I'll Be You(99)

How much time had passed? It felt like hours, but the clock on the wall said it had been less than ten minutes. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself now, but I knew I couldn’t go back inside that circle. Instead, I edged a step closer to the door and glanced through the window at the darkness beyond, willing my sister to hurry.

Across the room, Roni had pushed away from the wall. She was staring at me again, her eyes scanning my face. A sudden intake of breath, skin tightening over cheekbones, and I knew I’d been busted.

Somewhere, not so very far away, a car alarm was going off.

“You’re not Eleanor.” Roni’s voice rang out across the room, flat and accusatory. “You’re the sister.”

All around me, women turned in their seats, half stood, craned their necks to get a better look at me. Suzy, cross-legged on the floor, looked left and right at the women around her, as if expecting someone to fill her in. Ruth stared at me, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed; I figured she must be mentally replaying our walk together, wondering how she missed the signs.

“Holy shit, it’s the twin,” I heard a woman say.

“I am the sister,” I said agreeably, because really there was no point in pretending otherwise.

Dr. Medina looked across the room to where a wiry blond woman sat stiffly on a folding chair. She was wearing a yellow dress, just as Roni was, and didn’t have a shaved head, which was how I knew that this must be Iona. “How did she get in?” Dr. Medina barked. Her question sliced through the room and made Iona flinch. “I thought you were monitoring the gate today.”

Iona’s face was ashen. “I was. But—how was I to tell? Just look at her.”

Dr. Medina looked at me. She scanned me from head to toe, taking in the mourning dress and the haircut, and then she stood slowly from her chair. The notepad slid from her lap and lay, abandoned, on the floor. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you’re not allowed to be here. This is supposed to be a safe space for our members. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Great,” I said. “That’s exactly what I’d like to do.”

“But where’s Eleanor?” It was Suzy, the question not addressed to me but to the women sitting on either side and across from her. She repeated it again, her voice high-pitched and frantic—“Oh my God, what happened to Eleanor!”—as her head careened left and right. I wondered if she’d give herself whiplash.

“I’m right here.” Behind me, the door to the lounge had opened and my sister now stood behind me, the handle of her rolling suitcase clutched in her fist. I could hear her breath, fast and strained, as if she’d just run a half-marathon. A slash of red was smeared across the otherwise pristine front of her white dress. Her hand on the suitcase handle was dripping blood from a cut. She was trembling.

I reached back and grasped the hand that wasn’t bleeding. Squeezed it. Her cheeks were flushed and when her eyes met mine, I saw something bright and hard in them. Defiance, maybe? Or victory? She caught my look and smiled. It was a fragile smile, just this side of collapse, but it reassured me anyway.

We turned as one to face the room.

“Eleanor.” Dr. Medina stood motionless with a hand on the back of her armchair. “This is a terrible idea. You aren’t ready to leave.”

“Is that a threat?” I shot.

Dr. Medina didn’t look at me; I wasn’t of interest to her at all. Behind her wire-rimmed glasses her eyes were fixed on my sister. “Eleanor, your sister is toxic,” she began. The words she spoke were slow and rhythmic, almost a metronomic chant that seemed to slow the room around us. “She’s an unreliable addict, you know she doesn’t have your best interests in mind, she wants to keep you small so that she can feel big, she is scared that you will grow past her. Don’t let her sabotage you. Don’t leave. You’re so close to achieving your fully realized self.”

Elli’s eyes were wide and wild; she blinked fast, as if holding back tears. And for a moment, I hesitated, wondering if maybe I was toxic for my sister. I thought of that book I’d read years ago: Identical twins must be raised separately if they are to truly become who they really are. Maybe Dr. Medina was right in this regard, and my presence in Elli’s life had kept her from being her true self. Maybe I was the reason she was here now. Maybe the best thing for her was to separate from me.

But Elli’s hand tightened its grip on mine. “But what if I want to leave? You’re not going to try to stop me?” she asked, her voice thick with disbelief. “You’re not going to try to punish me?”

Dr. Medina shrugged, a noncommittal lift of her shoulders that didn’t exactly inspire confidence. “Be my guest,” she said coolly. “It’s your own life you’re ruining.”

I heard my sister’s sharp inhale and exhale. “OK, then. I’m going,” she said. There was something new in her voice, something spikey and sharp, that she lobbed at Dr. Medina: “From now on, you leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone. Because maybe I know more about you than you think.” And maybe it’s just that I wanted to see Dr. Medina lose her grip on that icy self-possession, but for a split second, I could have sworn I saw her recoil.

And with that, Elli and I started to exit the lounge, but I paused just before the door and turned back to survey the women in the room. I couldn’t help myself. Impulse control was never my strong suit.