all over anything. Our items are sparse, collected from thrift shops and the local Salvation Army. If our parents knew, they’d be mortified. Then they’d make me spend even more of the money we didn’t have to furnish our apartment like we were the Olsen twins.
The brewing fragrance draws me from the room like a roasted, bitter fishing line. By the time I step into the kitchen, Claire is pouring two steaming cups of Joe and my eyes are practically watering with desire. I hadn’t slept well last night, not with the craziness of seeing Noah again, or his offer. The blood in my veins had turned to pure adrenaline by the time I’d showered and crawled into bed. My eyelids were heavy but my heart thundered in my ribs.
It was only hours later that the tears started. I’d been a hair’s breadth away from belonging to a man named Doyle Sheek. I’d had to shower again at four in the morning to try and wash away the last traces of his damp fingertips on my body.
“Thanks.” I offer uncertainly as I take the mug from my sister, our gazes meeting over the rims of our mismatched cups.
As usually happens, Claire’s outfit is an unintended mirror of my own. Similar light blue floaty blouses over tight, white pants. Her offended eyes sweep over my outfit, lips screwing up to the side as she sucks in a breath.
She hates when we match.
“You still have time to change.” I grin.
“Are you smoking again?” She counters abruptly, gripping the bright purple mug in her clammy palms, “I smelled it on you last night.”
Freezing mid sip, my eyebrows shoot to my hairline, “…Wait, what?”
“Are you smoking again?” She repeats, more slowly, more deliberately. Her eyes narrow on me with the same intensity of Doyle last night, trying to suck the truth from my pores. Just like him, she’s not going to believe anything that I say. Her opinion has already been sealed in concrete.
This time, however, I wasn’t planning a lie. Not to Claire. Never to Claire.
“No!” I respond quickly, whirling on my heel and grabbing the purse that’s been sitting on the table all night. I dump it onto the table over the pounds of junk mail and pizza coupons, gesturing at the scattered contents, “No cigarettes. I dropped that habit when I took that job a few months ago.”
I’d quit cold turkey, throwing my pack of cigs out the Uber window as we drove to the airport. I’d only started the habit because Claire was so against it, not that I would ever admit that to anyone.
She steps closer, running her finger across the half empty bag of swirly red mints, “Still doing that crazy thing?” She asks quietly, almost smiling.
“Candy over nicotine.” I chuckle limply, shrugging my shoulders, “It’s the only thing keeping me from smoking.”
“Either way you’ll rot your teeth.” She replies with a smirk, tilting her head back to sip on her coffee. Her long hair spirals down her back, more curly than mine. No matter how much I tried using a curling iron on my thick hair, I’d never been able to get that same pretty style. My locks stayed straight as pins.
“I, um, I ran into Noah James last night.” I finally whisper over the hum of our broken fridge. I hadn’t intended to share that, but being around my sister made my secrets spill like the coffee beans on the counter.
She chokes on the coffee before heaving forward and spewing it all over my blue blouse. Groaning, I grab a napkin and dab at the now brown polka dotted shirt. I guess it’ll be me who changes this time.
“Noah James? Like the guy you lost your virginity to, Noah James? Mr. Tall, dark, and handsome, Noah James? I’m so broody and quiet and serious, Noah James?”
I laugh, holding up my hands to stop her crazed rambling, “No, not that Noah James. The other one!” I tease.
She rolls her eyes, one hand on her hip as her foot taps the ground impatiently while I yank the shirt over my head and pout down at the coffee stains.
“Well, what did he say?! I need all the details. All of them!”
As much as I wanted to gush about the deal he and I were negotiating, I couldn’t tell Claire. Not yet. She’d try and talk me out of it and we needed the money badly. I finally decide on a careless shrug, clearing my throat.
“You know how he is. Same old, same old.”
Oh nothing, sis. Just asked me to marry him is all.
“He’s been all over the tabloids lately.” She grins, “I can’t help but feel a little satisfied every single time I see it after how he treated you.”
“Tabloids?”
She nods, licking her lips like she was in front of a big, delicious meal. There was little that Claire Dow enjoyed more than a juicy story. She inhaled city gossip like spring mountain air.
“I guess he’s been all wrapped up in scandal. Strippers, binging on booze… there’s even talk of him ripping off his clients. Like illegal felony level shit. Can you believe that? He was so uptight before.”
