Snakes

“Where in the hell did you get that thing?” Frida gasped.
I’d spent the past four hours digging through the patch of dirt across the street from our apartment complex. It hadn’t rained in a few weeks and it was hard diggin’. I didn’t think I would ever find a decent sized snake, everything I found was too small. I kept them anyway, but continued digging until I found Bird. He was big enough to please me. I pulled him out of his hole and shoved him into his new home, a Red Vines bucket with some rocks inside and air holes cut out on top. Oh yeah, and about six other little guys whose size didn’t quite earn them a name. Now some might consider it unladylike or even immature to catch snakes at my age. However, my very ladylike and mature biology professor told me to. So I did.
“This is a reptile,” she had said, holding her iguana high above her head for all to see. “This week you’re gonna learn what they eat.” I’d learned that Professor Dendric wasn’t really the learn by lecture sort of lady. So I was pretty intrigued. She set the iguana down, pushed her glasses a little further up on her long nose and began to explain the assignment–find a reptile–feed it–write it all down. She then pulled a dead moth out of the pocket of a dress that looked like she had worn to her high school prom fifteen years ago. Practically shoving it down the iguana’s throat, she looked up. “See. It’ll be fun.” She smiled enthusiastically as half the class rolled their eyes.
It wasn’t quite hot today, but I had been digging for four hours. I tend to sweat when that happens, so I decided it best to shower before rehearsal. I gathered up my tools, well tool: an inexpensive gardening trowel. I’d like to say I had a real shovel, but you can’t always afford such luxuries. As I headed home I thought about where to put my new friends. I didn’t want a roommate to find them before I had a chance to explain that they would be staying with us for a while. So I figured I’d just hide them under my bed until I got out of the shower.
I came home to an empty apartment. Reading the notes on the fridge, I learned that Katy’s sister would be coming to stay with her this weekend. So we’ll both have guests, I thought, smiling at my new friends.
I dashed to my room and flipped the blanket up on my bed. Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t shove everything under there when I clean my room. I probably should have brought my trowel to help rummage through all the junk I had under there. I shoved my math book a little farther back toward the wall and grabbed two t-shirts I hadn’t seen in weeks. Tossing them into the laundry basket, I noticed the time. I needed to be at the school in a little over an hour. I hurriedly slid the old licorice bucket under the bed and flipped the blanket back down.
While in the shower, I heard my roommate come in and collapse on her bed. This usually happens about 6:30 when she gets off work. Becky’s the kind of girl who can’t swim but dives in anyway. She’s always doing too much. Two jobs, twenty-two credit hours, president of the Sociology Club, the list goes on. And of course, she has a boyfriend, but I bet you that won’t last long. She has no time for him. He comes by at least twice a day when she’s not here. He actually spends more time with us roommates than he does with her. When I turned the water off, I could hear she was talking to someone but I didn’t know who. I came out of the bathroom to see that it was my roommate Frida, and she was sitting on my bed.
“Frida! Don’t sit on my bed. Oh no.”
“What? I…I’m sorry.” she said, standing up. “What’s going on?”
Still wet and wearing a towel, I leapt to my bedside and flipped up the blanket. Everything was fine. I guess I was all freakin’ out about nothing. The lid was in place, Bird and his little worms were still there, though hungry I imagined. “Sorry,” I said looking up at Frida. She had a slightly wierded-out look on her face, and her eyes were bugging out of her head a little bit. “I found some snakes today. I didn’t want them to get out.” I drug the bucket out from under the bed and held it up for both girls to see, proudly displaying my collection of ophidians. (I learned that word in Biology, nice huh?) That’s when Frida gasped.
“I found them across the street. The big one’s name is Bird.”
“What kind are they?” Frida asked.
“Just your typical garden snake. Nothing fancy, but I think they’re awesome.”
Becky just watched sourly as I opened the lid for Frida. She reached right in and grabbed one of the smaller snakes. It slithered its way up her arm until I screamed. Then she dropped it. “What?” she asked.
“There were six little ones plus Bird. Now there’s only five. One must have gotten out somehow.” I quickly grabbed the snake Frida had dropped and put it back in its cylindrical plastic house. Closing the lid tightly I noticed the glare on Becky’s face.
“Who said you could eat all the Red Vines to put snakes in the bucket?” she said
“It’s for a class. I have to monitor the diet of a reptile for a week. So I got some snakes.” I didn’t want to look at the clock but I did. “Oh man, I’m gonna be late for rehearsal.”
“You might want to get dressed,” Frida said, pointing at my towel.
“Yeah, probably,” I said and went to the closet to do just that, searching the floor for a rogue snake in the process. I had very little luck in either endeavor. Finally deciding on my Strawberry Shortcake t-shirt, I yanked it over my head and knocked over a shoe box full of Becky’s important papers. Bank statements, credit card bills, college transcripts, letters from friends, receipts from every purchase of her college life now littered the closet floor.
“Are you all right in there?” Frida asked.
“Yeah I’m fine. I just had a little bit of an accident.” Then I heard Weezer.
Followed by Frida, “Your phone’s ringing, Cal. It’s Steve.”
“Oh great,” I mumbled under my breath. So much for cleaning this up before Becky sees it. I opened the closet door, and Frida handed me my phone. Steve is my brother. He’s in the orchestra too, and of course, he needed a ride to rehearsal.
Now I had to clean up paperwork, find a snake, and pick up my little brother. I also had to be there in five minutes. “I’m so sorry Becky but I knocked over your box of bills and stuff. I’m picking them up.”
“Calli are you sure there were six little ones?” Frida said, “There’s no way a snake could get out of this thing.” She was holding the bucket upside down, shaking it savagely.
“It might have tipped over or something,” Becky said, rolling her eyes while pretending not to notice the chaos in the closet.
“If it tipped over they would have all gotten out.”
“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure there were six little ones. But whatever, I’m late for rehearsal.” I picked up my phone, my music book, and car keys. “Bye guys.” I hustled out of my bedroom and when I was about a foot from the front door…
“Don’t forget your violin,” Frida shouted from the bedroom.
###
The next morning, I woke up early. I’m not usually a morning person, but when you got snakes, you got a good reason to get out of bed. I went to my desk and pulled out the Ziploc bag full of dead bugs my teacher had given us to feed with. I knew it wouldn’t be enough for all seven—six snakes for a week, but I planned on getting some more. This morning, there were only five, Bird and four others.
“Becky,” I whispered to the mountain of blankets on Becky’s bed.
“What?” She sat up suddenly and shot me a look I’d only seen in horror movies. “It’s only six-thirty.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but one of my snakes got out.”
“Are you sure? That’s what you said last night.”
“Yes. There are only five this morning.”
“What?...I didn’t want you to have those stupid things in here anyway.”
“It’s for biology.”
“I know, but if they’re gonna get out, keep them outside.”
“Well, we’ve gotta look for it, I’ll feel so bad if Katy finds it.” Katy was a bit of a…well, we liked to call her a “Cowardly Kat.”
Becky was still half asleep, and I don’t even think she remembered our conversation. You’d think a loose snake in the apartment would be enough to wake any girl up, but not this morning. I proceeded to search every nook and cranny of the bedroom to no avail. After about half an hour, I gave up and decided to get ready for school. I went to the kitchen and left a note on the white board: One of my snakes got out. Don’t worry, it’s totally harmless. Oh and it hadn’t eaten in a while so it will probably be dead anyway. I said a silent prayer that Katy wouldn’t be the one to find the snake carcass in her bed. I don’t even know if Frida had told her about the snakes yet. She would be screaming for days.
I went back to the bucket and tossed in a few dead crickets. I decided it might be a bit sacrilegious to feed them the katydid after my prayer and all. Bird seemed to stare at them, but in a state of indifference, sat motionless as the other four snakes carnivorously devoured their prey. I made note of that in my little book of reptilian eating habits and hopped in the shower. Becky was gone when I got out.
