I Know Who You Are(84)

“Stop calling me that.”

“You said that’s what Maggie called you. I thought you liked it. I thought that’s why you left me and never came back. I made you some breakfast.” He lifts a blue bowl and spoon to my lips.

I keep my mouth closed and turn away.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. It’s porridge in your favorite bowl. Do you remember what I told you when it got chipped? Things that are a little bit broken can still be beautiful.”

“Please untie me.”

“I want to. I really do, but I’m scared you’ll run away again. Do you even remember that day? I never ate chicken again after he made me kill that bird.”

“Why have you dressed me like this?”

“Don’t you like it? If you’re upset about the red shoes, I’m afraid they don’t fit anymore. You could say you got a little too big for your boots.” He laughs at his own joke, then waits, as though expecting me to do the same. When I don’t, his smile vanishes and his whole face seems to twist and darken. “If you don’t like the clothes I got you, I can always take them off.” He roughly pulls up my skirt and starts to roll down the white tights.

“No, don’t! Please!”

“What’s the matter? Once upon a time you used to like it when I took your clothes off. You kept saying you wanted to have a baby together, despite me telling you that wasn’t a good idea. You understand now, right? Besides, it isn’t like I haven’t seen it all before.” He pulls the tights down to my thighs and puts his hand there, moving it slowly up. “It isn’t like I haven’t seen every single part of you, tasted you, been inside you. There is nobody on this earth who knows you better than I do. I know who you are. Who you really are. And I still love you.”

I turn my face away as his hand moves higher.

“You can pretend like you didn’t want it now, if that makes you feel better. But we both know that you did. Having me inside you was about the only thing that seemed to calm those nerves of yours, wasn’t it? Before a big interview, or one of your silly red carpet events?”

“I didn’t know who you were—”

“Didn’t you?”

I don’t answer.

“Had I really changed that much when we first met as adults? Look at you, with your perfect tits and curls and big pretty eyes. You could have had anyone, but you wanted me. Your own brother.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I just want us to be together. That’s all I ever wanted, but it was never enough for you, too busy flirting with directors or actors like Jack Anderson. Well, we’re going to be together now, till death do us part. We might not have very long. I’m sick.”

He climbs on top of the bed and arranges his body around mine. His fingers entwine with my own, and his head rests on my chest, so that I can smell his hair and see the pink skin beneath the beginnings of a bald patch. The weight of his body crushes me, but I don’t say anything. I keep perfectly still and silent until he falls asleep.

As he starts to gently snore, I hear only one voice inside my head, and it is Maggie’s, not my own.

So long as you never forget who you really are, acting will save you.

I silently repeat those words as I lie wide awake. I cradle the idea in my tired mind, rocking it gently, trying not to wake it or him, trying to keep the thought as quiet as possible, scared that someone else might hear it and snuff it out. Right now, it’s all I have left to hold on to. My fear thaws into hate, just enough to allow me to dare to think of a way out of this, to imagine an ending that isn’t my own. I start to rehearse my lines and play out the next scene in my imagination. Life is like a game of chess; you just have to play it backwards and work out all the moves you need to make in advance, to get where you need to be.

The wind starts to pick up, a mournful howl singing through the old house. Outside the window I can see the tree I used to climb when I was a little girl. It looks dead. Its branches sway in the breeze, creaking with effort, and its fingers of twigs tap on the glass like blackened bones.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It gets dark inside the room before it does outside the window, and when it is almost completely black, I know exactly what I need to say and do.





Seventy-four


I kiss the top of his head.

Gentle, tender, loving kisses.

He stirs on top of me, then looks up.

“Kiss me,” I whisper. “Please.” He kisses my mouth, still half-asleep. The taste of him makes me want to retch, but I kiss him back. His eyes are open the whole time, filled with confusion, examining my own. As soon as our lips part, I let the words out.

“I always knew that it was you.”

He stares at me for a long time, a frown folding itself onto his brow. “You knew?”

“I pretended not to, but of course I knew who you really were. I remember everything, you know that about me, so how could I forget my own brother?” I can see that he wants to believe me, but that he doesn’t. I need to try harder. “I’ve missed you since you left me. I know what that feels like now, and I don’t want us to be apart again.”

“You want us to be together?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.” I nod.

“Together how?”