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My Twin Loves

By: christo



Tell me your troubles, please. I want to hear, I want to help. You see, I'm a member of the fraternity, the brotherhood of unhappy men. Women consume our thoughts, don't they? We can't get girls to notice us, we don't know how to amuse them once we catch their eye, we don't know how to make them happy after they decide our sorry souls are worth their trouble. We're lost at sea, adrift. We all have our problems.

It's just that my problems are worse than yours. Twice as bad, actually. 

I'm sorry, I'm being selfish. I'm not looking for sympathy, really. I see lonely people and my heart aches, because I know what they're missing. I know how wonderful it is to love someone and have that love returned. I couldn't be more deeply in love than I am right now. I'm hopeless. The fact that this love is based on lies, deception, and my willingness to ignore reality doesn't change a thing. I'm in love. 

I'm in love, and for a few weeks more everything will be OK, before the truth comes out and my life changes forever. I wish by closing my eyes I could shut out the world. But now it's too late. 

I should explain.

A Friday night in April, and spending it bar-hopping didn't appeal to me. I wanted quiet, and that's what I got, a good book in a comfortable chair and no one to bother me. But around nine o'clock I got a rather pointed craving for mint chocolate chip ice cream. I couldn't shake it, I just HAD to have some. 

So ten minutes later there I was in the supermarket, stomping down the frozen food aisle. The glass door to the freezer was open, another snacker rooting around for a quart of creamy goodness. The glass so fogged I couldn't see who it was, and I tapped my foot, waiting patiently for my turn. 

The door slowly swung shut, and it was like the curtain lifting as the actors take the stage. She looked up, saw me staring, and she smiled at me, a sweet, serene smile, and all thoughts of ice cream fled my mind. It was love at first sight. I mean LOVE, not lust, not some chemical imbalance polluting my brain. This was an arrow from Cupid straight to my heart.

She was wearing old jeans and a gray sweatshirt and her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a bushy ponytail. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. She was tall and very thin, and her skin was flawless as porcelain. Her eyes were the dark, swirling blue of the deep ocean. She looked like a china doll. But she looked me straight in the eye and her frank smile told me that she was no doll. She was definitely all girl.

"I guess I'm not the only one with a sweet-tooth," she said in a flute-like voice, holding up two pints of butter pecan.

I said "Uh, uh, uh-huh." She was so beautiful I actually gaped at her until she asked me what flavor I was looking for. "It doesn't matter," I said, awestruck by her beauty. 

We chatted for a few minutes, I can't recall what we talked about, but she was nice and kind and laughed at my lame jokes. Eventually we made our way to the checkout and bought our goodies. Her car was parked on one side of the lot, my car the other. Now or never, buddy. "I know this sounds crazy, I don't go around picking up girls in grocery stores, but would you like to have dinner with me sometime? Or coffee? Or ice cream? Or..."

"I'd love to." Her smile was utterly guileless, she showed every one of her pearly, perfect teeth. Every time she smiled these tiny crinkles formed around her dark blue eyes, and that just totaled me. She gave me butterflies. It was one of those rare perfect moments in your life that you know you'll treasure forever. Perfect. 

"I'm sorry, I don't even know your name. I'm Mike." I held out my hand.

She paused. "I'm Lynn," Her cool fingers nested in my palm. We exchanged phone numbers and said shy goodnights, and I got in my car and sat there a long time, pressing the hand that Lynn touched against my face. I was that far gone.

I went home to my empty apartment and bounced off the walls for an hour. I had to tell SOMEONE what had happened. I knew my friend Rick was out for the night but I called his number and left a message. "Ricky, I just met the most amazing, incredible, wonderful girl in the world!"

It turned out I was only half right.

*****

I called her Saturday, she was free, we made a date. The whole day I was like a kid whose parents have said they were going to Disney World...tomorrow. Overexcited. Bouncing off the walls. 

You know how, when you ask a girl out, a girl you just met, you don't really have a firm grasp of how she looks? I mean, you thought she was attractive enough to risk asking her out, but when you close your eyes and try to picture her she's still fuzzy around the lines. It was the same with Lynn. I knew she was beautiful, but when I daydreamed about her, about kissing her, making love to her, which I did the whole day, I couldn't quite get her in focus.

That was why, when I rang the doorbell of her house, I was rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see her. And when the door opened, and there she was, wearing jeans again and her hair up in that ponytail, I sighed like a lovesick calf. 

"Hi, Lynn."

She let me have that megawatt smile, the corners of her eyes crinkled the way they had the night before, her perfect teeth shone like tiny white stones. "I'm not Lynn," she giggled.

For a second my brain didn't work. She wasn't Lynn? It didn't compute. This wasn't the angel I met last night? For a nauseous second I thought this was some cruel way to give me the brush off. 

"I'm Amy," she said. "Lynn's sister."

"Sister..." the voice in my head sounded like Darth Vader when he reads Luke's mind and learns the truth about Princess Leia. "Um, uh, I..."

"I guess she didn't tell you she had a twin?"

"No."

She giggled musically. "Didn't mean to scare you like that. Come on in." 

Identical twins. Whattya know? I followed Amy up the stairs and resisted the urge to kiss her. I was rattled. I fell in love with Lynn the second I saw her. I felt the exact same blissful rush when I saw Amy. Was I in love? Insane? When Amy turned and asked me to have a seat, and my stomach did flip-flops, I knew I was in trouble.

"How was your ice cream?" I asked.

"Exactly what I wanted! We were watching a movie and Lynn looked at me and we both said, 'Butter pecan' at the same time. She lost the coin toss to see who had to go to the grocery store."

A coin toss. If it had come up heads instead of tails, I would've asked out Amy the night before. I'd be talking to Lynn right now. What if they'd gone together? Could I have picked one over the other? I felt guilty even thinking that. They were two individuals, two different people who happened to look a lot alike. I looked at Amy and decided that I was mature enough to consider her the sister of a girl I was crazy about. I was mentally patting myself on the back when I heard a soft voice behind me said, "Hi, Mike."

The prettiest girl in the world stood in the doorway. Her hair fell in coppery waves to her shoulders, her blue eyes shone like stars, her lips were the same pale purple as the loose-knit blouse she wore. She took my breath away. I stood on shaky legs. "You look...wonderful."

She smiled. Her smile was exactly the same as Amy's, down to the wrinkles around her eyes. I looked at Lynn, then Amy, then back to Lynn. 

"I probably should have warned you," Lynn said with a familiar giggle.

Of course identical twins look alike, that's the whole point. But even with twins there are subtle differences, here and there that, that make two unique faces out of one. Lynn and Amy, as far as I could tell, were perfectly identical This was only the second time I'd seen Lynn, and the first time I'd seen Lynn and her twin together, but the effect was eerie. It was like they could teleport across the room, I looked this way and she was sitting in the living room, I looked that way and she was standing in the doorway. 

"Warned me about what?" I asked. They both laughed, and it was downright creepy, they laughed EXACTLY alike, their faces took on the same expression. But what lovely faces.

Lynn and I went to dinner, then we took a long walk through a local park, talking for hours. I learned that Lynn's parents died when the twins were two, and they'd been raised by their maternal grandmother. She and Amy both taught 3rd grade, in adjoining school districts. And, yes, she knew how remarkably alike she and her sister were.

"Even our friends have trouble telling us apart."

"You've never had different hairstyles, never dyed you hair?

"I like my hair this way, and so does Amy. You don't?"