After getting ready for the day I went to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before class. I noticed the couch cushions had been overturned and not quite returned to their correct positions. The note I had left on the white board had been responded to. If it’s not dead when I find it, it will be. Becky. At least she had only threatened the snake’s life and not mine. I borrowed a little bit of Katy’s milk. I was out and had to get some cereal in the stomach. I left her a little note too. Well, I didn’t really borrow it. I drank it, so she can’t have it back. Whoops.
On my way to class, I kept thinking about Bird, the biggest snake in the bucket, watching as the other snakes ate all the insects. It was beyond me. I eat when I’m hungry, that’s for sure, even if it requires stealing some milk once in a while. I’m sure Katy won’t mind, unless she finds the snake.
Classes were especially boring today, and I didn’t have my math book, which made it slightly hard to see which problem we were working on. Becky was home when I got there. Imagine that, Becky home before dark. “What ya up to?” I asked when I came in.
She was sitting on the floor in our bedroom. Markers were spread out around her, and she was drawing something on an already multicolored piece of paper. “Making a chore chart. Someone isn’t doing their dishes, and our bathroom is disgusting.”
“Oh, good idea.” I didn’t think our pad was that bad, but I’m certainly willing to help out if that’s what she wants.
“So, I didn’t get to shower this morning because you took too long,” Becky said, a stark look stretched across her face. “You usually get in right when you get up.”
“I was looking for my snake. I still don’t know where it is. I hope it turns up soon or Katy’s gonna have a heart attack.”
“Well you really might want to keep that bucket outside, just in case something else goes wrong. It’s a bad idea to have them in here.”
I looked at Becky’s chore chart and saw I had the bathroom this week and dishes on Fridays. She stared at me, probably waiting for me to move the snakes outside immediately. I lay down on my bed and looked at the ceiling. It had been a long day at school. As Becky drew hearts and flowers on the paper I couldn’t help but wonder why she was mad at me. I hadn’t really done anything. She was usually a little ornery about something though, so I dismissed it.
That night while I was watching The Office, I was distracted by a familiar knock at the door—Becky’s boyfriend, Dave. I let him in and told him Becky had gone to something for Sociology Club.
“Oh, hey. You can come in, but I’m not sure when she’ll be back.”
“Oh, yeah. I know, I just wanted to watch The Office so I thought I’d come over,” Dave said.
“Okay, yeah sit down.”
During the commercial break, I found out that Becky had broken up with Dave two nights ago. She had told him flat out that she was too busy for a boyfriend and she wasn’t willing to make time for him. Poor little Davey. After laughing our brains out over Jim shooting Dwight in the face with a spray bottle, I caught Dave staring at me. I looked back into his dark green eyes. He didn’t look away. I smiled at him and we both laughed.
“Oh, my, gosh. That was a good episode. Freaking hilarious,” I said with a laugh.
“Yeah, I love Dwight. He’s so funny.”
“Hey, did I show you my snakes?”
“No,” Dave said. “When did you get snakes?”
“Come see.” We made our way back to the bedroom. I flipped on the light and walked to the desk. At first glance there was nothing too unordinary. With a closer look though, we saw that one of the small snakes was sitting there not moving. The other three were off to one side of the bucket biting each other. Bird was between them and the dead snake. He lay with his head on top of it as if he were mourning the loss of a friend. Well, more like a little brother. Who plays with friends half their size?
“Oh my gosh! It’s dead. What happened? I’ve been feeding them.” I opened the bucket to remove the dead snake.
“Don’t open it,” Dave said, a look of repulsion suddenly appearing on his face.
“What? Are you afraid of snakes?”
“They’re not my favorite animal in the world.”
I reached in to grab the dead snake when Bird suddenly went crazy. He lunged for my hand, mouth open, ready to bite. I knew he wasn’t poisonous, but it caught me off guard. I screamed and Dave backed away. Bird was now thrashing around the bucket, his fangs bared, biting at nothing. The bucket started moving from the commotion and nearly fell off the edge of the desk. I snatched the lid and twisted it back on just in time to avert disaster.
“I told you not to do that,” Dave said, as he crawled his way back from across the room.
“Oh shut up, it’s fine. You were just scared.” I said giving him a playful push. I moved the bucket to the back of the desk and watched as Bird continued his convulsing.
“What’s wrong with the big snake?”
“I don’t know. He’s never done anything like that before. He’s usually really friendly.”
“Yeah, sure seems nice.”
“Maybe he’s upset the other snake died. I don’t know. I’ll talk to my biology teacher tomorrow.”
Dave reached his hand out and touched mine. I’m not sure why, but I let him. He looked at me again with his green eyes, and I couldn’t pull my hand away. Becky walked in and threw her backpack on her bed. She looked at Dave, then at me, then at our hands; then she quickly switched her focus to the snakes. “Why are they still in here?”
“Ummm…” I jerked my hand away from Dave’s and stood up as quick as I could. “Bird’s kinda freaking out right now. We’re not sure why,” I said, trying to minimize the awkwardness, “But one of the little snakes is dead.” As soon as I had said it, I realized that dead snakes sure don’t minimize awkwardness very well. We stood there in silence.
Becky stared at me. Her eyes stuck out all dark and beady, her eyebrows raised, making her face seem long and stretched. Her lips close together in a puckered, bitter sort of way. I was worried she was going to lunge at me like Bird did.
Dave was the first to say something. Well, he tried. Becky cut him off before he could get anything out. “I think you should go,” she said, then turned and walked into the bathroom.
“I’m sorry,” Dave said with a sigh.
“It’s not your fault, but maybe you better go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Umm, tell her nothing happened.”
“Don’t worry about it. Goodnight.”
“Bye.”
Becky didn’t speak to me that night. She stayed in the bathroom forever, and when she finally came out, she turned off the light and got into bed. Apparently it didn’t matter that I was reading my biology book.
###
The next morning the dead snake was gone. It couldn’t have gotten out, it was dead. Something was seriously weird with these snakes.
“Professor, are snakes cannibalistic?” I asked after class.
“Well, it depends on what kind of snake, but…I guess any snake could be. However, generally most are not.”
“Well I’ve been watching these snakes for the assignment, and I think one of them is eating the others. At first we thought they were just getting out, but then I found one dead in there, and its body was gone the next morning.”
“You didn’t take it out?”
“I tried but Bird, the bigger snake, started freaking out and tried to bite me.”
“Is this Bird usually violent?” she asked, making lunging movements at me with her two fingers of each hand as if they were fangs.
“No, he’s usually really playful actually.”
“Why don’t you bring them in and I’ll take a look, see what’s going on.”
“Well, should I take them out of the bucket?”
“No. Oh heavens no,” she said with a gasp, as if I had said something horribly wrong. “Just leave them in the bucket, keep observing their eating habits. If they’re eating each other, write that down. Maybe watch them more closely, and bring them by my office tomorrow. I’ll be here in the morning.”
“Okay, but Bird may be the only one left by then.”
###
Calli, please don’t drink my milk and what’s up with these snakes? Frida came downstairs as I was reading the note on the fridge.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
“Well, I think Becky’s pissed at me, and my snakes are eating each other.”
“Cool. Becky’s always pissed at someone, so don’t worry about it.”
The snakes seemed to be fine, all four slithering their way around the bucket. “See down to four,” I told Frida, pointing to the bucket.
“See, I told you they couldn’t get out of there. There was no way.”
I threw the snakes some more crickets. Frida and I watched as this time, Bird quickly slithered his way between the three snakes and the food. Bird began to agitate each of the snakes, nudging them with his head. They were all annoyed, and the third one snapped at him when he did it. Bird quickly moved away, and the snake ended up biting another small snake. Suddenly, the three snakes were lunging at each other from every direction. They went crazy. They were biting everything they could, their fangs bared, their fork tongues slipping in and out of their mouths. One of them wrapped itself around another, squeezing as tight as it could. I had never seen anything so exciting or scary.
I looked at Frida. She looked like she was in shock, staring at the snakes, completely fixated on them. After a few minutes, there were only two moving. Bird made his way back and carefully drug the motionless snake to the other side of the bucket and lay across it, just like he was doing the other night. I couldn’t believe it. My snakes were murderous cannibals. I thought about when I had first caught them, when they would slither calmly up Frida’s arm. How crazy is that? I mean these things were fine out in the wild on their own right, but you put em together in this bucket, and then all the sudden they just start turning on each other.
