The Evil Twin
one/one
“I’m going to propose to him today.”
She may as well have sliced me in two with a rusty chainsaw – it would have had much of the same effect. A sharp stab in the guts or a sizzling burn with a poker would both equal the feeling too.
Her voice was full of such a warm, genuine contented happiness that I wanted to either be sick or smash the tacky ornaments that lined up along the counter beside the salt and pepper. She had bought them for me from a trip to Hamburg with him just last year. Previously I had disliked them, as I did all useless ornamental items; now I hated them.
The kettle whistled shrilly to my left, steam billowing out and misting up my tiny kitchen window. I made the most of the interruption – fumbling to tug it off the stand on purpose, pouring the boiling water into the waiting cups at least ten times slower than normal.
Even so, I nearly scalded half my skin off when three quarters of the kettles water flooded across my cheap countertops due to my hands shaking like an old woman’s. Another diversion; more time to think of words to say.
I should have seen this coming. Rather, I should have prepared myself better for it – I had seen it coming a long time ago. I had almost known this would happen from the moment she had told me they were ‘an item’.
The knowledge still didn’t make it any easier to bear.
I made silent thanks she couldn’t see my expression. If she had been able to, she would have known what her words had done to me and then all the lies and denying and pretending I didn’t mind she couldn’t make it to the dinner we had planned for who knew how long because he had sprung a surprise romantic date would be for nothing. She would know how I felt about her soon-to-be-fiancé.
She would know that, although she was my twin sister, she didn’t know me half as well as she thought she did.
“Did you hear what I said?” she asked after quite a pause.
I focussed on laying out the biscuits on the old, second hand plate perfectly so each overlapped the other just slightly. I could smell the hot tea in the air, feel the biscuit crumbs under my uneven fingernails, hear the plaintive bleep of my mobile declaring it was low on battery. My voice would not, could not, appear anything other than happy under any circumstances.
“Of course I did.”
“I’m going to propose to him today,” she repeated dreamily.
A rusty chainsaw slicing through my bones like they were marshmallow, a knife plunging into my stomach, a white hot poker pressed against my bare skin; all together when she repeated the seven wounding words for a second time.
Just when I had begun to recover from her first declaration of intentions the words were expelled once more, tearing off the hasty scab to reveal the raw flesh beneath.
He loves her too, I reminded myself. At least he loves her.
“Do you think he’ll say yes?” she asked. “It’s unconventional for the girl to propose.”
I added two sugars to her tea, none to mine. “I’m sure he will.”
I placed the plate of biscuits and her cup of tea onto the table in front of her, turning back to collect my own drink quickly so she couldn’t see my face. I hadn’t managed to compose my expression into the correct one quite yet.
“I can’t believe it,” she continued. “I’m actually going to do it. I’m going to propose to him today.”
It took physical effort not to wince.
Stop saying it! I screamed on the inside.
On the outside, my already shaking hands merely quivered a little more violently, sloshing the tea I was holding over the cups edge. It pooled in the saucer, looking like some kind of dirty moat around a makeshift castle.
The chair made a squeaky screech as I dragged its heavy wood back across the linoleum flooring, the cup and saucer an unnaturally loud clatter as it met the table. Staring into my cooling tea did no good – I found no answers there.
I took one last, steadying breath before I looked into my sister’s eyes, identical in shape and colour to my own. Only we, the two of us, could tell the subtle differences.
The lie would sound like the truth on my lips; it always did.
“I know you are. I’m happy for you.”
She may as well have sliced me in two with a rusty chainsaw – it would have had much of the same effect. A sharp stab in the guts or a sizzling burn with a poker would both equal the feeling too.
Her voice was full of such a warm, genuine contented happiness that I wanted to either be sick or smash the tacky ornaments that lined up along the counter beside the salt and pepper. She had bought them for me from a trip to Hamburg with him just last year. Previously I had disliked them, as I did all useless ornamental items; now I hated them.
The kettle whistled shrilly to my left, steam billowing out and misting up my tiny kitchen window. I made the most of the interruption – fumbling to tug it off the stand on purpose, pouring the boiling water into the waiting cups at least ten times slower than normal.
Even so, I nearly scalded half my skin off when three quarters of the kettles water flooded across my cheap countertops due to my hands shaking like an old woman’s. Another diversion; more time to think of words to say.
I should have seen this coming. Rather, I should have prepared myself better for it – I had seen it coming a long time ago. I had almost known this would happen from the moment she had told me they were ‘an item’.
The knowledge still didn’t make it any easier to bear.
I made silent thanks she couldn’t see my expression. If she had been able to, she would have known what her words had done to me and then all the lies and denying and pretending I didn’t mind she couldn’t make it to the dinner we had planned for who knew how long because he had sprung a surprise romantic date would be for nothing. She would know how I felt about her soon-to-be-fiancé.
She would know that, although she was my twin sister, she didn’t know me half as well as she thought she did.
“Did you hear what I said?” she asked after quite a pause.
I focussed on laying out the biscuits on the old, second hand plate perfectly so each overlapped the other just slightly. I could smell the hot tea in the air, feel the biscuit crumbs under my uneven fingernails, hear the plaintive bleep of my mobile declaring it was low on battery. My voice would not, could not, appear anything other than happy under any circumstances.
“Of course I did.”
“I’m going to propose to him today,” she repeated dreamily.
A rusty chainsaw slicing through my bones like they were marshmallow, a knife plunging into my stomach, a white hot poker pressed against my bare skin; all together when she repeated the seven wounding words for a second time.
Just when I had begun to recover from her first declaration of intentions the words were expelled once more, tearing off the hasty scab to reveal the raw flesh beneath.
He loves her too, I reminded myself. At least he loves her.
“Do you think he’ll say yes?” she asked. “It’s unconventional for the girl to propose.”
I added two sugars to her tea, none to mine. “I’m sure he will.”
I placed the plate of biscuits and her cup of tea onto the table in front of her, turning back to collect my own drink quickly so she couldn’t see my face. I hadn’t managed to compose my expression into the correct one quite yet.
“I can’t believe it,” she continued. “I’m actually going to do it. I’m going to propose to him today.”
It took physical effort not to wince.
Stop saying it! I screamed on the inside.
On the outside, my already shaking hands merely quivered a little more violently, sloshing the tea I was holding over the cups edge. It pooled in the saucer, looking like some kind of dirty moat around a makeshift castle.
The chair made a squeaky screech as I dragged its heavy wood back across the linoleum flooring, the cup and saucer an unnaturally loud clatter as it met the table. Staring into my cooling tea did no good – I found no answers there.
I took one last, steadying breath before I looked into my sister’s eyes, identical in shape and colour to my own. Only we, the two of us, could tell the subtle differences.
The lie would sound like the truth on my lips; it always did.
“I know you are. I’m happy for you.”