I told her I did, I told her that changing her beautiful hair in any way would be a crime against humanity. I thought she would laugh, but she didn't. There was a sudden, serious silence. We stopped under a lamp-post, the sun was going down, it was a gorgeous evening. She looked at me, waiting for me to do what I'd wanted to do all night.

"I'm really glad I met you last night," I said.

"So am I."

I leaned down, she leaned in, we kissed. It was a quick kiss, just a few seconds of my lips touching hers. She put her hand on my shoulder, I put mine on her hip. 

"I think I like you," she said. "A lot."

"I think I like you too." We kissed again, a bit longer this time. When we parted she rubbed her thumb across my lips. "Lipstick." 

We walked back to the car hand-in-hand. I wanted to tell her I loved her. I wanted to ask her to marry me. I wanted to jump on the roof of my car and make monkey noises. Instead I drove her home and walked her to the door.

"I had a wonderful time," she said.

"So did I."

"Will you call me again?"

"Are you kidding? I might call you from the driveway before I leave."

She giggled, then her face turned serious, and we kissed good night. As she walked through the door I saw Amy sitting in the living room. She smiled and waved. I waved back. "Bye," Lynn said.

I lingered on the doorstep with my eyes closed, savoring the moment. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. But I heard the voice coming through the door.

There was a giggle, then I heard a faint voice, "You like him too?"

It was the word "too" that threw me. I was already a bit shaken about my reaction to meeting Amy. Was she attracted to me? That seemed both too weird and too good to be true. As I walked back to the car, I thought about it. Maybe Lynn had described me to Amy, and now that we'd met, Lynn wanted Amy's opinion. That made sense. 

Except...something nagged at me. When it hit me I was coming to an intersection and I almost blew through a red light. The voice I'd heard. It was faint, much fainter than the giggling. It must have been Amy who'd asked the question. Now, why would Amy ask Lynn if she liked me "too"? It didn't make sense. Maybe I'd heard wrong. But I hadn't. I was sure I'd heard Amy. And what did that mean? 

I got home, got undressed, got under the covers, and decided it didn't mean anything. I was in love. I'd met the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I fell asleep dreaming of the day when Lynn would lie next to me, to hold all night long. 

That was the easy night I've known.

*****

On Sunday I called Lynn around eleven. Hearing her voice, hearing her laugh at my jokes, it put all worries out of my head. "I want to see you," I said.

"You know where I live."

"I can be there in fifteen minutes."

"Then why are we still talking on the phone?"

Eighteen minutes later (church was letting out) I was sitting on the sofa and Lynn was sitting in my lap and we were kissing. My hands were on her tiny waist, moving up to her breasts by millimeter increments. 

"This is happening so fast," she said.

"Too fast?"

She kissed me hard. "Not fast enough."

I let my hand move up, up, until my palm rested on her breast. She closed her eyes. I gently kneaded the soft swell through her T-shirt. Her breasts were small and firm, and she wasn't wearing a bra. Her hardened nipple showed through the thin material.

"I've never felt this way about a girl before," I said. "Not this fast."

She kissed me. Then she rubbed her thumb across my lips. "Lipstick."

If she'd slapped me I wouldn't have been more shocked. She'd done the exact same thing last night. The exact same thing. But...it didn't feel the same. There was something about the gesture that didn't feel right. I couldn't put my finger on it. She might do the exact same thing two days in a row, sure. I'd liked it when she did it the night before. I liked it now. But it didn't feel the same. 

I looked up into her sparkling blue eyes...and felt like I was looking at a stranger.

This wasn't Lynn. 

It was Amy.

I was sure of it.

She leaned down and we kissed and a tremor ran through my body. "What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said, but I couldn't control my face, or my voice.

"Honey, what?"

I thought of an honest lie. "I almost said those three little words, and it's too soon for that." I touched her cheek with my fingertips.

She looked at me with such tenderness it about broke my heart. "It is too soon."

"I know," I interrupted, "But right now, with how beautiful you look, I can't stop how I feel."

She took my hand, lifted her shirt, and put it against her bare breast. "It's hard for me too."

The room whirled around me. I didn't know if this was Lynn, or Amy. I didn't know if I cared. All I did know was that the warm breast in my palm felt wonderful. 

"When is Amy coming home?"

"Soon."

My thumb circled her nipple. Her eyes slowly closed and she lowered her head until our foreheads touched. "How soon?"

"Too soon," she whispered.

It turned out to be thirty seconds later. We heard the garage door going up, so we had time to disengage and take a few deep breaths. Amy came up the stairs carrying two grocery bags and said, "You kids weren't being naughty, were you?"

"No," Lynn giggled.

I didn't giggle. I goggled. Today, both twins had their hair down. They both wore jeans and T-shirts. They both wore pale purple lipstick. And they looked exactly alike. I couldn't tell them apart. No way. I couldn't tell which one I was in love with. My mind couldn't comprehend that the girl walking up the stairs wasn't the girl I'd been with the night before. And the feeling I had that I'd just been making out with Amy was strong as ever. 

"Do you need any help bringing things up?" I asked. 

"Oh, no thanks," Amy said, and she smiled at me, and it was Lynn smiling back at me. I felt it in my bones. 

I had to get out of there, right now. I had to think. I had to scream. "Oh, shoot, is it noon yet?" I asked.

Lynn checked the clock on the wall behind me. "Quarter to." 

"I forgot, I'm supposed to call my mom to tell her when I'm coming in for dinner tonight. Always have Sunday dinner with my folks."

"That's so sweet," Lynn said. "You can use our phone."

"Actually, I should get going, I have things to do around the house." I gave her a sly smile. "I hadn't planned on rushing over here this morning."

She returned the smile. "Let me walk you to your car."

At my car she put her arms around me and kissed me on the lips. "It's crazy. I just met you, and I feel like I know you so well."

"Me too," I lied.

"It's can be so hard to trust someone this much, but I knew the second I met you that you would never do anything to hurt me."

"I never would," I said, and meant it.

"Go home, call you mom."

"I can't wait to tell her about this incredible girl I met."

She liked that, she smiled and her eyes shone. I kissed her goodbye. I watched her go back in the house as I drove away. I drove maybe 100 feet, turned on a side street, and parked. My hands were shaking. 

Was I crazy? Was it conceivable that these two girls were taking turns with me? I couldn't imagine that Lynn would be twisted enough to do something like this. But did I even know who Lynn was? Who did I meet that first night? Who did I go to dinner with? Whose breast had I touched? 

Were they all the same person?

Did I really want to know?

I started the car and drove home. I tried to think. The most obvious and direct solution was to ask "Lynn" if maybe they'd played a little game with me. I could just imagine her reaction-outrage would be perfectly reasonable. No, I'd have to figure this out on my own. Maybe I just had an overactive imagination. But I didn't think so. 

I got home and dug through my desk and found a college-ruled 3-subject notebook. I got out a pen and wrote, "April 14.". I wrote a brief description of what had happened the night I met Lynn. Then I wrote entries for the last two days. 

I labeled the next two sections "Number 1" and "Number 2". The girl I met in the grocery store I called Number 1. The girl I'd just made out with was Number 2. I would keep try to come up with a dossier on each twin, trying to find the tiny differences between them that would help me prove or debunk my hypothesis. 

That's how I referred to the woman I loved. "Number 1".

*****

The next three months did nothing to help me solve the mystery. 

My friends loved Lynn when they met her, and loved the fact that she had a twin sister even more. To a man, they asked me to fix them up. To a man, I said no. I lied and told them that Amy had just gotten over a bad breakup and wasn't ready to date. Over and over they asked me, "How the hell do you tell them apart?"