###
When Katy got home, I told her I was sorry. She said it wasn’t a huge deal; she’d just noticed some of her food missing and asked me not to eat anything else.
“So what’s going on with these snakes?” she said, a preoccupied look suddenly glazing over her face. “Is there still one on the loose, because my little sister is coming tomorrow.”
“No. I guess there never really was one on the loose. One of them has actually been eating the others.”
“Ew,” she said, “That’s disgusting.”
“I know. I’m taking them to my professor tomorrow.”
“It was the grossest thing I’ve ever seen,” Frida said, speaking for the first time since the snake fight.
“I hate snakes. They really creep me out,” Katy said, staring at Bird as he lay across the dead snake rubbing his head against a rock. Then after a pause she announced that she had homework to do and rushed off upstairs.
“Why do you think they did that?” Frida asked a bewildered look on her face.
“I don’t know. It makes no sense. I gave them enough food for the four of them. So it can’t be because theyr’re hungry.”
Frida seemed a little shaken up by the whole thing, so I turned on the TV to get her mind on something else. Becky walked in and went upstairs without a word. I guess she was talking to Katy. She still wasn’t talking to me. I felt bad for what had happened, but I really hadn’t done anything. Plus, she broke up with Dave anyway, not the other way around. After nearly twenty minutes, she came back down with a snooty smile on her face.
“Becky, I’m sorry about last night,” I said as she crossed through the living room to the kitchen.
“It’s fine,” she said without looking at me. “Don’t worry about it.”
For some reason I didn’t think she was too sincere.
“You need to get the bathroom done by tomorrow,” she said. She closed the fridge door and went back into our bedroom.
“What happened the other night?” Frida said, curious.
“Nothing, she just came in when Dave and I were talking, and it was awkward.”
Katy came back downstairs, glaring at me all the way down. I didn’t know what I had done now. She opened the fridge, then slammed it shut. “So, did you eat my pasta that was in the fridge Calli? I thought I just asked you not to eat my food.”
She sounded pretty hostile. I hadn’t touched her pasta. “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Whatever, don’t touch my food. And were you ever gonna do the dishes? It’s your day.” She motioned to the mound of dishes in the sink. I looked at the chart and sure enough, Friday – Calli. I looked at Thursday, empty. No wonder there were so many dishes.
“Yeah, I’ll do them. I’m sorry. I didn’t eat anything, I did use some milk the other day, but I’ll buy you another gallon if you want.”
“No, that’s fine.”
Frida and I looked at each other as Katy went back upstairs. I think it was the first time either of us had seen her mad. I went to the sink and saw my plate on top with the remains of what appeared to be some sort of pasta salad.
###
Dave called me Saturday morning. I didn’t answer because I was walking to campus with a bucket of snakes. Three snakes were all that remained now. Bird had of course eaten the other carcass. Ew. When I got to Professor Dendric’s office, I explained what we had watched the day before.
“So, he made them turn on each other. How very clever.” she said with a shrill laugh. “See, even though he’s bigger than them, if they were to stick together, he couldn’t have killed them. But if he can get them to kill each other, his job’s done. I imagine he’ll do the same thing with these two and then when it’s just one left, he’ll kill it himself.”
“What would cause them to turn on each other like that? I mean Bird kind of encouraged it, but they just went crazy.”
“Well, Bird got them all riled up, and really all it takes is one little thing and it’s kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. I mean don’t we all get mad over things so small they don’t even matter? We usually don’t end up killing over it, but obviously that’s different with snakes.”
Professor Dendric seemed a bit too entertained by all this cannibalism business. She was holding the bucket up in front of her face and grinding her teeth together at the snakes. I wondered if I should snap her back to reality.
“So what do I do now?”
“Just keep observing. I’m interested to see what happens myself. The only chance these two have at surviving is if they stick together. Let’s see if they’re smart enough to figure that out.”
###
I got home to find Frida sitting on the couch, eating some ice cream. I told her what my professor had said about the last two snakes. She ignored me.
“Why did you lie to me about Dave?” she asked.
“What?”
“You said the two of you were talking. According to Becky, there was a little more to it.”
“What? What did she say?”
“That you two were pretty cozy on the floor when she walked in.”
“He tried to hold my hand, nothing too cozy.”
“That’s not what Becky said, and if that’s the case, why didn’t you just tell me that to begin with?”
“Look Frida, I’m sorry, I didn’t think it mattered much, nothing happened.”
The washer stopped spinning now. Frida got up to put her clothes in the dryer. I went to my room to set down the snakes.
“Your clothes are in the dryer. You always leave them in there forever.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll come get them.” Too late. Frida came in and plopped the clothes down on my bed. I asked her why she was so mad at me.
“I’m not mad,” she said as she left the room to return to her laundry.
I heard some rustling in the bucket and looked down to see the last two snakes going at it. They were pouncing, lunging, biting, all of the above. I watched them, both struggling to survive, yet both unable to see how stupid their brawl was in the first place. They continued for about ten minutes. Then finally one snake went limp. The other released his grip and slithered its way over to a rock.
###
That afternoon, Katy went to pick up her sister, and Frida went shopping with Becky. I had some homework that I needed to get done and was glad for the quiet. Except, I couldn’t stop watching the snakes. Bird had eaten the dead one by now. The last snake was so weak that it didn’t stand a chance. I figured he needed some food but I knew what would happen if I gave him any. I reached into the bag. One cricket and a praying mantis left. I dropped the praying mantis in the bucket, next to Bird, hoping to distract him. Then I dropped in the cricket for the other snake. Surprisingly, Bird used his head to slide the bug over to the rock where the other snake lay motionless. He watched as the snake ate the cricket, swallowing it whole with one big gulp. When it advanced toward the praying mantis, Bird struck. He jerked forward and sunk his fangs into the snakes from behind. He repeated this action, lunging back and forth, each time sinking his long sharp fangs deeper and deeper into the snakes back. The little snake didn’t even turn to defend himself. He just lay there as Bird viciously attacked him.
He would have died anyway, but why did he give up so easily? I sat there and stared at Bird who now lay peacefully over his next meal. I somberly made note of the fight in my notebook and lay down on my bed. Now completely unable to concentrate on my homework, the words of Professor Dendric ricocheted through my head. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten.
Around 8:00 I heard my roommates come in. They started to put their food away in the kitchen.
I heard Becky’s voice “She ate it this morning. I saw her take it on her way out.”
Katy let out a sigh of aggravation. I rolled over and felt my back for fang marks. Nothing. I blocked out what the girls were saying. I tried to think of what to say to Becky. I didn’t want to roll over and die; I was determined to defend myself. I heard the creak of the door and looked up as Becky entered the room, a Walmart sack in her hand.
“Becky…I am really sorry,” so much for not rolling over and dying, “about what happened with Dave. I don’t know why you’re so mad if you broke up with him, but it won’t happen again.”
Becky shrugged her shoulders as if indifferent. “It really doesn’t matter,” she said. “Did you clean the bathroom?”
“Not yet, I’ve been trying to get some homework done.”
Becky rolled her eyes at me and went into the bathroom. A short while later she came out announcing that she had cleaned it herself.
“Well now you won’t have to worry about it.” She walked to the kitchen, and I could hear the sound of ripped paper. She returned with her chore chart, proceeded to tear it into little picees and threw it in the trash next to my desk. “I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed.”
I lay motionless as if dead for a few minutes then I looked at Bird. He had eaten his last remaining friend; he was all alone. He stared back at me, his fork shaped tongue slipping in and out of his mouth. The experiment was over, so I figured I’d let him go. I walked to the desk, picked up the bucket and headed outside. I stopped about a foot from the door and returned to the bedroom. After a second of contemplation, I opened the bucket and dumped its contents, snake, rocks, grass and all onto Becky’s bed. I pulled the blanket over to hide them from view. Then I picked up my cell phone, dialed Dave’s number and walked out of the apartment.

