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MALLORY
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That did not go well at all. We spent three hours in that tight room. We were there so long that Jesus’s shift was over, and they had to send in a replacement.
Asking any of the questions I had to voice was a waste of time. Any mention of Madeline and they were changing the subject. What are they skirting around? What are they not telling me? Did something really happen to her? People keep telling me she died, but I do not believe them.
It ended with me screaming, wanting to know what happened to my sister, and the replacement guard hauling me out, then stabbing my neck with a sedative.
Now, here I am, lying on a couch and listening to this psychiatrist drone on about hypnosis. It’s not that Titus guy, no; he hasn’t been given the okay to hypnotize people yet. Thank God!
This new guy, Dr. Haque, sits in a leather chair, a little too close to me, while my mother and Detective Sloane idle in the background. Why is the detective here again?
“Miss Moore, let’s start with the last time you saw your sister. Can you tell me about that?”
This sounds simple enough. “Yes. It was a few days before I got arrested. On Friday night, to be exact.” I hear my mother release a strange noise, but the doctor shushes her and asks me to continue.
“I came back earlier than expected. My date didn’t go well. Not as well as I thought it would. I mean, this guy had apparently been wanting to ask me out for a long time. Then, he goes and acts like a jerk. At least, that is what I thought at the time. After some reflection, I feel like my reaction was a little off.” I didn’t tell them that maybe I was trying to find a reason for it not to work.
“Miss Moore,” Dr. Haque interrupts, “you are getting off topic. Focus on your sister. What happened when you saw her?”
“Nothing happened. I came home. She was on my couch, watching something on my laptop, and eating my food. Mad saw I had a bad night. She tried talking to me, consoling me, but I didn’t want it. Not from her, not from anyone, really. I went to bed and shut her out. Maybe I overreacted to her as well. Not just that night, but the entire time she was there. She tried spending time with me, but so much resentment was built up inside. She couldn’t break it. I hated her for leaving us. I didn’t know why she left, but I also never asked. If I could talk to her now, I would ask her why she chose to leave us when she did. Why she left me.”
I peek over and see the other three people in the room sharing a look. Do they not believe me? Which part do they not believe? The part where I am remorseful for not giving my twin sister a second chance, or that she was ever there at all?
“How about we back up a little further? Can you tell me what happened when she left? When you were seventeen?” he asks.
I focus on that same spot in the ceiling. The one he told me to aim for when I first lied down, and try not to think about everyone in the room around me. It isn’t working, so I close my eyes and try to picture the afternoon that it happened. The memory was so clear yesterday. Trying to bring it up now only makes my head hurt.
After several minutes of me remaining silent, Dr. Haque asks, “You have your eyes closed. I want you to keep them that way. Are you picturing that day?”
“Trying to, but it’s a little fuzzy.”
“Okay, that’s okay. Don’t give up. Can you describe where you were? What you were doing?” he questions in a soft voice.
“I... I know we were on summer vacation. Wait, is that right? I don’t recall that as being the time when Mad left. My parents did something different that year. It wasn’t the usual beach or camping trip that we always did. Madeline and I were going to become seniors when school started again. I already had my heart set on the nursing program at A&M. The application was filled out and just waiting. Since there might not be a family vacation the next summer, not with my busy schedule, my parents took us to Mexico. We had never left the US. It was fun. We were set to leave and head back home the next day.”
I stop, unsure where this is going. What happened the next day? What happened that day?
None of this feels right, but the more I remember, the clearer the picture gets.
“Miss Moore, are you still with me?” Dr. Haque asks.
“Umm, I don’t know where I was in the story,” I admit.
“That’s okay. Tell me. Are you completely comfortable right now? Is the temperature in the room to your liking? Do you need to use the restroom or take a sip of water?”
“No,” I say in a lethargic voice. “I am about as comfortable as I am going to get in this situation.”
“Good. If you would allow me to do so, I would like to help you dig into your subconscious and pull the memory you are looking for out. Would you like for me to do that for you?” His voice is almost angelic.
“As long as you are not physically entering my brain, then have at it.”
“Miss Moore, I am going to count back from ten and as I do this, you will fall into a deep relaxing state. You will go back to your time in Mexico, when you were seventeen, and you will see exactly what happened that day. We will start now. Stay focused, keep your eyes closed. Ten: you are seventeen. Nine: you are in Mexico. Eight: your family is with you. Seven: it is you, your sister, your brother, and your parents. Six...”
The picture comes into view. It is unclear, and I can still hear the doctor speaking, but he is far off, in a tunnel somewhere in the distance. Something whizzes past me. A child. It is Mason. He has a string in his hand and looks up. My eyes follow and see a kite flying high in the sky.
“One: what do you see?” Dr. Haque’s voice floats through the vision and enters my mind.
“The sky. Mason is flying a red and yellow kite. It flutters through the air like a bird. There are rocks. I am on a cliff. I can hear water.”
“Good, very good. How do you feel?”