They pestered me, and I ignored them. I didn't ignore my dilemma. I tried my best to figure out if the twins playing some sick game, or if I was the sick one. The results were inconclusive. I filled the notebook with observations, insights, suspicions. I took lots of pictures of Lynn, and she never objected. I took several pictures of the twins together, and again, no problem. I studied those photos as closely as a CIA analyst looking for nuclear sites in Iraq. My frantic eye could discern no obvious physical differences. None. Zero. Same height, to the centimeter. Same weight, to the gram. Same smile, same lips, same eyes, same hair. Both girls had wonderful hair, dirty blonde with streaks of brown and red throughout. I tried detecting subtle differences in the shadings and patterns of those streaks. I couldn't. Their hair was the same down to the individual strands. 

It wasn't just their faces that were identical. I started looking for tiny differences that wouldn't be easy to mimic. Problem was, they didn't have any tiny differences. No birthmarks, no scars, no blemishes. Their skin was pure as milk.

For a week I made a careful study of Lynn's fingernails, to see if, say, the nail on her index finger suddenly grew a half inch. Nothing. I gave her massages and memorized the pattern of freckles on her neck. They never changed. One night our kissing became even more intense than usual, and she took her shirt off and let me suck on her small, pink nipples. As I suckled her I carefully catalogued the shape, size, and taste of her nipples. The next four times I got her shirt off, and my tongue brought her buds to perfect rosy tips, they looked the same. Tasted the same. I surfed the Internet for tips on lifting and analyzing fingerprints, but Lynn was always conscientious about cleaning up after dinner and washing the dishes, so I couldn't get her prints off her glasses. 

It was like they were identical down to a molecular level. 

What about their friends? I hoped that the people who had known the twins the longest could help me figure things out. It turned out that while Lynn and Amy were very friendly girls, and knew lots of people, they didn't have what you would call close friends, buddies, pals. They had each other for that. 

But they didn't live on an island, and so I met their fellow teachers and neighbors and a few friends from school. And every single one of them asked me the same question five minutes after I met them, "So, do YOU know how to tell them apart? Because I can't."


My Twin Loves



There was one girl, Donna, whom I suppose could be called the twins' best friend. She went to high school and college with them. She'd known Lynn and Amy longer than anyone else in the world. My gang went to a sports bar for a hockey game and the twins brought Donna along. I'd been dating Lynn about two months at this point and was desperate for information that would either prove or debunk my hypothesis.

During the first intermission Lynn told me that Donna thought my friend Pete was cute. Donna was short and blonde and perky, and Lynn asked me if I might put in a good word. I said of course, but when Lynn walked back to the bar I told Donna it was going to cost her.

"Really? What do you want?"

I took her hand and pulled her into the seat next to mine. "Information."

For the next fifteen minutes I interrogated Donna about Lynn. Most of the information she gave me was useless, but there was one subject we discussed that was very illuminating. I asked about Lynn's old boyfriends, and she said, "Well, she really doesn't have any."

"What? None?"

She shook her head. "I mean, she dated lots of guys, she and Amy both did, but neither ever had a real steady guy. You're the record-holder."

I found that hard to believe and I said so. "I know, we used to talk about it-I mean the other girls in our group back in school. Lynn would date a guy, and Amy would say she didn't like him. Amy would go out with someone, and Lynn would shake her head and say she didn't know what Amy saw in him. They would get into some pretty nasty fights about it, too."

"I can't imagine them arguing."

"They never did, and never do, except about boys. I don't know, maybe when one is dating, the other is afraid of being left behind, and they fight. I've never met two people who are closer to each other than Lynn and Amy. You have to remember, all the family they've ever had is each other."

There was a question I wanted to ask, and I finished the final four ounces of my Rolling Rock before I gathered enough courage. "Is Lynn a virgin?"

Her lips curled down. "I don't think I should answer that."

I shook my head. "You're right, it's wrong of me to even ask"

A huge roar filled the bar-the Penguins had tied the game. Donna took a big gulp of her beer and leaned forward. "She is." 

"Oh," I said, trying to keep the elation out of my voice.

"Amy is too."

I said "Oh" again. The waitress came and I ordered another round. "I need to know something. Can you tell them apart? Is there a trick to it, something you've figured out since you've known them so long?"

She shrugged, and shook her head. "I can't tell them apart. No one at school could either." She looked over my shoulder, making sure the twins were absorbed in the game. "Lynn's better at math than Amy. Amy's good at English. Back in high school, and in college, they would switch places for tests. No one ever caught on. I didn't either. Lynn told me one night when she had a bit too much to drink."

"Wow," I said, more disturbed than I let on.

"I know, you wouldn't think girls as nice as that would do something, well, dishonest. But they did." Our waitress set two green bottles on the table and I took a long pull at mine. I looked over at Lynn, watching the game with ferocious intent, and Donna grabbed my hand to refocus my attention. "She's a great girl. I love her to death. If you hurt her, I'll kick you in the nuts."

"That's strange, Pete was talking about how he'd like to meet a girl who likes kicking guys in the nuts. He gets off on that."

A minute later I was introducing Donna to Pete. I stayed just long enough to let their conversation take flight, and then left them for my seat next to Lynn. 

"What were you talking about?"

"She wanted to warn me about what would happen if I ever hurt you. She's violent, did you know that?"

She giggled. "Then why are you fixing her up with Pete?"

"Because I don't like Pete."

"Are you even watching the game?" Amy complained, and just as she turned Mario Lemieux fired the puck between the goalie's legs. The bar erupted, and as I watched Amy's face turn from me to the screen, and then blossom into an expression of joy, I remembered the same expression on the face of the girl I kissed under the lamppost in the park. I turned left, and Lynn's face had the same triumphant smile. 

I yelled something appropriate and let Lynn kiss me, but my heart was troubled. I couldn't shake the feeling that the girl kissing me tonight wasn't the girl I kissed the day before. 

It turned out it wasn't just a feeling. Because, a few weeks later, I got some evidence.

The first time Lynn visited my house I gave her the grand tour. I made dinner and we both cleaned up afterward. A week later Lynn came over again, and I was very curious to see if "Lynn" knew her way around.

She passed with flying colors. She knew where the bathroom was. When I asked her to get the coffee out of the cupboard, she knew which one to look in. The first time she came over she'd especially liked a photograph of Pittsburgh at night that I have hanging in my office. When she saw it again she said, "I really do like that picture," as though she'd commented on it before.

But. The first time Lynn came over, I showed her a picture of me with my mother when I graduated from college. It sat on a table in my living room. The second time Lynn came over, I switched pictures. It was still a picture of me at graduation, but it was me and my Aunt Karen, my mother's sister. They look a bit alike, but they're far from identical. 

It was a setup. 

I maneuvered Lynn to the couch, seating her so she could see the picture. After we watched the movie and I'd gone for more popcorn, Lynn welcomed me back with a smile and motioned to the picture. "You really do have your mother's eyes," she said. 

She'd said the same thing the week before. Made the same observation about my mother. And now she'd said the same thing about my aunt. I felt something twist inside me, twist tight then snap. "Oops, have something in my eye," I said. I ran to the bathroom, flushed the toilet, and vomited into the swirling vortex.

That wasn't Lynn. It was Amy. Or, it was Lynn this time, and Amy had been here the week before.

Or, to be consistent, Number 2 was here tonight, and Number 1 had been here before. 

Two weeks later Lynn and I had dinner with my parents. I introduced her to Mom and Dad and carefully watched her reaction. And there was one. She had her megawatt smile on for my father, but when she shook my mother's hand, there was a brief hesitation, a quick flash of confusion. Then she caught herself, that smile blazed forth, and all was well. 