Miss Scarlet in the Dining Room with the Lead Pipe

The moment Clark saw it, somehow, he knew. At first he had shoved it out of the way, along with the computer mouse and the stack of children’s books. Yet laying there next to the blender, it had just seemed too familiar. Now, as he stared at the box, he tried to convince himself that it couldn’t be. Yet, he knew it was too much to be coincidence. The words, “Can I help you, Professor Thomas?” awoke him from his trance.
“Uh…” He said pensively, “No thanks.” He stared at the young worker for a moment; vaguely recognizing him from some accounting class he had taught last semester. He realized how lost he must have looked. Yet there he stood, in the small appliance section, with a board game in his hand. He quickly put it back on the shelf. “I was just contemplating a purchase. That’s all.” He said, sounding more scholarly than ever. He always tried to impress his students.
The moment the young man was gone, Clark’s mind returned to the game. He picked it up and headed to the check stand. He gave the cashier her four dollars, and she replied with a friendly, “Clue is one of my favorites, too.” Saying nothing, Clark took his receipt and stormed off toward the car. Leaving the store, he stepped out into the damp parking lot. It had been drizzling on and off all day. Clark looked up at the sky to see a small ray of sunshine peeking its way through the storm clouds. The fact that it wasn’t raining now gave him some slight ray of hope. However, all he could hope for was that he was wrong.
In the car, he searched through the game just as he had done in the store, and sure enough all pieces were present and accounted for, except the lead pipe. He noticed the bent corner; he flipped over the card. Miss Scarlet. And then he knew. This was definitely it.
As he pulled out of the parking lot, he took a quick glance at the Goodwill sign. Nothing good will come of this, he thought. The drive home seemed to take hours. The longest three blocks Clark had ever driven. The entire five minutes filled with questions . . . Could it be? After all these years, how could she? What would he say? He planned the whole thing out in his head. He would bring the game in and set it on the table. Then he would wait.
Seeing the game as she came into the kitchen, she would say something like, “Oh honey, I have to make dinner. Maybe we can play later.”
“Don’t treat me like a child,” he would say. He was always so much crueler in his imaginary arguments. “I don’t wanna play Julie. I want you to guess where I found our game.”
Denial would of course be her first tactic. He knew her well. She would laugh and say she hadn’t a clue, thinking she was the funniest thing ever. Then she’d make a few stupid guesses like the closet or the basement. “I told you I didn’t want to play Julie! You know damn well where this came from.” Then she’d cave in. She’d cry for sympathy which she wouldn’t get. Clark wouldn’t be budging this time. She had stooped low, but never this low.
As he turned the corner on to Silver Spur Avenue, he was abruptly snapped back to reality by the sound of children playing in the park. Rain or shine, they were there every Saturday. He noticed the boys, leaping around like super heroes, and the girls, prancing about as if they truly were the little princesses they were pretending to be. He recalled the days when it was so easy to pretend, a time when it was ok to lie to oneself. Back to days like yesterday, when he still thought Julie truly loved him. He could almost smell those memories of happiness. But looking at the game, they quickly faded back to harsh reality. Those days were over, he thought. There was no excuse for this.
He turned right and let his Honda Civic slowly creep up the steep driveway. Normally he parked in the garage but at the last minute he stopped his car and parked behind Julie’s Explorer. Just in case she tries to flee the crime scene, he thought. Opening the car door, he looked down at the lawn. It was far too long. Good thing it had rained or he would have been cutting the grass instead of running errands that afternoon.
The grass stealing his thoughts, he walked to the trunk of his car, and without thinking, there he left the game. He took out the purchases of his honey do list, a new blanket for Jake’s bed, a Swiffer duster, milk, eggs, and some orange juice. He headed to the house, all the while beating himself up because he hadn’t the courage to confront Julie about the game. And it had sounded so good in his head.
As he opened the bright red door, Clark instantly smelled it. The aroma of Julie’s mustard seasoned chicken invaded his nostrils like the Nazis invading Germany. She had made his favorite. This would make it hard for him to be mad at her tonight. He went to the kitchen and, while putting the orange juice in the fridge, stared at the oven timer. Thirteen minutes and forty-two seconds until Colonel Mustard’s chicken would be ready. He couldn’t wait. When he had finished putting away the groceries, he opened the Swiffer box and began to piece it together. That’s when his French maid came down the stairs.
Julie had her long brown hair pulled up in a pony tail. It bounced as she gracefully skipped her way down the stairs. She was a beautiful woman, despite her simplicity, or perhaps, because of it. Still in her pajamas, she looked as cute as ever. “Oh, you got the Swiffer? I love you, honey,” Julie said, watching his unsuccessful attempts at assembling the Swiffer. She walked to the oven and turned on the light to check on the chicken. Clark leaned so far back on his barstool, he hardly caught a glance at the chicken before falling flat on his back.
“Honey! Are you all right?”
“Yeah I’m fine. It’s this Swiffer. I give up,” he said as he picked up the barstool. “I can’t put it together.”
“Well don’t kill yourself over a duster. I’d rather have a husband than be a widow with a Swiffer,” she said jokingly. Clark faked his best laugh while holding back thoughts of the
widowed Ms.White. All he could think about was Clue, and she hadn’t a clue.
“Where’s Jake?” he asked, finally noticing how quiet it was.
“He’s at the park.” Surely he had been one of the capeless crusaders Clark had seen on his way home. “He should be back soon. I told him dinner would be ready at 5:00.”
“Well good, I’m starving and it smells delicious.” He told himself to stop being nice, but he couldn’t help it.
“I talked to your mother today,” Julie said, opening a can of green beans.
Clark stared at the can opener. “Mr. Clark in the kitchen with the can opener,” he said, thinking out loud.
“What?” she said looking up.
“Nothing. What did my mom have to say?”
“She wants to fly out and visit next month,” she said, after putting the green beans in the microwave. “She said she hasn’t seen Jake in months, and we don’t seem to be doing anything about it. So she’s coming out here herself.”
“Well did she say when?” Clark asked, without thinking. His thoughts were elsewhere. He could care less about his mother right now. Blankly staring at Julie his mind was in the game closet searching, scavenging through the disorder of games, desperately trying to find it; to convince himself she hadn’t really done it.
“Around the twelfth. We’ll have to plan something fun to do while she’s here.”
“Yeah. Fun. When was the last time we played a board game with Jake? When was the last time we even opened the game closet? I bet it’s a complete mess,” Clark replied.
“What? Oh. I cleaned it out last week. Jake wanted to play Chutes and Ladders, and he wouldn’t stop whining until I tore the whole closet apart to find it.” Julie was preoccupied with dinner, and Clark decided it was the perfect time to do a little investigation.
