Read My Sister's Voice Online

Authors: Mary Carter

My Sister's Voice (23 page)

BOOK: My Sister's Voice
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She caught “Alan’s girlfriend” on his lips. She nodded.
I’m looking for scraps of steel and a welding gun,
she wrote. He frowned as he read the letter, then looked at her with raised eyebrows. Lacey smiled and pointed to her ring finger. He pointed back at her.
“You want a ring?” he asked. She shook her head no. She grabbed the pad of paper back.
For Alan,
she wrote.
I’m going to propose.
The man broke into a grin. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them.
Can I tell the guys?
he asked.
As long as they don’t tell Alan,
Lacey wrote back. He pounded her on the back, headed out of the office, and motioned for her to follow. Rookie jumped into the chair by the desk and curled into a ball of bliss. Lacey tapped the man on the shoulder and pointed at Rookie. He gave her another grin and a thumbs-up. Lacey hurried after him as he strode down the hall.
In the next room, workmen were suspended from makeshift decks, unfazed by the sparks flying out of the ends of their soldering irons. Red Beard picked up a couple of scraps of metal off the floor. He turned and showed her his hands. Alan’s were a little bit smaller, and Lacey pinched together her index finger and thumb to show him this. Suddenly the man whistled and yelled, and before she knew it, three other men were standing around them. He pointed at her and as he talked to them, she caught “Alan’s girlfriend” and “propose.” The men clapped. He then asked them each to hold out their hands so Lacey could pick whose fingers were closest to Alan’s in size. She laughed as she examined their dirty hands; it was like a reverse Cinderella. When she found the one that was the closest, Red Beard measured his finger with a piece of string and then dismissed the men.
He motioned for her to follow him again, and soon he was wrestling a soldering iron out of another man’s hands. The man shut the sparking tool off and lifted his goggles. Red Beard went into charade mode, indicating what Lacey planned on doing, and what he wanted. The man grinned, took the scrap of metal from Red Beard and went to work on it. Within minutes, Lacey had a makeshift ring.
She and Red Beard walked down the hall like two Pied Pipers, for at least ten workmen were following them. She could see Alan at the end of the hall, bent over a table, a pencil sticking out over his ear. He’d never looked sexier. And not only was he a good-looking man, he was a good man. He was her family. She would never need anybody else. Feeling eyes upon him, Alan looked up, and spotted her immediately. She saw confusion in his face, but she also saw exactly what she needed: He was happy to see her. It was her Alan, the one who loved her. He asked her what she was doing there, with a smile on his face. He frowned at the men gathered behind her. “What’s going on?”
Lacey walked right up to him, then got on her knees. She knew her skirt was probably showing a little too much action to the men in back, but she didn’t care. Alan did. He tried to pull her up.
“Floor, dirty.”
“I don’t care.” Lacey held out the ring. “Will you marry me?” Alan reached out and pulled her up. This time, she let him. He was looking behind her. Lacey followed his gaze. The men were whistling and clapping. When she turned around, there were more thumbs-up. Lacey took Alan’s hand and slipped the ring on.