As we left the restaurant my mother grabbed my arm. "You let this one go, I disown you." We said our goodnights, and then Lynn and I walked back to my car. 

"You're mother looks different than I imagined," she said. There was the tiniest edge to her voice. 

"How so?" I said with practiced nonchalance.

"That picture you have at home. She looked...she didn't look like I expected." 

I held the door open for her and she didn't get in. She was staring at me. She suspected something. I was gripping the door handle so hard I thought I might break it off. 

"Her hair's a lot different now," I said. "It used to be straight, but now she's wears it curly." A lie. My mother's hair has been curly since the day she was born. My Aunt Karen's is straight as rain. The girl standing in front of me had only seen the picture for five seconds. She was thinking, thinking. I smiled at her. And then, just like that, her face softened, and she leaned against the door.

"I like your parents."

"They adore you. They like you more than they like me."

She kissed me. "Let's go home."

We drove back to her house, we sat on the couch, and I spent an hour kissing Amy. *****

But that was the only slip I caught. Not that I didn't keep trying. One night, when we were at my place watching a movie, I asked Lynn if Amy had ever shown an interest in any of my friends. I was just fishing. 

"No," she said.

"Would you mind if sometime I asked Rick over and had you and Amy over to see if, uh, maybe they hit it off?"

It was the first time I detected a chill in Lynn's musical voice. "I don't think Amy would be interested."

"Oh, OK."

"Why are you so determined to fix my sister up with someone?" She was upset, but hiding it.

"I'm not. It's just that Rick is a nice guy, he thinks Amy is nice, she's not seeing anyone..." I threw that line out, fishing some more.

"I know Rick is a nice guy. And if Amy wanted to go out with him, she'd let him know." Then she said something that chilled my very marrow. "Wouldn't it bother you, wouldn't you think it was weird, if my sister dated one of your friends?"

It wasn't just what she said, it was how she said it. Those blue eyes burned into me. She was angry. But the reason why she was angry was left unspoken. "Why would it bother me?" I asked. Even though it WOULD bother me, it would make me crazy. If the twins really were switching back and forth with me, then the girl I loved would be going to the movies with Rick. And that was totally unacceptable. 

Lynn still hadn't answered my question. So I asked it again. She paused, thinking. Then she said, "What if Amy started dating Rick, and it didn't work, wouldn't it be tough for him to see us together?" 

It was plausible. Her concerns made sense. 

And it was bullshit. That wasn't why she was upset. She was upset because if Amy started dating Rick, she would be dating Rick too. She was upset because both twins were dating me and they didn't want to date anyone else. 

I know it sounds arrogant. Nothing could be further from the truth. She looked at me and there was a challenge in her eyes. Go ahead, her eyes said. Ask.

Or maybe I was just seeing things. Not that it mattered. I didn't have the courage. "Well, I guess I see your point."

She smiled, I think with relief that I'd passed the test. "It's nice that you want Amy to be as happy as you've made me." 

"I make you happy?"

"Very happy."

She kissed me, hard, her tongue driving into my mouth. I put my hands on her breasts. She untucked my shirt and ran her hands over my chest, my stomach. Then her hand moved down to my thigh. 

She said, "Honey, I want to do something to you."

"To" me. "What?" I said, watching her hand move between my legs.

Her tongue touched her upper lip. "I want to make you feel good."

"Lynn." She began unbuckling my belt. My breathing quickened. She wasn't going to...no... 

She unzipped me. "Lynn." She stood and helped me to my feet and then she pulled my pants down. I was hugely erect. "You're so big," she whispered. 

She didn't have to do this. I wanted to tell her that she didn't need to do this. I loved her anyway. I wanted to tell her that but the words wouldn't come.

She said, "I want to show you how much love I have to give you."

She pushed me down on the sofa and knelt between my opened legs. She took my penis in her hand and looked at it like it was the first one she'd ever seen. She said, "You're so hard." Her soft lips parted, she lowered her head, and I felt her warm mouth engulf my penis. She closed her eyes and slid her lips up and down my shaft, up and down, up and down. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I couldn't believe that this sweet, gentle girl was doing this dirty thing. Doing it so willingly. And so WELL. She sucked on me and her tongue swirled around my tip and in a minute I was rhythmically thrusting my hips to meet her slippery strokes. Her eyes were still closed, mine were locked on her beautiful face, on her mouth, which was giving me so much pleasure I couldn't bear it.

"Lynn, I love you," I said. 

She let my penis slip from her lips. "Then show me."

I couldn't bear it. Her mouth was hot and wet and I'd never received such pleasure in my life. I'd wondered what Lynn might be in bed. She was so innocent that I thought she might not be that open sexually. Forget that. I couldn't imagine her as a wildcat in the sack, I hadn't seen that in her. And now she had me whimpering like a puppy, totally under her control. 

"Lynn, I'm going to come, please." 

She didn't stop. "Oh, oh," I was on the brink. She didn't stop. I was breathing through my mouth, I arched my back. "Lynn!" I'd never had a girl let me come in her mouth before. But she did. I moaned and felt the warm spurts fill her mouth. I couldn't believe this angel let me do that. I didn't know what I believed anymore.

When I finished she put her head on my stomach. I was breathing so fast you'd have thought I'd run a 400-yard dash. "I guess you liked that," she giggled. 

"Oh yes," I sobbed. I was in tears. I was a mess. I was as happy as a man can be, and terribly confused. 

"Did you mean it when you said you loved me?" she asked.

I looked into her eyes. "I loved you the second I saw you."

"Say it again."

I did, and she said, "I love you too," and we lay there a long time, holding each other. She said, "I'm not ready yet to have sex. Is that OK?"

"Yes, of course, I..." I was disappointed, because I wanted to make love to her, and because Amy was out of town for a few days and we had all the time we wanted to be alone. I looked deep into her bottomless blue eyes, tracing the line of her jaw with my fingertips. "I can wait."

"Is it OK if I keep using my mouth on you? I love that."

Did I mind if she kept giving me brain-busting blowjobs? I laughed. "No, that's fine." It was just too good to be true.

And, hours later, when I was lying in bed and replaying the scene in my mind's eye, that thought stuck fast. It WAS too good to be true. I got up and walked to my desk and unlocked the bottom drawer. Tucked in the back was the notebook. I wrote my entry about the day's incredible events. That part of the notebook was almost full. But the sections about Number 1 and Number 2 weren't so heavily notated. 

But since Amy was out of town, and I was betting that it was Amy because she was chaperoning a school trip to a nature retreat, I filled two pages with notes about Number 1. 

That's when I came up with my theory as to why Lynn wanted to wait before we made love. Because Amy wasn't around. Maybe...maybe there was some kind of pact between the two of them. Maybe there was a pattern there. I met Number 1. My first date was with Number 2. It was Number 1 who came to my house the first time, Number 2 who met my parents. It was Number 1 who gave me a blow job. And, if my theory held, the first time we made love, it would be with Number 2. 

They must be witches, succubi, who would suck the life out of me and leave behind an empty husk. Those intense, meaningful looks they exchanged, what did they convey? Did they have one mind, shared between two identical bodies? They were binary souls, digital, a one and a zero, on and off. They formed their own personal, wireless Internet, downloading each other's thoughts, memories and experiences in nanoseconds, uploading gigabytes of data with a tilt of the head. 

I realized I was a little bit afraid of them. If they were capable of deception this monstrous, what else might they do?