He walked across the kitchen, kissed his wife, and went upstairs to the bedroom. He could not believe what he had just heard. She had cleaned out the game closet? There was no doubt in his mind now.
He snuck across the hall to Jake’s room. He opened the game closet, half expecting his wife to be inside, waiting there silently, ready to shoot him with the revolver. Impressed with the tidiness of the closet, he almost smiled. Then he remembered why he was there. Scanning the games, he saw exactly what he had expected; Life, Scene It?, Chutes and Ladders, Monopoly, Connect Four, hundreds of others, but no Clue.
He told himself he shouldn’t have looked. He told himself there was a perfectly good explanation for all of this. He went to the bathroom where he splashed his face with cold water. It did nothing to calm his nerves, and now he was cold.
He stopped for a moment at the top of the stairs. Watching admirably as his wife hummed and danced her way around the kitchen, preparing his favorite meal. He was still quite impressed at the game closet. As he came down the stairs he looked around, and noticed the entire house was spotless. Julie had no doubt spent all day cleaning. “The house looks amazing, dear,” he said. Again he told himself he was being far too nice. The clean house certainly did not make up for what she had done.
As he entered the dining room, it was clear that something was wrong. “Are you okay hun?” Julie asked, “You seem a little tired.”
“I’m fine, dear. I was just thinking.”
“About what?” she asked. Then without giving him time to answer, she responded for him, “Certainly not about the bathroom sink. Weren’t you going to fix that this weekend?”
In his rage he had completely forgotten about the sink. He thought of the flooded mess he would have to clean up later. Yes, later. Now he had other things to do. “Oh. I was going to get a pipe for it this afternoon. I knew I had forgotten something.”
“Well, it would be nice if you could take care of it soon.” Julie said, taking the chicken out of the oven.
“You know honey, it’s our anniversary on Monday,” Clark said.
“Yeah.”
“Well I was thinking, maybe we should do something special. Ten years is quite an accomplishment.”
“What did you have in mind?” Julie asked.
“I was thinking we could have a little re-enactment of our first date. Wouldn’t that be fun? We could go to dinner at that old Italian place. What’s it called now?”
“Signore Verde’s?”
“Yeah. And then I was thinking we could go see a show down at The Regal. I think they’re doing Taming of the Shrew. Shakespeare, just like our first date. And then after that we could come home and play a board game or something.”
Julie, who was now setting the table, looked up, surprised and confused. “A board game? What?”
“Yeah, you remember don’t you? Our first date, we went to dinner, saw Twelfth Night at The Regal, and then we went over to George’s and played games until three in the morning.”
“That’s right. I remember. We played Parcheesi and I beat you. I was so proud of myself,” she said, placing the chicken on the table.
“And we played Clue, too. Remember?” Clark said, trying his best to pay close attention to Julie’s reaction; however, she had distracted him with her chicken. He couldn’t think clearly. The sweet aroma of mustard was far too much for him to handle.
“Yes dear, I remember. How could I forget? You loved that game!”
“We still have the same game around here somewhere. We could play a little game of Clue. What do you think, sweetie?”
“Well if we can find it,” Julie said tensely, cutting up the chicken.
“But you just cleaned out the game closet. Didn’t you?”
“Well I guess it’s in there somewhere. I think it sounds wonderful, honey.” Changing the subject she replied, “We’ll have to get a sitter for Jake. Maybe I can take him over to Michelle’s, and he can play with Hayden.”
“It’s really coming down out there. Should I go get him?” Clark said, noticing the pouring rain. He watched it drip down the window. It reminded him of the blood he felt trickling down his back where his wife had just stabbed him. He stood up and started to put on his coat. That’s when everything went black. For a moment, Clark wondered whether he was conscious. Then he realized he was overreacting as usual. “Power’s out,” he said, mostly to convince himself.
As Clark fumbled his way back across the dining room, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark, he took several deep breaths to calm himself. The front door flew open and a small, dark shadow crept its way into the house. After struggling to close the door, the shadow made its way down the hall. At the end of the hall it stopped. Wrestling with the light switch, it let out a shrill cry. “Mom? Dad?”
“The power’s out Jakey,” Julie said. She walked up and took his hand. “How was the park?”
“So much fun!” the enthusiastic four year old replied, his eyes lighting up. “We got all wet and we were throwing mud at Nicky, and she started crying. It was awesome!”
“Well, you be nice to Nicky. Now let’s take off your coat, and then Daddy will help you go wash up for dinner.”
Clark took his own coat off and put it back on his chair at the dining room table. He walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard above the fridge. He groped his way through the cupboard, pushing aside bowls and pans, finally wrapping his fingers around a candle. Opening the drawer to his right, he found the matches. On his third try, he struck the match, and as he lit the candle, it gave off a dim glow of light casting eerie shadows across the kitchen.
Julie finished with Jake’s coat. “There’s a candlestick on the living room coffee table Clark. I’ll go get it.”
Jake jumped at the crash of thunder. He clung to his father’s leg for protection. Protection Clark could not give, for he himself, was twice as frightened at the sound of the word candlestick. He took several more deep breaths as he tried to digest the irony of the situation. He had been fine with the mustard; the knife was merely coincidental; but now, a candlestick? He was now quite convinced that he wouldn’t get out of this alive.
Giving him little time to think, Julie quickly returned with the candlestick and two more candles. Handing Clark the heavy, brass candlestick, she took his candle to light the others.
He felt the weight of the candlestick in his hand. Staring at his wife, he thought of how innocent she seemed, even with her little candlestick and her knife. Yet, Clark knew the crime she had committed. His anger multiplying by the minute, he reminded himself that her innocence was all an act. Heavier than the candlestick, he felt the weight of what she had done.
Getting his candle back, Clark turned to Jake, “Okay come on, let’s go get you cleaned up.” He took his son by the hand and led him up the stairs. When they arrived at the bathroom, Clark noticed the puddle of water on the floor in front of the sink. “Maybe we’d better wash you up in the laundry room sink, huh?”
“Yeah Dad, the bathroom’s broken. Duh!” Jake said, laughing at his dad. “Daddy, what’s for dinner?”
“Chicken,” Clark replied. “Are you hungry?” he asked as they came back down the stairs and crossed through the dining room to the laundry room.
“Yes. But I want Spaghetti-Os,” Jake said as Clark picked him up so he could reach the sink.
“Well your mom has been working hard all day on her chicken. And I know she made a special little piece without mustard just for you.”
“Can we have Spaghetti-Os tomorrow then?”
“We’ll see Jake. Here, dry your hands buddy,” he said, handing Jake the towel and picking up the candlestick he had set on the washing machine.
Julie was sitting at the table waiting for them when they came back. They sat down and ate their dinner by candlelight. The entire night, Clark couldn’t keep his eyes off the candlestick or his mind off the game.