No wonder Noah needed me to help perk up his image so bad. Just what had he gotten himself into? Just what was he going to drag me into?
“That’s crazy.” I frown, nervous flutters bubbling up inside of me.
I was officially caught between a rock and a hard place. Maybe this deal wasn’t such a great idea? Sure, I’d get the cash we need… but how much was I going to have to go through in the process? It sounded like Noah was in serious trouble.
What a poker face. He hadn’t let on to any of that last night.
Maybe the jerk was hoping I wouldn’t know until after signing the contract.
Claire nods again, eyes wide and joyous, “Like I said. I’m happy. He deserves all the shit he gets.”
Oh god. How was I supposed to tell her about our deal now?
She’d find out eventually, there was no hiding anything from her.
But not yet, not until I made a final decision.
“We should get ready to go, huh?” I finally manage to say, whirling on my heel and heading towards my room.
She frowns at my back, twin-tuition prickling like a heat rash on the back of her neck. Before she has a chance to interrogate me, the doorbell rings and gives me some time to collect myself.
“I’ll get it.” She sighs, plunking her coffee cup on the counter while I toss my shirt into the hamper. It was more of a black hole than a laundry basket, we so rarely did our laundry. We had to go all the way across town to the hundred year old laundromat that only takes nickels.
Rifling through the closet, I half listen as the door creaks open. It was probably another Jehovah’s witness. They flocked to our apartment like moths to a flame. I’d actually spent thirty minutes inspecting our door last week trying to figure out what attracted them.
“Oh.” My sister says softly, “Um. What are you doing here?”
Our voices are identical. I know the troubled lilt of her strained voice. As quietly as I can, I grab a black tank top and tug it over my shoulders, edging closer to the doorway of my room. I press against the wall, listening as intently as I can.
“You said you’d have it by today, Dow.” A masculine voice that I don’t recognize speaks, the words raspy and tired, “Now I hear you’re trying to make a fool of me?”
“I need just a little bit more time…”
“Well I don’t have time.” He snaps back gruffly, “You get it to me by tomorrow or we’re going to have trouble - you and me. Is that what you want? Trouble?”
“Of course not-”
“Good. I’m glad we have an understanding. Have a lovely day, Claire.”
The living room goes quiet, not even the fridge making its clanging noises. The door creaks slowly shut, Claire’s sigh breaking the stillness.
I step out from my room, meeting her gaze across the closet sized apartment. Her tan face is pale, eyebrows scrunched up with worry over the brow of her nose.
“What was that?” I ask softly, her green eyes dropping to the ground.
She scuffs her foot, arms crossing tight across her stomach, clutching her elbows against her like she was trying to draw tranquility from her own touch.
“Claire…?” I murmur, chewing the corner of my lip. I pass my spilled purse and our cold coffee cups, wrapping my arms around her. Under my hands I feel the curve of her rib and the ridges of her spine. My eyes squeeze shut, desperately seeking answers, seeking anything.
What was going on with Noah? What was going on with my sister?
What the hell was I supposed to do?
“I made a mistake, Ari. I fucked up…”
“We can fix it.” I whisper into her hair, clutching my twin, my literal other half, against me. Her body trembles and it breaks my heart. I want to chase after the man who left and beat him in the face but I can’t bear to separate from my sister.
“I owe a lot of money to that guy. I don’t know… I don’t know how we can fix it. You’re already supporting Mom and Dad.”
“Don’t worry.” I murmur, eyes finally opening, “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
Noah. He was the only one who could help. There was no time to second guess our deal. It had to be done.
“God, Ari, we’re all so lucky to have you.” She whispers, clinging to me like a child clings to her mother.
I don’t say anything, rocking her in my arms.
~~
“For God’s sake, Ariana, do you have to get a milkshake everywhere you go? Where did this horrible sugar tooth of yours come from?”
Claire’s eyes meet mine across the table as our mother rips her napkin from the table and lays it in her lap, my twin’s eyebrows giving a near imperceptible wiggle.
A hearty, sweet milkshake was the only way I was going to get through this lunch without a drag. I was already eying the man a few tables down, the one with the half empty pack of cigarettes at his elbow. If I circled his table on the way to the bathroom, I could knock the pack off the table and swipe one.
“Your mother is right, you’re not a child anymore. You’re almost thirty.”