I didn't sleep well that night. I tossed and turned, trying to think of a way out of this. 

I had to confront them. Tell them I knew their secret. Tell them it had to stop right now.

I didn't have the courage. What if they denied it? What then? How would I explain that for the past three months I'd suspected I was kissing Amy and said nothing about it? And, horror of horrors, what if I was WRONG? 

But I wasn't wrong.

I finally fell asleep, and when I woke up, I found that I'd come up with another way to fix the problem.

All I had to do was kill Amy. Problem solved. 

I ate a bowl of cereal and thought about the best way to murder the sister of the woman I loved. Her death would truly set me free. It would break Lynn's heart, but maybe that would just bring us closer together. The trauma would bind her to me so fiercely that nothing could ever come between us.

I can't say exactly how long I honestly thought about killing Amy, but I ate three bowls of Frosted Mini-Wheats mulling it over. The practical problems were as daunting as the moral ones. Killing Amy wouldn't do much for my chances with Lynn if she found out I did it, and I couldn't think of how to do the deed and get away with it. Shoot her? Poison her? Run her over with my car? Hit man?

And how could I be sure that it was Amy I killed and not Lynn? It still made a difference to me, though I couldn't be sure at this point which of my sweet memories were of Lynn and which were of Amy. It didn't matter. I wanted Lynn. Or, Number 1. And I didn't know who she was. I couldn't risk killing her.

I suppose it was all bullshit, all this plotting. I'm not a killer. I wouldn't hurt a fly. But my feelings for Lynn were so strong that there wasn't anything I wouldn't do to keep her. Anything short of murder. I was pretty sure I would draw the line at murder.

If I couldn't kill Amy, could I perhaps mark her in some way that couldn't be duplicated by Lynn? If, say, I "accidentally" cut off Amy's little toe, or cut her shoulder in a way that left a permanent scar, or if I splashed boiling water on her and it left a red burn mark behind...that would work just as well. 

But I wasn't sure I could do something really gruesome to Amy. I was either too cowardly or too decent to do something permanent like that. 

Draw the line. That gave me an idea, one that seemed so good at the time. I drove to the local mall and wandered around a bit. There was a big art supply store, with paint, brushes, canvases, the works. I wondered the aisles for awhile and found a huge display of Magic Markers. I read the labels of a half-dozen styles, and finally selected one that read "PERMANENT INK. WILL STAIN FABRIC. AVOID CONTACT WITH SKIN. CANNOT BE REMOVED WITH HOUSEHOLD SOAP".

Perfect.

Amy came back to town two days later. So, according to my theory, it was Amy who arrived at my door at 7PM that Saturday night. I'd just put the fish in the oven when she showed up, and she asked, "How long till dinner?"

"Maybe 20 minutes."

Her dark eyes gleamed with lust. "That's just enough time."

I sat on the sofa as she went down on me again. If this was Amy, and the first time was Lynn, I couldn't tell the difference. Their oral technique was exactly the same, exactly incredible. Lynn had done this mind-bending thing with her tongue, trilling along the underneath of my helmet, and Amy did the exact same thing. Ten minutes later I ejaculated into her hungry mouth and my orgasm was just as intense and wonderful as the first time. 

She drew her lips away from my sticky penis and smiled. "Don't worry. I haven't spoiled my appetite."

We ate. I was still in a kind of fugue state, my brain bubbling. If only I hadn't had these terrible doubts about the woman sitting across from me, I would have been the happiest man on earth, instead of the tortured wretch shoveling salmon into his mouth without tasting it. 

She helped me do the dishes. While she put the last pot in the dishwasher I opened a drawer and pulled out the marker. I had a recipe card out and I pretended that I was making a note on it. I'd tested the marker on myself, just a dot on my armpit. It was still there, after three days of concentrated scrubbing. It had faded, sure, but it was putting up a hell of a fight. 

The marker was in my right hand, hidden by my palm so only the wet tip stuck out. "Thanks, honey," I said when she shut the dishwasher. I held out my arms, she stepped into my embrace, and when we pulled away I reached for her hands. My right hand stubbed into her left, and the marker did it's job. I said, "Oh, shoot!" as it made a four-inch long streak from the center of her palm to her wrist.




My Twin Loves



She looked at her hand. She looked at it for a long time. "I'm sorry, I thought I put the cap on, I'm..."

She went to the sink and washed her hand. "It's not coming off."

"I'm sorry, it's a permanent marker, it'll probably..."

"It's not coming off," she interrupted, scrubbing the black line with the pot scrubber. She scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. I was afraid she would scrub until her flawless skin was raw meat. "Mike, it's not fucking coming off!"

It was the first time I'd ever heard her curse. "Darn" was her usual limit. My mouth felt full of sand. I managed to croak, "It's OK, honey, it'll wear off in a few days."

"You did it on purpose." She looked at me and the lights in her eyes winked out. 

I managed a weak smile. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," she said. But she did know. Otherwise, why would she be so upset? The kitchen was quiet as a tomb. We stood there, staring each other down like gunfighters. Neither of us said a word for a solid sixty seconds. I didn't know what to say, because what I wanted to say was unspeakable. I'd announced my suspicions by tagging her with the marker. Now I was terrified. She was standing right next to my knife block and for all I knew she would pull out the 8-inch carving knife and use it to preserve their secret. 

She didn't go for the knife, but I was soon wishing she had. "I'm leaving," she said. She got her jacket from the chair.

"Lynn! It was an accident!"

She wouldn't even look at me. Her jaw was set, her dark eyes fierce. "Don't call me. Don't come near me. I don't want to see you." Before I could say another word, she was gone. I was in shock. I looked out the window and watched her car back out of my driveway. Before her tail-lights vanished around the corner I had the phone in my hand.

"Hello?" Amy's musical voice brought me to tears. I was so afraid I'd never hear another kind word in those dulcet tones that hearing them so soon unmanned me. 

"Amy," I sobbed. "I need your help."

"Mike? What happened? Are you OK? Is Lynn there?"

"She just left. We had a fight. She..."

"What happened?" she barked. Instantly on edge. I told her about the last five minutes, the marker, the standoff, the exit. When I was done I waited for Amy to say something. She didn't. 

"Amy?"

Silence. "Amy!"

"You drew on her with a permanent marker." A statement, not a question. 

"No, I didn't draw on her. It was an accident."

"You just happened to have a black permanent marker in your hand and you just forgot to put the cap on and then you just brushed her hand with it? And you call that an...accident?"

"Yes!"

There was a long pause. When she spoke again, Amy's voice was exactly the same as Lynn's, the same icy modulation. "Didn't you have plans to take Lynn to dinner tomorrow? The Tin Angel?"

"Yes." 

"She can't very well go to dinner at a nice restaurant like that with a big black mark on her hand, can she? Maybe that's why she's so fucking angry!"

The bones in my legs turned to jelly, I fell to my knees. Amy was angry because SHE was supposed to have dinner with me tomorrow night. Dinner, and then home to kiss and nibble. And if Lynn had a big black mark on her hand, Amy couldn't morph into Lynn, could she? Unless she too marked her hand with black ink. And then...they wouldn't be able to be seen together, else everyone ask, "Wow, you BOTH had boo-boos with a marker?" 

"Amy, it was an accident."

"You aren't clumsy, Mike." There was a pause. "Lynn just pulled in the driveway."

That fast? She must have driven like a maniac. "Amy, please, put her on the phone, please."

"Wait..."

"Amy!"

"What?" 

"Please, tell her I love her. Please. I love her."