# # #

Monday morning came, and found Clark less than anxious to go to work; however, more than anxious to get out of bed. His alarm sounded at 6:45, an hour earlier than usual. He turned it off and immediately got up. Julie was still sound asleep. Sunday night, after finally calming himself down, he had decided on a plan.
The garage floor was cold against his bare feet as he tiptoed his way to the trunk of his car. Taking out the game, he placed it on top of his car and opened the box. He took out the revolver and the blue game piece. He opened Julie’s explorer and placed them on the driver’s seat. “There we are, Mrs. Peacock,” he said.
Quietly closing the car door, he returned to his trunk. He then removed the pipe which he had, in fact, not forgotten to purchase on Saturday, but had simply not brought inside. Not quite lead but it’ll have to do, he told himself as his fingers wrapped themselves around the cold, steel pipe. With the game in one hand and his weapon in the other, he was ready to solve his mystery. He returned to the kitchen. Setting the box on the counter, he took out his friend Colonel Mustard along with the knife, which he set on top of the microwave.
He stepped into the dining room, removed the candlestick from the table, and in its place, he set the candlestick from the game. Alongside it, the red pawn, Miss Scarlet. In the laundry room, on top of the dryer, he placed Ms. White with the rope. Admiring his own cleverness, he left the pipe and Professor Plum in the bathroom. Then, putting the wrench and Mr. Green in his pocket, he took the box back to his trunk.
Silently he hiked back up the stairs to the bedroom. In Julie’s closet, he put his last suspect, and his weapon, on the bottom shelf, next to Julie’s favorite pair of shoes. Then he got back into bed and went to sleep.
The alarm clock read 7:45 when it again screamed bloody murder. Clark got out of bed, showered, and got ready for work. Most days, Julie would get up to make him breakfast, but luckily, never on Mondays. At 8:15, he woke up Jake and got him dressed.
“What do you want for breakfast, kiddo?” he asked as Jake tried desperately to pull his sweatshirt over his head. Clark helped him and soon they were in the bathroom combing through Jake’s blonde hair.
“Daddy, what’s that?” Jake asked, pointing to the green pawn sitting next to the toothpaste.
“Just a little present for Mommy,” Clark said and with that he picked Jake up, put him on his shoulders and carried him down the stairs. In the kitchen Jake was surprised to see other presents for Mommy. “It’s a secret so don’t tell,” Clark told him. “Today’s me and your mom’s anniversary.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s like a birthday, only for the day we got married.”
They ate a nice homemade breakfast of cereal and milk. Then they split a banana. At 8:45 they went back upstairs to say goodbye to Julie.
Before they left, Clark took a small envelope out of his briefcase and left it on the kitchen counter.
When they arrived at school, Clark told Jake the plan. “Now Hayden’s mom will pick you up from school today okay, little buddy? You’re gonna sleep over at his house tonight.”
“Is it because it’s your wedding birthday?”
“Yes,” Clark said with a smile.
“Why can’t I come to the birthday party? Will there be cake?”
“No Jake, there won’t be cake. So don’t worry. You won’t miss out on anything. I promise.” Clark said assuredly. “Now have fun at school.”
“Bye, Dad,” Jake said as he got out of the car. Clark watched until his son was safely inside the school.
When he got home from work, Clark was glad to see Julie’s car in the garage. He couldn’t wait to get inside and hear her confession. As he took off his coat, he was surprised to see that Colonel Mustard was still in the kitchen with the knife. He passed through the dining room, and found the red pawn, still sitting right where he had left it on the table.
Then he realized it was dead quiet and there were no lights on. “Julie?” he shouted. There was no response. Slightly worried now, he made his way back to the laundry room. He opened the door and just as he suspected, there sat Ms. White on the dryer, right where he had left her, impatiently dangling the rope between her little fingers, waiting for her victim which had never arrived.
Upstairs he found both suspects still armed and sitting in their assigned positions. There had been no murder here. What happened? Had Julie not seen them? Then he remembered the envelope; he had forgotten to look for the envelope. He ran back downstairs to look. He came downstairs and there she sat. His beautiful Miss Scarlet, at the dining room table, dressed to kill in a bright red dress. She held in her left hand, a clue card with all four corners intact. In her right, a miniature lead pipe.
A shiny, new game board laid spread out on the table. Next to it sat a large tin. On top of the tin, Clark read the words ‘Clue: 50th Anniversary Edition.’ Julie smiled and mischievously winked at her husband. “Hello Professor,” she said, and Clark knew he was a dead man.

Two Covers

I knew where it had been
All along.
Finding it only took a little help.
She told me she had seen it,
Somewhere
In the basement.
Right where I had left it,
Pages worn with time and wrapped
In a blanket of dust,
It now had two covers.

I sit.
Begin to read,
Losing myself in what was lost.
And then I knew
I could find
Anything.

Garbanzos

Pork, garbanzo beans
Potatoes.
A delightful Dutch oven dinner
I crack a joke.
They laugh.
They laugh a lot.
"You're funny," a stranger tells me.
As she snorts, her beans
Fall from her mouth.
They hit her plate with a loud plop.