“I was supposed to ask you,” he said.
“Yes or no?” Lacey asked.
“I love you,” Alan said.
“Yes or no?”
“Why did you change your mind?”
“Last chance. Yes or no.”
“Yes,” Alan said. He picked her up and twirled her around. Then he kissed her. Lacey had never been happier in her life. But suddenly, Alan wasn’t looking at her. He was looking over her shoulder.
“Oh my God,” he said. Lacey didn’t have to turn around; the look on his face told her he was seeing double. But of course, she turned around anyway. There, standing in the center of the workmen, tears in her eyes as if she too had just gotten engaged, was Monica. A stab of jealousy hit Lacey so sharp, so unexpectedly, it almost knocked her over. Alan took a step away from her, toward Monica. “Oh my God,” he said again. And it was no wonder. Monica too was wearing high heels, a low-cut blouse, and a miniskirt. Her glasses were off, her hair was feathered like Lacey’s. And under her arm was a wriggling puggle Lacey could only assume was Snookie.
My evil twin,
Lacey thought as she stared at Monica.
And her little dog too.
Chapter 24
L
acey’s first instinct was to attack, but there were way too many people around. Monica’s little fan club. The men looked as if they had abandoned all thoughts of going back to work. They were chatting Monica up and taking unsolicited pictures with their cell phones. Only Rookie was equally horrified; he growled and shook his head at Snookie, as if warning him to either stay back or become his newest squeaky toy. Alan stayed by Lacey’s side, but from the way he kept shifting his gaze from Monica to Lacey, she knew he too was fascinated. She was losing control of the situation. She needed to get Alan out of here. But Alan was already gone, chatting with Monica, head-to-head, mouths moving a mile a minute. She wasn’t used to watching Alan talk without signing; it was like an out-of-body experience. What did their voices sound like? Was Monica’s pretty? With any luck she sounded like a truck driver. Lacey marched over and put her arm around Alan’s waist.
“Let’s go back to your hotel,” she said. “Celebrate. Romantic. Just the two of us.”
“I’m taking you two out to dinner,” Alan said.
“Alan knows of a great Italian restaurant,” Monica said. Lacey understood her surprisingly well, but she looked at Alan as if she didn’t. Alan interpreted.
“What about the dogs?” Lacey said. “We can’t just leave them in the car.”
“We can drop them off at the hotel,” Alan said. “Along with your suitcases.” Suitcases? Lacey only brought one. She looked at Monica. There it was, hiding behind her, an overstuffed bag on wheels.
“Is she going on a trip?” Lacey asked Alan. He laughed, as if she had made a joke.
“She said she’s staying with you,” Alan said. He had a big grin on his face. “It’s perfect,” he said. “I don’t like being away from you; it’s nice to know you’ll have company.” Lacey stared at Monica, and waited for her to set him straight. But Monica just stared back at Lacey with a smile bearing equal portions of guilt and hope. It was surreal, looking at someone with such a familiar face.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Lacey thought.
Who’s the—.
She dropped in mid-silent-sentence. What did it matter? She knew nothing about this was, or would ever be, fair.
 