No answer. There was a clunk as she put the phone down, and then I heard muffled voices in the background. I couldn't make out the words. No one came back to the phone for a good five minutes. I was shouting into the receiver, trying to get either twin's attention. When I heard the scraping of the phone being picked up, I held my breath. "Hello?"

A pause. Then, a voice that trembled with sobs, "Mike, don't call here again. If you call back, it's over. I need to think. Do you understand?"

I said that I did. Before I could say another word, the line clicked dead. I set the phone down. I didn't even know which twin had issued the ultimatum. 

Did it matter?

I staggered to the kitchen. I drank a beer, then another, then another. I drank myself into a stupor, because that was the only way I could sleep. I slept and had no dreams, just an unbroken flow of blackness before my eyes. In Lynn, all my dreams had come true. And all my nightmares, too.

*****

Two weeks went by. I heard nothing. Nothing.

I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. Shaving became an ordeal, because every time I swept the blades over my throat I had to fight the keening urge to slash myself and be done with it.

I drank much too much. My boss called my parents because she thought I might be suicidal. My mother asked what happened. I couldn't tell her. She asked if I wanted her to talk to Lynn. I begged her not to. I still had hope. I still thought she might come back to me. I waited through fourteen days of hell, staring at the phone, howling like an addict because I couldn't call. 

I waited for the misery to pass, waited for my heart to finally begin to heal. I waited in vain. Every day was worse than the day before. Every day the blackness at the center of my soul spread like hot tar inside me. I drowned in tears. 

It was a Saturday, a gorgeous October morning, the sky an electric blue, not a cloud for five counties. A sweet breeze rattled the branches that surrendered their leaves a week earlier. The newspaper was lying in the driveway. I walked out in my bathrobe and bare feet, ignoring the cold, three days stubble on my cheeks, my hair matted with last night's sweat. 

A soft voice came from the street, by my mailbox. "Hey."

My head jerked up, I dropped the paper. Lynn slowly walked over and picked up the plastic-wrapped newspaper at my feet. Her car was parked in front of my house, where my pine tree hid it from view. She looked at me, and her dark eyes caught the weak sunlight and twinkled. She smiled and touched my stubbly jawline with her fingers. "Are you a mess."

She held up her hand. "See, you were right. That mark did come off, eventually." She was trying to make a joke, and I tried to smile politely. "Hey, hey," she said, brushing at the tears that stained my cheeks. She put her arms around me and hugged me tight. My own arms hung at my side, I didn't have the strength to do anything but cry. I was so destroyed from the past two weeks that my only reaction to any emotion-despair, rage, joy-were tears. 

Lynn led me inside. "Come on, let's get you in the shower." It was exactly what I needed. I shampooed and scrubbed, and when I emerged Lynn was standing there with my razor and shaving gel. It didn't even register that I was standing nude in front of her. I sat on the toilet seat while she lathered my face and carefully shaved me. It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me. 

What to say to her. "How's Amy?" I asked.

She smiled. "She's fine. Worried about you. Like I've been."

"Why would you be worried?"

"Because I called your mother, and she said you weren't doing well."

I let out a mirthless laugh. "No, I haven't done well the past two weeks."

She patted my face with the towel. "I haven't done well either." She helped me to my feet, and we walked out into the bedroom. While I was in the shower she'd made the bed and filled two laundry baskets with dirty clothes. "I missed you, Michael."

"You didn't call. All you had to do was pick up the phone."

She shook her head. "It wasn't that easy." She sat on the bed, I did the same. I had the feeling something important was about to happen, and I didn't know if it was going to be my salvation or my end. 

Her voice took on a faraway tone, like she was remembering something from years and years ago. "I was so angry at you. Just so...angry." Then she looked at me and returned to the present. "But I love you. I love you and I want to be with you." She took my hands in hers. "Can you forgive me, and forget that night ever happened?"

It was her way of admitting the truth. And of acknowledging that I knew what that truth meant. She couldn't ask me to pretend I was dating one sister when I was dating both, because then I wouldn't be pretending, would I? 

Would I agree to live a lie, based on mutual love and trust?

Could I forget that she and her sister had carefully deceived me the past four months? 

No, I couldn't forget. 

But. "I can forgive you anything. Anything. But I couldn't go through the past two weeks again. Not knowing if I would ever see you again." I looked at my bare feet. "What happened that night can never happen again. Ever."

It was my ultimatum. One or the other. They had to decide. Lynn sat looking at her hands for a long time, the she turned to me and smiled. "It will never happen again. I promise."

There was something sad in her eyes, something that made my heart feel heavy in my chest. I should have been happy that this nightmare was ending, but I wasn't. They both loved me. I loved them both. But it had to end. That's what I told myself. It had to end.

We kissed, softly at first, then with more heat. I was suddenly aware that I was naked. Lynn's fingers closed around my penis and slowly stroked me. She pushed me back and lowered her head into my lap. Her lips drew me into her mouth. In a minute I was quivering like a plucked bowstring, my body seconds away from release.

She stopped. She stood up, pulled off her sweater, then she unbuttoned her pants. I lay there transfixed as she stepped out of her panties. I'd never seen her in the nude. She was so beautiful it took my breath away, a beautiful, melancholy goddess. 

She said, "Make love to me." She crawled on the bed and lay next to me, her rich blonde hair splayed out on the pillow. I touched her stomach, the skin the same creamy white as her face. I moved on top of her, trembling with excitement. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please."

I felt like a fool. "I don't have any protection."

"Michael, please."

She slowly, slowly opened her legs. It was the most beautiful sight imaginable, this angel, lying on my bed waiting for me to love her.

I mounted her, sliding my left arm under her neck and using my right to guide my penis inside her. "Go slow, go slow..." 

I entered her slowly. Her eyes never left mine as I pushed myself inside. Until I was buried in her to the root, and then she squeezed her eyes shut and arched her back. She hissed, "I can feel you inside me."

I kissed her and she looked into my eyes. "You're the first one."

I thought I was going to cry again. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes...no! Don't pull out!" She grabbed my hips and pulled me down. She pleaded, "Don't stop!"

Oh God. It wasn't the physical pleasure that thrilled me so-although it was the most exquisite sensation I'd ever known. It was being inside her, joined with her, that made me moan with ecstasy. As I slowly thrust myself in and out I knew that these rapturous minutes would be the greatest in my life, that when I lay on my deathbed and my past flashed before my eyes this would be the signature moment of my existence, the memory that would allow me to slip from this world with a heart filled with joy and thanksgiving. 

I raised up on my hands to give my hips more freedom to move and Lynn's eyes sprang open as I started thrusting a bit harder, a bit faster, taking care not to hurt her. She slowly closed them again and moaned, a sound I matched as the friction drove me insane. She looked up at me and a huge smile slowly spread across her lips. "Fuck me, Michael." She giggled after she said that forbidden word. She stopped giggling when I started thrusting with more and more urgency, when I shot my arms under her knees and lifted her legs to my shoulders and started pumping like an animal. 

She had an orgasm, her whole body stiffened, then shook as I pushed myself deeper and deeper. She forced her face into the pillow as she came, her hair was twisted under her cheek, she looked hot and sexy I couldn't bear it. The dam finally burst and I flooded her. "Oh my God, it's so warm, it feels so good." I came until I was absolutely exhausted, and when it was over, I collapsed on her. We were sweaty, gasping, arms and legs twisted together. I rolled off of her and lay there staring at the ceiling. 


"I think we'll do that again," I joked, and instantly regretted it. The girl lying next to me might never be in my bed again. The other twin might be the one who became "Lynn". I wrapped my arms around her. "I love you."