“We’re twenty four, Dad.” Claire snipes back, rolling her eyes as our mother huffs indignantly.
“Maxwell, I swear, we have raised the most ungrateful children…”
My father wraps an arm around his wife’s shoulder and nods, staring at me from behind his black glasses.
I bite back my harsh words, not pointing out the fact that they had basically no income and still kept their membership at luxurious beachside country club for me to figure out how to pay.
The balmy breeze sweeps over us, bringing chilly air from the gentle waves below. The silence is filled only by the delicate clink of china and the soft crash of waves on the shore.
I close my eyes, shutting out my parents and soaking up the subtle warmth of the afternoon. The sun hides between fluffy grey clouds, giving the occasional shy peek down at us.
“You missed your mother’s birthday.” My father says abruptly, coughing into a napkin before crossing his arms over his chest. When I open my eyes again, he’s glaring at me.
“I called.” I say simply, glancing towards my mom. I’d been out of state on a slightly less than legal business trip, I’d thought she’d be grateful for the cash I’d gotten for the job. But no, of course not.
She doesn’t meet my eyes, plunging her fork violently into her crab cake eggs Benedict.
Donna and Maxwell Dow, once the most powerful and affluent couple in our small but elite Maine town. Now they clung to their shreds of wealth in order not to become the mockery of every single other person here. Donna is a sun kissed slip of a woman, quick as a snakebite and just as dangerous. She narrows her keen olive eyes on her plate, probably plotting her revenge against me. Beside her, the bald shine of my father’s head reflects the sun. In minutes his face will be flushed red from the heat of the afternoon. My sister and I were lucky that we’d taken so much after my mother.
The country club waitress places my chocolate milkshake on the table as I take a long, obstinate sip, staring right at Donna. She glowers back at me, cheeks turning going pink.
“You’re going to get fat, Ariana. Have you thought of that? Your skin would be much clearer without all that sugar you consume.”
I don’t respond other than to suck loudly at the straw, ignoring the fact that I was acting like an ill-tempered two year old.
There wasn’t any way to argue with Donna and Maxwell, your words would fall on empty ears. Claire and I had learned early on that the only tactic of use was to drive them absolutely crazy. We were pretty freakin’ good at it too.
The breeze whirls again, making all four of us shiver. Fall was descending quickly over the grassy pastures and hills of Maine, but still our parents insisted on eating by the dunes of the sprawling beach. You had to pay extra for those seats, that was probably their angle. Never mind that I would be picking up the check.
“Oh!” My mother says suddenly, forgetting her rage and her breakfast. She claps her hands together, wiggling excitedly in her seat, “Maxwell, tell them!”
He clears his throat, coughing once more and shaking his head, “Ah. Girls. Your mother and I are investing in another startup. This one is sure to be a huge hit. You should see the estimated projections! And they only asked for a few hundred thousand as well!”
Claire drops her spoon into her steel cut oats, jaw dropping similarly to the table.
“How… How are you affording that?” I ask, chest so tight my lungs feel like they’re going to burst.
I already know how.
Me.
“Oh, we’ll move some of our stock around.” Maxwell beams, exchanging a happy glance with his wife.
I scoot backwards from the table, grabbing my purse and struggling to breathe.
“I’ll… I’ll be right back.” I sputter, shaking my head as Claire edges out of her seat as well. She sinks back down, watching me worriedly as I turn and dash towards the bathroom around the corner.
I plunge inside, sinking my back against the door and clutching my phone to my chest. While I peer under the stalls, I snatch a cinnamon candy ball from my purse and suck on it deeply, letting the fiery taste soak over my tongue.
It would be a miracle if I could keep away from the cigarettes with the stress my family was constantly hurling at me.
Sometimes I wondered why I did it. Then I imagined any of them out on the street. That couldn’t happen. My parents could be vile and nasty, but they’d raised me and provided for me and made sure I had everything I could ever want.
I would return the favor no matter what I had to do.
No matter who I had to turn to.
I dial with quivering fingers, thrusting the phone against my ear.
It rings for what feels like forever until finally it clicks.
“Hello?” That deep, velvety voice pours through the speaker of my cell.
My eyes drift shut as though I’m bathing in that single word, that one that shakes me to my core, that one that makes even breathing feel like a labor.
“Noah.” I clear my throat, listening to the faint draw of his breath on the other end of the line, “I need to see you. Now.”