Back at the motel, Lacey stood on the balcony and gazed down at the kidney-shaped pool. She neither knew nor cared what Alan and Monica were chatting about inside. She found herself imagining Monica leaning over the balcony with her, clearly saw herself give Monica a little shove. Would she hit the water and drown, or splatter all over the concrete?
I’m not evil,
Lacey told herself.
I’m not.
Don’t siblings always want to kill each other? Did this actually mean she loved her sister? No. She didn’t know that woman in there, let alone love her. She didn’t invite her into her life, and she couldn’t believe anyone would have the nerve to pack a suitcase and invade a total stranger’s life. Why was everyone else so thrilled? She was being stalked, her life was being invaded. For all she knew, Alan was in there calling the
Today
show. Maybe it would just be easier if Lacey threw herself off the balcony. Monica could comfort him, she could fall in love with him, she could marry him. Over her dead body. Monica might have won this round, but she was definitely going to come out the loser. Even if it killed her.
 
She’s stalking me,
Lacey texted Kelly Thayler from the restaurant.
She brought a suitcase.
Where are you? Can I come?!!!!!
Lacey shoved her BlackBerry into her purse. That’s all she needed, her other stalker. They sat at the table like normal people, tearing into bread that was going to fill them up before dinner, sipping wine, pretending everything was normal. It wasn’t. Lacey purposefully let Monica order first, resenting the obvious glee Monica showed as if she were relishing the thought that they would order the exact same thing again, regaling Alan with the story of their luncheon, as if a double order of curry chicken salad were some kind of miracle. Whatever Monica ordered, Lacey was going to get the exact opposite. She prayed Monica would order anything but the penne à la vodka. Lacey really, really wanted the penne à la vodka.
“I’ll have the penne à la vodka,” Monica said when Lacey gestured for her to go first. Lacey didn’t dare look at Alan; he knew that’s what she always ordered. She was going to kick him under the table if he said anything. He didn’t, but he did treat her to a look and a big grin. When the waitress looked at Lacey, she pointed to her least favorite item on the menu, a seafood medley with mussels, scallops, and clams. Disgusting, but necessary.
“Mussels, scallops, and clams,” she saw the waitress repeat slowly and clearly, as if repeating the order back to a child.
“Really?” Alan said. “You hate seafood.” It was true, she did, but she hated Monica more.
“I can’t eat anything that won’t come out of its shell,” Monica said. Alan roared with laughter and slapped the table.
“That’s just like her,” he said pointing at Lacey. The waitress, now thoroughly confused, looked at Lacey again. Lacey pointed to the seafood medley again, nodded yes in an exaggerated manner, and waved her away.
“Thank you,” Monica called after the waitress.
“Why were you thanking her?” Lacey asked, using Alan as the interpreter. After all, it was his fault they were here; the least he could do was interpret.
“I was just being polite,” Monica said. “Waiting tables is such a hard job.” She gave Lacey a little smile. Lacey realized with a start that she’d just embarrassed Monica. Is this how it would have been growing up? Would Lacey have been the Black Sheep Twin? The evil doppelganger? An embarrassment to the entire family? She could picture Monica trailing after her, demurely apologizing for her after every outburst. As if she could feel Lacey was thinking bad thoughts about her, Monica excused herself and went to the restroom.
I have to pee too,
Lacey thought with a surge of resentment.
Are we really that much alike? Identical taste buds, identical bladders?
She hated the constant comparisons but she couldn’t help it. Why did she have to go by Benjamin Books that day? She wanted to go back in time, back when there was only one of her.
Alan leaned forward. “What is going on with you?”
“What?” Lacey asked.
“You hate seafood, especially anything in a shell, and don’t tell me you don’t.”
“She followed me here. How did she even know I was coming to see you?”
“You didn’t tell her?”
“No, I didn’t tell her.”
Mike.
She should have known.
The traitor.
“I told her I never wanted to see her again.”
“Why? She told me about your afternoon together. Lunch. Canoeing. It sounds like a lot of fun.”
“And then I told her to get lost.” Alan pushed back from the table.
“Here we are again,” he said. “You didn’t tell me any of this.”
“I don’t want to talk about her. This is supposed to be a romantic dinner for two. We’re getting married, remember?”
Alan pointed to the restroom.
“Is she the reason you asked me to marry you?”
“What?”
“Don’t play games with me. I know you.”
“I don’t want her here. I didn’t ask her here. You invited her to move in with me! A stranger. Without even asking me.” The look on Alan’s face shifted back to neutral. She was coming back.
“Just give her a chance,” Alan said. “She really wants to get to know you.” Monica smiled as she took her seat, but Lacey knew she felt the tension between them. Or was Lacey just assuming Monica felt everything she did? It had taken a month to get back in a good place with Alan. Now Monica was poised to ruin it, make Lacey look like the bad guy, the twin who wouldn’t “play nice.” So that’s what she would do. For now. When they were away from Alan, it would be a whole different ball game. When the waitress set the mound of clams, mussels, and scallops in front of her, Lacey looked at her with her best helpless and confused expression. She held out her hands.
“I can’t eat this,” she said. She pointed at Monica’s dish. “I’ll have that.” The waitress whisked her seafood away with a pitying nod. Lacey picked up her fork, leaned in, and stabbed it into Monica’s plate. Alan gave her a dirty look, but Monica looked as happy as a rejected clam.
 