"I love you too."

I kissed her cheek. I whispered, over and over into her ear, "I love you. I love you. I love you." That's how I sang her to sleep, with that lullaby.

She slept, I lay awake for a long time. I wondered how they would decide. They were choosing roles for the rest of their lives. I doubted they would have any trouble switching jobs, they'd just trade classrooms and coworkers. No one would ever know. For all I knew, they switched back and forth all the time. 

Maybe they would flip a coin again. Cut a deck of cards. Maybe the girl I met at the grocery store would win out because we met first. I didn't know, and for some reason I wanted to. I couldn't sleep, I was too uneasy in my mind.

The next day was Sunday. I gave up on sleep at 7AM and I made Lynn bacon and eggs for breakfast. She left just after nine, saying she needed to take care of some things at home. I knew what things she was talking about. When she left she stopped in the doorway, turned around and softly kissed me on the lips. "Goodbye, Michael," she said, and there was a sense of finality about it. It was a difficult moment. This nonsense had to stop. But someone was going to get hurt, someone I cared about very much. 

I kept myself busy the rest of the morning, catching up on two weeks worth of housework. Laundry. Vacuuming. Scrubbing the toilets. I waited for Lynn to call, all day. When the phone finally rang, around two, the tension was so great I had to swallow hard to keep my lunch from making a return appearance. 

"Hey you," she said.

"Hi."

"I love you."

I said I loved her too. She asked if I could come over later, around five, and I said you betcha. She was getting her hair done and wouldn't be home till them. She didn't mention what we'd discussed and I didn't bring it up.

I pulled in her driveway a little after five. Lynn met me at the door with a kiss and a hungry look in her eye. "I hope you're well rested."

"Is Amy home?"

She nodded. "We went to the salon together, but she has some errands to run. She'll be gone for a few hours."

"That should be enough time," I said. I put my hands on her waist and pulled her pelvis against mine. Oh boy...

I heard soft footsteps behind me. A familiar voice said, "OK, I'll be home in a few hours."

This was going to be difficult. I fixed a smile on my face and slowly turned to face her. When she came into my field of vision I got one of the biggest shocks of my life. They still had the same exact shoulder-length hairstyle, but instead of Lynn's glowing, coppery tresses, Amy was now a sunny strawberry blonde. 

It staggered me. "Amy, I, whoa..."

She smiled. Perhaps she thought she was hiding it, but I could see the sadness in her eyes. "Is it that bad?" she asked.

"It's that good. You look fantastic." It was true. She looked incredible. And, most importantly, she looked DIFFERENT. Anyone could tell them apart now. It was her sign of surrender, to prove that she and her sister had given up the game. 

She thanked me for the compliment. And then, without another word, she left. I said, "That takes some guts, for her to chance the color of her hair. It's a big change."

Lynn shrugged. "Girls do it all the time." She reached down and popped the button on my jeans. As she pulled my zipper down she said, "There's something else people do all the time."

This time we weren't slow and loving. This time we fucked, hot and hard and both of us screaming and clawing at each other. And I knew that this was the same girl I made love to that morning. There was none of the hesitation of the day before. When I came she was on her hands and knees and I slamming myself against her tiny little ass, and Lynn moaned as I crashed into her so hard I thought my thighs would be black and blue. When I exploded inside her, and I reared up behind her and saw Lynn bury her face in the pillow screaming my name, I felt utterly exhilarated. I had this to look forward to for the rest of my life. At last, everything was perfect.

*****

I wonder if Lynn and Amy would have, eventually, gone back on their unspoken agreement to stop sharing me. If Lynn, stuck with me every day, would have gotten tired and dumped me. I can't answer that question, because I screwed things up long before those issues came up.

I was happy, so happy it didn't seem fair. My face was sore from smiling all day. Lynn was happy too, but her joy was tinged with sadness. It was Amy. She was obviously depressed. We all knew why Amy was sad, but no one could say the reason why. It was taboo. 

Amy didn't spend her days weeping and her nights drinking, as I had. But she was unhappy, and it hurt my heart in a strange way to see her that way. It was more than concern for a friend. This was a girl, after all, whom I had held in my arms, and kissed, and whispered in her ear how much I loved her. Those lips, cast in a permanent frown, had once brought me unimaginable pleasure. She had given me such joy, and it was my fault that she was unhappy now. Maybe it wasn't all my fault, there was plenty of blame to go around, but it didn't ease my mind. 

What was even more troubling was the growing attraction I felt toward her. She was a different girl now, beautiful in her own way, but still so identical to the girl I was in love with. The changes in her appearance just murkied the waters even more. 

But I loved Lynn more than ever. The idea that I might abandon Lynn for Amy was ludicrous. I was already looking for engagement rings, starting to think about a good wedding date. We hadn't talked about marriage yet, but it seemed so wonderfully inevitable.

In November a teacher Lynn worked with got married, and we were invited to the wedding. But I couldn't go, I had a project due at work and I had to work that Saturday. I tried my damndest to get out of it, so Lynn and I could get away for a weekend and maybe talk a little bit about our own wedding hopes and dreams, but no luck. 

On the Thursday before she left we made love at my house until 2AM, and then, exhausted, I lay back on the pillow until the spots faded from before my eyes.

"Can you do my a favor," she whispered. 

"My God, anything."

"Would you stop in to see Amy on Saturday? Maybe take her to dinner, just to keep her company? She's been a little down."

To me, this sounded like a very bad idea, and I said so. "Why?" she asked. And that stumped me. If the twins stopped their division of labor, why should I object? The taboo again reared up. Any problem with the situation from now on would be on me. 

Did I have a problem? 

I said, "Well, I should be done around six. I could stop over after work, maybe we could split a pizza or something, rent a movie."

And that's what we did. I knocked on the door a little before seven, jumpy as a cat. For all I knew, this was the girl I'd met at the grocery store. When she opened the door, her glorious red hair framing that lovely face, I wanted to run away and hide. 

We ate the pizza, watched the movie, and it was all very pleasant and proper and bizarre. The tension in the room was so palpable I could taste it, a sour, electric taste of hot metal in my mouth. She would look at me, like she wanted to say something...and not say it. She'd just smile. And whatever it was that was making my heart go thump thump thump stepped on the gas. 




My Twin Loves



She was on the couch, I sat in the recliner. She wore the typical uniform of a girl home for a quiet evening with her boyfriend-sweatpants and a T-shirt. I drank a beer, then another, but the alcohol did nothing to quench the fire inside me. I had her in profile, she was so beautiful I couldn't bear it. I loved her strawberry blonde hair. I loved watching her smile. I loved her. I loved Amy, I couldn't pretend anymore that I didn't. I loved her. I loved Lynn. I loved each of them, with all my heart.

When the movie was over I wanted to leave and let time and distance clear my head, but she asked my to help her clean up the dirty dishes and I said sure. I wanted to say so much more, but I couldn't, but because I didn't know WHAT to say.

Here's my excuse for what happened-my emotions were roiling inside me, my inhibitions drawn down by the alcohol. Actually, that's no excuse at all. If I'd drunk ginger ale all night it wouldn't have changed a damn thing.

Amy opened the pantry closet to put away a shaker of garlic salt and she couldn't reach the top shelf. She raised up on tiptoes, and as she reached her T-shirt rose as well and exposed a glorious inch of smooth white skin around her belly. 

