The Good Twin(23)

He seemed to buy the line, and why not? As I said before, I’m a good actress. The rest of the lunch was comfortable, and when Jake dropped me back off at the house, he asked if we could do it again next week. I figured once a week wasn’t going to be a problem. “Yes.”



The next day, I had my first training session with Jackie. I told her I’d never worked out before, so she started me off with light weights. Even so, I struggled through the bicep curls and tricep lifts, the leg presses and squats. The hour seemed to go on forever. When it was almost over, she had me hop up on a table and lie down, and she then put me through various contortions stretching my muscles. I thought that was almost as painful as the weights.

By the time I walked into the house, I was limping. I was about to jump in the shower when Ben called. “How’s it going?”

“I ache all over.”

“That’s good.”

“Maybe for you. Not for me.”

“No, it means you’re getting a good workout. You need that. Charly goes to the gym three times a week.”

“You’re telling me my sister is a masochist?”

Ben laughed. “No, just a rich Manhattan girl, where there’s no such thing as too thin. She runs four times a week, also.” He paused for a moment. “I just realized . . . you need to start jogging. It’s important not to change Charly’s routine, at least at first.”

I inwardly groaned. Becoming Charly was going to be harder than I’d anticipated.



After a few days of my muscles torturing me following my first personal training session, I’d actually come to look forward to working out with Jackie. I’d successfully started a fire in the fireplace twice and had gone back to Duck Pond with my sketchbook and spent an hour drawing. I was starting to feel like this town really was my home.

As we’d agreed, Jake showed up a week later to take me to lunch. “I have something special in mind for today,” he said when I got in his truck. We drove past the restaurants in the village, past some homes, onto a road that was flanked by woods. After fifteen minutes, we pulled into a circular parking area and got out of the truck. Jake grabbed a basket from the back, and we walked over to a paved path. “This is the Ashokan Reservoir,” Jake told me. “It provides the water for New York City.”

It was breathtaking. The large expanse of water was surrounded by mountains, the peaks dotted with snow.

“It’s my favorite spot in the area,” Jake said.

We walked a few minutes, then stepped off the path onto the grass. Jake opened the basket and pulled out a blanket, which he spread on the ground. “I thought we’d have a picnic today.”

I couldn’t have been more pleased. He brought out a bottle of wine, then laid out sandwiches, cut-up fruit, cheese, and a bag of potato chips. As we ate, he pointed out the names of each of the mountains. “That’s Indian Head, which sort of looks like the profile of an Indian, don’t you think?”

He was right. It did.

“Next is Twin, because of its two peaks, then Plateau and Sugarloaf. They’re part of the Devil’s Path.”

“How do you know that?” I asked him.

“I’ve climbed each of them, many times.”

“Would you take me?”

“Whenever you want.”

I thought of myself on top of one of those mountains, strong and fierce and able to take on the world, and a feeling of exhilaration shot through me. In the next instant, I thought about the task I’d taken on with Ben, what I’d agreed to do. I’d come to love this area. I was beginning to feel affection for Jake. But I knew I’d have to give up both. Once I became Charly, once Ben and I divorced, I would have to disappear. That’s what I’d agreed to. That’s what I’d thought I wanted.



When I returned from lunch, I popped another DVD into the machine and began watching more videos of Charly. Whenever she spoke, I’d press “Pause,” and practice saying the same thing into a recorder. Then I’d play it back, and see if I could tell the difference. I was getting better and better at mimicking her accent each day. After an hour of practicing her voice, I watched the videos through for the umpteenth time. Something had bothered me each time I’d viewed them, and I’d been having a hard time putting my finger on it.

After I’d watched each of them again, I logged on to her Facebook page. She had a slew of friends who posted regularly, but she only did so once in a while. I went back through her history to our shared birthday, and read the birthday wishes posted by her friends. That’s when it hit me. I picked up my phone and called Ben.

“I get such a different picture of Charly from the videos and Facebook postings than the one you’ve painted,” I said when he got on the line.

“Hold on a second.”

I heard a door close, and then he was back.

“Yeah, well, people always put on a show when the camera is on them.”

“That doesn’t explain Facebook. Her friends genuinely seem to like her. And when she posts herself, she comes across as really warm.”

“Again, the face she shows the public.”

I wasn’t buying it. Not completely. “Ben, I get that your marriage is bad. I get that divorcing her leaves you with nothing. But is her treatment of you the only reason you want out?”