I don’t know how I feel. Everything around me is so serene, yet animosity, resentment, and anger courses through me. “I can’t tell yet.” I lie. The feelings are coming back to me.
“Mad, come look at this!” Who said that? My eyes move down, and I see my sister standing at the edge of a cliff. “You have to see this. It’s crazy!” She turns to me and smiles. Did she call me Madeline? Why would she do that?
“Who is talking to you, Miss Moore?” Dr. Haque interrupts the moment and I wish he would leave me alone.
“My sister,” I whisper.
“What is she saying?” He wants to know, but I don’t want to say.
My beautiful sister stands before me, her long hair blowing in the wind. It keeps sticking to her ChapStick-covered lips, and she is annoyed but still laughs, because that is what she does. She makes everything that would irritate another person into a game, or fun fact.
Funny how I always doubted my own looks, yet always thought she was perfect. We are identical in every way physically. Personality really can change a perception.
No one likes me, not the real me. Not the person I am inside. I am nothing like her. The free, all-loving spirit who sees good in everything they come across. That’s why I act out, make bad decisions, and am constantly in trouble. My life is going nowhere. Where will I be without my sister constantly bailing me out?
She is going to leave me soon. She will leave me with these people that don’t understand me. I will never live up to this perfect picture she lives in. The one she painted. The one she will take with her. Where are these thoughts coming from? Who do they belong to?
“She wants me to look at something. We are on a cliff, by the ocean. She called me. I am walking her way.”
I can feel the rocks poke at my feet under my thin flip-flops on my feet. The smell of sea breeze is in the air. The view changes as my head shifts and I look behind me. Mom and Dad are busy talking with a group of tourists. My head turns back, my body still walking forward. I look down and see what I am wearing. Our parents always liked to dress us in matching outfits when we were at family gatherings and on vacations. I remember protesting this particular ensemble.
We are both wearing white tank tops that say ‘Texas, born and raised’ in red lettering. Our khaki shorts match and I can see the bulge in her pocket where her newly acquired smartphone sits. It is just like mine, yet completely different. She has different contacts saved as she has more friends. She has social media apps, and messages from boys that like her for her, and not just for what her body can offer them.
I pull my phone from my pocket. Its weight is heavy in my hand. “Hey, let’s do the switch up.” My voice sounds foreign to my own ears.
“Now?” she asks.
“Yeah. Give me your phone.” I hand her mine and she passes hers over without another question. Her hair is down, mine is held back with a tie.
“Here,” I say, pulling the tie from my ponytail.
“Right,” she says with a smile and takes it from my hand. I can feel the spark as her fingers slightly brush mine. With her hair now pulled back, she adds, “This is going to be fun. Give them one last go before...” She does not get to finish the sentence. I push forward without another thought.
“No!” I hear Mason and my voice scream in unison. “No, no, no.”
“What is happening?” Dr. Haque’s voice penetrates my grief.
I ignore him and look down. The waves are crashing below, but that is not where my eyes land. My sister is there, flat on a bank of rocks that protrude right before the water takes over.
“Mallory?!” Mason yells repeatedly. “Mal!” His voice is shrill and causes everyone else to ascend in my direction.
“Why is he calling her Mallory?” I question.
“Who is calling for Mallory?” Dr. Haque asks.
“Mason!” I turn to my little brother. He is shaking. “Mason, I am Mallory. That is Madeline. Look away. Don’t look down there.”
He keeps his distance from me. When I try to reach out, he backs away.
“Mason, it’s me, Mal.”
His head violently shakes, and he runs to our mother as she approaches.
“What happened? Where is your sister?” she asks.
“She... she fell.” I try telling her what happened, but my father is behind her, already looking down.
I can see the turn—the change—in his face. He swallows hard, then looks at me, really looks at me, but for just a second. The way he always looks at my sister, but it is gone before I can enjoy it. That regret and disappointment he has always shown me is back in an instant.
Tears fall from my eyes. “Is she going to be okay? Is Madeline okay?” I ask.
Mom is busy pulling Mason away. Dad is distraught and searching for our tour guide.
“Can someone get to her? She must be hurting!” I scream this, but no one is listening to me. I look down again at the now blood-soaked rocks. The water hits my sister’s body with such force that she lifts with each wave.
“Who is down there? Say her name,” the doctor demands. But I cannot break away from this. There is no her or me, we are the same.
My father pulls me back from the edge. Several people skirt by me, preparing ropes for a dive down. He stares at me for several seconds before saying anything. “Mallory?” he asks while slightly tugging on my loosely falling hair. “Um, are you okay?”
Mason still cries for Mallory in the background. He does not know that it is Madeline that is now dead. Gone. Madeline has left this world.
“And why did Madeline need to leave this world?” Dr. Haque questions.
“Because Madeline was nothing. She meant nothing to anyone. Mallory was everything to everyone, even to me. And she was going to leave me behind. She was going to leave me with people who did not love me, and didn’t understand me. Mallory had to leave so I could become her!”