I'm funny?
I hear the plop of garbanzos.
In that splatter of beans, I see
I can be.
Funny funny me.

Silence

Silence.
The absence of words.
Wishing, waiting, wanting.
Hating.
Silence.
Soundlessly the hours slip away.
To where?
I don’t know.
I try hard not to let it show how much
I’m trying not to care.
But it’s hard to hide it
With nothing but silence.

The tick-talking of time passing
Makes for such poor company.
My friends all pity me.
Their attempts to cheer me don’t help,
But merely make things worse.
I’d rather much prefer
The silence.
In it I sit,
Lost.
Somewhere between courageous and cowardly.
Confidence gone,
Like a coward, I cry.

Silence.
I never knew it was so loud.
I close my eyes, pretend to shout.
It helps a little.
To feel more real.
To feel
The silence.

A Naked Wrist

First I looked in all the obvious places.
Under the bed, behind the dresser.
The places watches like to hide.
Then I looked deeper. Everywhere.
The places one finds things they didn’t want to find,
But never what they’re searching for.
Now I look at my wrist,
Wondering the time.
I'll never know.
How long have I been searching?
Perhaps a few short minutes.
Perhaps a few long hours.
I wouldn't know the difference.
I’ll never know.
I'll never know without it.

Separated at Birth

I always wanted a twin. Even though I had siblings, I was born an only child. Completely separated by a seventeen year gap from my youngest sister, I was the only child at home since before I can remember. At the age of 38 and 45 respectively, my mother and father were yet again going to tackle the dangerous world of parenthood. I remember growing up my mother always told me she’d wished I had been twins. I realize now that was only because I drove her crazy with my constant pleadings for her to join me in jumping on the trampoline or in playing Nintendo.
I have a close friend who happens to be a distant cousin. My early memories of Julie are dreadful. I recall in elementary school how she would repeatedly tell everyone that we weren’t related and that our same last name “problem” was mere coincidence. I, of course, was quick to agree, I certainly didn’t want to be related to her either. In junior high, Julie and I stayed out of each other’s way for the most part. It wasn’t until our sophomore year of high school, in our Drama 1 class, that we realized it was okay to be friends.
It was around that same time we also learned that it was okay to be family. So we tried to figure out just exactly how we were related. One day Julie came to school and told me that she had investigated it. I was excited at the possibility of actually knowing what to say when asked how we were related. Listening intently and hoping to hear something along the lines of fourth cousin, I heard, “My great, great, great grandpa was your great, great grandpa.” This she said with a satisfactory smile. However, I was less than satisfied.
“So what does that mean?” I asked with a bewildered look on my face.
“Well we’re related.” Of course we already knew that. So how could this information really benefit us?
One afternoon while hanging out backstage during a long rehearsal for our high school musical, a fellow cast member asked if Julie and I were related, a frequent occurrence. To my surprise, Julie quickly responded, “Yeah, we’re twins.” I was shocked but the glance she shot me said, play along or I will kill you. So I nodded my head. Never before had this ingenious idea occurred to me. We were twins. It was a lie, but a beautiful one. And it was too easy—someone had already believed it.
There was a problem, however. Julie and I didn’t live together. We had different birthdays. Yet, these were only minor details. We quickly set in on devising a plan, writing a script, to strategically cover up any conflicting evidence. We merely divided the 28 days between Julie’s birthday and mine, and our new birthday was August fifteenth. Then we simply would explain how our parents were divorced when we were twelve. Julie had stayed with our father while I had moved out with our mother. Since then our parents had both remarried. Who wouldn’t believe that, right?
Obviously, there were those whom we couldn’t convince. One day at rehearsal I was trying to convince a friend. I was working alone, performing a monologue so to speak, while Julie was using the restroom. “You’re not twins!” she said.
“Yes, we are,” I argued, trying my best to keep a straight face.
“Then when is your birthday?”
“August fifteenth.”
Then she went to ask Julie. Of course this couldn’t wait until she was out of the bathroom. I nervously followed her as she marched down the long hall toward the girl’s room. She came to the restroom, opened the door and screamed, “Julie!”
“Yeah?” hollered back a startled and confused Julie from the toilet.
“It’s Gretchen. When’s your birthday?” she shouted without giving me any chance to tip Julie off as to what was happening. It seemed to take Julie forever to respond. Would she say August fifteenth or would she ruin all I had worked so hard for in those last five minutes? I could feel the sweat running down my forehead like blood gushing from an open wound.
“August second. Why?”
My heart sank. “Oh, just wondering,” Gretchen said with a sneer on her face. She walked away without saying a word. I waited until Julie emerged from the girl’s room, an uneasy look stretched across her pale face. Then I let her have it. I was pretty upset. I had played my part perfectly, all for her to miss a cue and ruin our entire production. We both agreed that our little act needed more rehearsal. We picked a few more people to practice on.
Of course, our close friends already knew the truth so we not only had to decide who we could convince, but who we could convince to help us. Casting our show was crucial, and many of our friends were in on our little scheme. We couldn’t have done it without them. However the biggest help in spreading our little lies was ironically, my mother. She worked in the school cafeteria. At first she thought it was just a joke, and she found it rather endearing when Julie would call her mom. Later, she realized that people actually believed we were twins. So she would play along. Nearly everyone knew she was my mother, so anytime we came across a doubter, we would simply tell them to ask the lunch lady.
My mom loved it. Who would have thought she’d have a knack for acting? One afternoon as Julie and I sat in the cafeteria talking with her, Max, the janitor, came in to take out the trash. He started talking with my mom about a messy chocolate milk spill down the hall, so Julie and I decided to take off. “Okay Mom, we’re going back to class,” I said.
“Oh are these your kids?” Max asked.
“Yeah, these are my twins,” replied Mom without skipping a beat. Julie and I stared in amazement. Her performance worthy of a standing ovation, we stood to leave.
“Good thing we’ve got her on our side,” Julie said as we left the cafeteria.
About this point, we began classifying everyone we knew as a believer or a nonbeliever. At times I felt as if we were the leaders of some apostate religious group, leading so many to believe what ever we wanted them to believe, whether it was true or not. Every time we met someone new it was far too easy to introduce ourselves as twins. We had become addicted. With each lie it became more and more fun. I found such pleasure in it. Each lie led me to a state of sheer bliss, complete joy which can only be compared to the feeling one gets when purchasing a new pair of shoelaces. I often asked myself if what we were doing was wrong, but at that point it didn’t matter to me. All I cared about was how many people we could actually trick into believing us.
Our junior year, we had a friend by the name of Ricky. Ricky was the firmest believer yet. He was constantly asking us questions about our childhood and what it had been like growing up as twins. We tried our best to steer clear of his interrogations so as not to divulge our secret. This was not always easy as the three of us had a class together. I recall one day in class conversing about Star Wars. Ricky brought up how Luke Skywalker had kissed Princess Leia without even knowing it was his twin sister. Since we were twins, he asked us what we thought about that. Our response? “They were both just actors.”