Back at the hotel, Rookie and Snookie were standing at opposite sides of the bed, snarling at one another. A shredded pillow lay between them. Monica scooped up Snookie, who continued to snap and growl from her arms.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. Lacey shrugged and then snuck Rookie a treat. At least someone was on her side. Lacey glanced at Monica’s suitcase.
“Did you break up with your boyfriend?” she asked.
“We’re just taking a break,” Monica said.
“Why?” Lacey asked.
“This sounds like a private conversation,” Alan said.
“But you have to interpret,” Lacey said.
“I won’t be there when you two are back in Philly,” Alan said.
“We’re fine,” Monica said. “We spent the whole day without an interpreter, didn’t we, Lacey?” Lacey understood every word she said. She turned to Alan.
“What did she say?”
“She said you spent the whole day without an interpreter.”
“We wrote back and forth, we used gestures, we took off our clothes,” Monica said. Alan, who was about to leave the room, stopped.
“You did what?” he said. Monica giggled.
“Just our bras and panties,” she said, winking at Lacey.
“We should go,” Lacey said. “Alan has an early day tomorrow.”
“I’ll pay for the cab,” Alan said, taking out his cell phone. Monica picked up her suitcase.
“I’ll wait outside,” she said. “Give you some privacy.” The minute she left, Alan wrapped Lacey into a hug.
“I’m glad you gave her a chance,” he said. “I think this is a good thing.”
“We’ll see,” Lacey said. “I just don’t want to lose you.” He took her in his arms and held her. Then he let her go, kissed her, and signed: “Never.” She reached for his zipper.
“What are you doing?” Alan said. “She’s waiting.”
“Let her,” Lacey said.
 
Monica went through Lacey’s house like a prospective buyer, touching everything in sight, making constant comparisons. She had this or that book, she liked this or that magazine, her clock was almost exactly the same except it told time in Swahili. Lacey didn’t know what she was saying half the time and she didn’t care the other half. She was too busy figuring out how to get rid of her. Her options, thus far, were:
a.
Drop in on Monica’s boyfriend, make him take her back.
b.
Drop in on Monica’s parents, tell them their daughter was stalking her.
c.
Use reverse psychology: Crawl into Monica’s skin like she was trying to crawl into hers.
d.
Take her to a Deaf event.
Monica didn’t know sign language. One on one, she was handling herself pretty well, but if she was surrounded by Deafies, she might just crack. For many hearing people, it was a bewildering and isolating experience. That was it. If Monica wanted a taste of her world, Lacey would give her a whole meal. With any luck, Monica would choke on it, or at least eat and run.
“I want to introduce you to some of my friends,” Lacey said. She picked up her BlackBerry and texted Robert.
“Really?” Monica said. “You’re not mad I’m here?”
“You should have called first,” Lacey said.
“I couldn’t take the chance that you would say no,” Monica said. “I had to see you again. I had to.”
“You don’t mind hanging out with a few Deafies, do you?” Lacey asked. Monica smiled at Lacey.
“I want to meet your friends,” she said. It was crude and imperfect. Nevertheless, Lacey was completely horrified. Monica had said it in sign language.
 
Monica had the best night ever. There were so many Deaf people packed into the little downtown bar, and the room had a palpable excitement, an energy you could feel all around the room. Deaf people were funny, and talkative, and smart, and nice. They were nothing like her sister. Much, much nicer. And American Sign Language was so beautiful. And she noticed she liked some people’s signing better than others; she could see Deaf people had individual signing styles, like hearing people had accents and intonations. She loved her sister’s signing the best, she was pretty sure, and she wasn’t just saying that because they were sisters. People’s expressions varied too, in intensity and style. It was a whole new, cool world.
She was hugged a lot too, genuine hugs from people she didn’t even know. And they were so patient with her, for signing so slow, for asking for so much repetition. She couldn’t understand everything, they were so fast. Signs started to blur together, and she nodded her head as others were talking to her, but a few times she was nodding to nothing, just praying they wouldn’t ask her a question and catch on that she was clueless. How could she suddenly forget everything she learned in class? But she had, it was gone, she was simply watching movement in the air. She couldn’t wait until her sign language improved and she would know what these vivacious people were talking about. They seemed so happy to be together, and why wouldn’t they? Most of their time was spent where hearing people were the majority; here they could just be themselves. She noticed saying good-bye was a process that often took hours, folks standing by the door, hugs and kisses over with an hour ago, still chatting away. She was exhilarated but drained, and suddenly felt tired, as if she needed to sleep. Did Lacey notice? Is that why she took her home so soon?
BOOK: My Sister's Voice
2.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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