At the end of the year Ricky would be moving away. Our conscience getting the best of us, we decided we had to tell him the truth before he left. We came up with an ingenious idea to give our closing night performance at the yearbook dance. We figured there would be a lot of bright lights flashing—perfect for a curtain call. I signed in Ricky’s yearbook next to where Julie had signed and then wrote P.S. We’re not twins. We told him he had to read what we had written. He strained his eyes to read the book in the dark room. The music blasting, we watched as Ricky’s toothy smile slowly faded into a look of utter disappointment. This sad face lasted only a moment, and then he started laughing. He didn’t believe us. He insisted we were twins. We tried to explain to him that we really were not and that we’d been lying to him all year. He asked several of our friends. Of course, the little computer viruses we had programmed so well lied and told him we were twins. Julie and I felt guilty. However, we had tried. To this day I’m sure Ricky still believes.
Our biggest adventure was taking on the faculty. Of course we only tried convincing a select few. Julie’s English teacher was perhaps the hardest to convince, but definitely the most rewarding when we finally did. One day after school we were talking with her in her classroom, she asked Julie if I was her boyfriend, which of course we laughed at, “No, he’s my twin brother.”
“He is not! You don’t have a twin.” she said. After all Mrs. Peterson had taught Julie’s older sister and knew their family quite well.
We insisted that it was true. What sealed the deal was when Julie said, “Well you know our mom, from the cafeteria right?”
“Oh, that’s your mom?” Suddenly Mrs. Peterson’s eyes lit up! Her green eyes scanned back and forth making contact with Julie’s blue eyes, then my brown eyes. “Oh. Yeah, I can see it now! You look so much alike.” Brown hair being our only true mutual characteristic, I could hardly contain my laughter.
Toward the end of our senior year, our Musical Theater class performed a revue of sorts. Our Theater teacher made up a program with a short biography of each person in the show. She combined Julie’s and mine into one. The closing remarks of our bio read, They may seem like twins and in fact they’ll tell you they are. However, that just goes to show what great actors they truly are. We were outraged. There would be hell to pay. What was she thinking? When we confronted her, she said she had no idea that people actually believed us. She apologized but the damage was done. Several believers had seen the show and read the program. The truth was out, and our acting career in shambles.
Friends were coming up to us left and right, asking what it meant. We tried to write it off, comparing it to anti-Mormon literature. Yet our believers did not hold strong. Obviously they realized we had lied to them. What had been done was irreparable. There was no way we could convince anyone now that so many people knew the truth. We tried, but someone who we had duped into believing us, and had then found out the truth, always seemed to be around. Bitter about the situation, they would blow our cover every time.
Our freshman year at college found us yet again, in an Acting 1 class, needing all the training for our lies we could get. However, this time, no one knew either of us and this could be used to our advantage. While calling roll the first day of class, our professor got to our names, “Julie Gurney.”
“Here.”
“Trent Gurney”
“Here.”
“Ah...any relation?” he asked.
Just as if we’d memorized the line from a script, we spouted off simultaneously “Yeah, we’re twins.” Smiling innocently, I thought about how we had never lied to this many people at the same time before. Who knew what would happen. Yet, it was easier now, we no longer needed our divorced parents excuse. I recall one day in class Julie and I planned a conversation to be overheard by our classmates just to make sure they believed us. Needing something interesting to talk about, we made up some story about how our father had broken his leg. Wondering how Dad’s leg was doing, she would ask me whether I had talked to Mom the night before. We even performed a scene in class together about growing up as twins and always fighting.
In the dorm adjacent to mine lived a set of actual twins. Julie and I were ecstatic. We told them how we were twins too. Next we went to work on my roommates, then Julie’s roommates. Sooner or later our entire college life was a lie, one big act. Everyone we knew believed we were twins. It was much different than high school when only a handful of people actually believed us. There was no reason for them to doubt. It was easier than it had ever been.
One Sunday afternoon, Julie, another friend and I were taking a nap in my room. The three of us had crammed onto my twin size bed. We were only half asleep when my roommate and his friend came into the dorm.
His friend saw us and was surprised. “Does that kid have two chicks in there?” he asked my roommate.
My roommate poked his head in the room and looked at us. “Yeah, but one of them is his sister so it’s all right.”
Many times, it was hard for Julie and me to stay in character all the time. We nearly gave our game away several times. Many times, friends would say things to me like, “I saw your sister today.” My sister was thirty-six years old, married, with four children and lived three hours away. Naturally, I would look at them confused, wondering how in the world they had seen her. Luckily, I would always catch myself before it was too late.
Truly, it’s unbelievable that we were believed. I remember countless times we would be with a group of friends, Julie would start talking about her mom and I would say something about my mom. Of course, we were supposed to have the same mom. When Julie’s parents would call her apartment, our friends found it rather odd they would never want to talk to me since I was there anyway. We shrugged such discrepancies off, and luckily, so did our friends.
About this time, Julie started dating a guy. Eventually it got to the point where he was always around and it was far too much work to keep him convinced. We decided to fill him in. We were at Julie’s apartment and he was looking through some of Julie’s old pictures. Julie handed him her family picture, one he had seen countless times before. As he scanned the faces, he realized the problem. I wasn’t in it. He asked why.
“We’re not twins,” Julie said. Eventually he got the point. The look of horror and distrust on his face was priceless. However, James was into theater too, he was a techie. So naturally, he quickly joined our production team, introducing his friends to his girlfriend and her twin brother.
Sometimes, I just wanted to tell the truth. I constantly had to remind myself to lie. It was just so unnatural to me. Even though we had done it for years, that had only been for a select few people. I guess you could say I got stage fright. High school had merely been a matinee and now that we were into the actual run, I wanted out. There were too many people that I had to lie to. I kept up the facade mostly to appease Julie. With practice, I became better and better.
After some time, telling lies came more natural to me than storing acorns does for a squirrel. I did it habitually. There were no longer any close calls. Julie was my twin sister. We had been living the lie so long that the lie itself was now our life. I couldn’t imagine anything else. I would never have imagined calling her my cousin.
At the end of the year however, our conscience resurfaced. We felt like we should tell at least some of our closest friends that we weren’t twins. So we did. Surprisingly enough, many people, just as Ricky had done, refused to believe us. Those that did were angry. I felt like a fraud. I had betrayed people who trusted me.
After our freshman year, I moved to California for two years. The majority of my correspondence with Julie was limited to letters. Julie informed me she had kept the lie alive, telling roommates and friends she had a twin. Each time I got a letter from her someone would ask who it was from. For a short time, I too continued to feed the lie. Eventually I resorted to telling the truth, the letters were from my cousin. I’m not really sure when it happened, but I realized none of the believers we had convinced mattered at all if I couldn’t believe it myself. I felt like a kid, finally realizing for myself that Santa Claus was one great big lie. How could I have been so childish? I refused to tell anyone we were twins again.
When I moved back to Utah, Julie had transferred universities. Both of us now lived completely different lives than we had when I left. We were no longer into acting. Julie had moved on to nursing school. As for me, I still make up stories; I just write them down rather than act them out. I’ve found that it’s safer that way. Upon returning, Julie introduced me to her roommates, they asked jokingly if I was “the twin.” I smiled and said yes. Apparently someone still believed.