I said, "Here, I'll get it," and I stepped behind her and reached up to take the plastic bottle from her hand. I leaned forward to set the shaker on the shelf, and as I leaned my chest touched her back. My face brushed against her fragrant hair. I set the shaker down with a tiny thud, my nerveless fingers dropping it instead of resting it on the shelf. My hands fell to her breasts. I cupped them in my palms and drew her against my body. I pressed my lips to her neck and I kissed her, I kissed her and I squeezed my eyes shut hoping that if I didn't see what I was doing, maybe everything would just stop. 

Amy gasped and twisted in my embrace but I held her tight and I kissed one side of her neck, then the other. I slid my hand under her T-shirt to caress her nipples and they were hard as pebbles. A tiny cry came from her lips and she wrenched around hard and grabbed my face and crushed her lips against mine, and we kissed with such ferocity that her teeth split my lip. I pulled her sweatpants down, she wasn't wearing panties, and she pulled my belt out of its loops and yanked my pants down to my ankles. I seized her shoulders and spun her so her back was to me and that's how I deflowered her, Amy leaning over the counter, me spearing her from behind. I wasn't gentle, I was too crazed with lust, I thrust inside her so hard that her feet lifted off the floor. I fucked her tasting blood in my mouth from my lip. It was so violent, so thrilling, that I knew how the insane must feel, to just let reason go and obey the voices shrieking in their heads. Only it was Amy's voice I heard, chanting her mantra, "Fuck me, Michael, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."

I don't know how long it went on, all I remember is stepping back and looking at her, my semen flowing down her thighs in a creamy river, Amy looking over her shoulder at me, her stormy blue eyes wild with excitement. I'd betrayed the woman I loved, with her sister no less. Another memory to savor on my deathbed, the exact moment when I'd destroyed my hopes for happiness. 

Amy whispered, "I'm not a virgin anymore," and the wonder and amazement in her voice about broke my heard.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I whispered.

"Shh..."

"I can't believe I did this."

"It's OK," she soothed. "I loved it."

I was sobbing now, and Amy took me in her arms and pillowed my head on her shoulder. I'd just taken her virginity against her will and she was the one comforting me. She held me until I got hold of myself.

"I raped you."

"No you didn't. If you hadn't touched me first I would have." She kissed the top of my head. "You would never do anything as horrible as that."

"I betrayed Lynn. I love her more than anything in the world and this is how I treat her?" I looked up into her serene face. "And you?"

She stroked my cheek. "She'll never find out."

"I have to tell her. I can't lie to her like that."

"You can't tell her. What good would it do?" She took my face in her hands and looked at me hard. "Even if she did find out, Lynn would forgive you. I know she would. She loves you."

It sounded impossible. Then I said, "How can you forgive me?"

She kissed me on the lips, a gentle, chaste kiss. "I already have."

She told me to go home. I went. I couldn't bear to leave her, but staying was even worse. I fell asleep around 4AM, from sheer exhaustion. I woke to the sound of my phone ringing. It was noon.

"Hi honey," Lynn said.

All I could say was "Hi" back to her. Thankfully she didn't make me talk much. She said the wedding was wonderful, she had a great time, but she had to run a few errands and would it be OK if I came over around, say, five? I said that was fine. I said I loved her. She said she loved me. We hung up. I went back to bed. 

Would Amy tell her? Would I? It wasn't like I didn't know how to keep a secret from a girlfriend. But I didn't know how I could keep THIS secret, how I could keep myself from Amy, from making love to her again. I loved her. I loved Lynn. I hated myself. I hated the world.

At five o'clock I arrived at their house numb from worry. My nervous system, overtaxed from the past 24 hours, was no longer a faultless connection from my brain to my body. My right eye had a twitch. The fingers of my left hand were numb. I had an erection and it wouldn't go away, not even after a long, icy shower. 

I rang the bell. I tried to summon a smile, but the corners of my mouth refused to curl up. Yeah, Lynn wouldn't notice anything was wrong. Sure.

The door opened. Both twins stood in the doorway. They stood there, identical smiles on their lovely faces. They both wore white T-shirts and blue jeans and white sneakers.

And they both had strawberry blonde hair. 

I stood gawking at them for maybe ten seconds. They looked exactly alike again. Exactly. The three of us had come to another of those moments where we couldn't talk about what was happening. They just smiled and waited for me to do something.

I could have walked away.

I could have dragged one of them inside and chopped off her hair with the kitchen shears. 

But I didn't. If I'd had a white flag I would have waved it. I said, "Wow, you look great." I was looking at the space between their heads when I said it.

"Thanks," they said in unison.

We had a very nice dinner, the three of us, lasagna, garlic bread, salad. I didn't address either of them by name the whole time. I sat on one side of the table, they sat on either end. When we finished they told me to sit in the living room and relax while they did the dishes. While I sat like a corpse in their recliner one twin came in and kissed me. "Love you," she said before sashaying back to the kitchen. Lynn, I supposed. And then, a minute later, the other twin came out, kissed me the same way, said the same thing, and left me. 

They tested me all night, and I passed with flying colors. I didn't even try to figure out who was who. I just smiled and let myself be kissed and touched and when it was time to go I gave each girl a neutral wave and walked to my car. I was a beaten man. I had two options. Give them both up, or love them both and see what the hell happened. Like I had a choice. Let the dice fly.

*****

My girlfriend was Lynn, her sister was Amy. That didn't change. As the weeks went by, it almost became normal. I loved them. They loved me. We were all happy. What was wrong with that?

A few months went by, my friends kept asking, "So, when are you two getting married?' Good question. I started looking for engagement rings. I asked Amy what kind of ring would Lynn like. Gold, silver, platinum? Princess cut, round, pear-shaped? 

"A princess-cut stone in a white gold setting," she said.

"You're sure?"

Her eyes glittered. "Positive." And she would be, wouldn't she?

A month later I had the ring. Picking the right moment to ask a girl to be your wife is always difficult. For me it was a nightmare. I didn't know how they would react to the engagement. I was praying that once the lucky girl got the ring on her finger, she wouldn't give it up. That the ring would be enough to break the spell and end this lunacy forever. The problem was trying to figure out which girl to give it to, and when. I still had it in my head that one of the twins was the "real" Lynn, and that was the girl I wanted to marry. But there was no way to know which girl that was. 

In the end I said the hell with it and asked her during dinner at a restaurant on Mt. Washington, the way everyone gets engaged in Pittsburgh. Our table was right by the window, the glittering towers of the Golden Triangle reflected in the flat Monongahela river. I got down on one knee, asked the question, got my answer, got a kiss, got some applause from our fellow diners. It went flawlessly.

"We have to tell Amy," she said, looking at the rock on her finger.

"Sure, tomorrow morning we'll stop by so she can..."

"We have to stop by tonight."

"I thought we'd go back to my place, I have a bottle of champagne chilling..."

"After we stop and see Amy."

The waiter came by and Lynn asked if we could have the check. No dessert and coffee. I drove us back to their house, Lynn's head on my shoulder. It would have been so wonderful but for one little flaw, and that flaw made all the difference. I drove with my mind a blank slate. It's a miracle I didn't drive off the Smithfield Street Bridge. 

Lynn showed Amy the ring. They both were in tears. I hugged Amy in a brotherly way, then filled my arms with Lynn and held her close. And it almost seemed all right. We try, in our lives, to bring some happiness to others. I had, somehow or other, made these two women happy. Maybe it would have been better for them to each meet a guy of their own, but that's not what they wanted. I couldn't fathom why that was, but if that's what they wanted, who was I to say it was wrong? 

Lynn pulled the ring off and gave it to Amy to try on. "It fits," she giggled, admiring the fiery stone in the lamplight. Amy handed it back and winked at me. "Don't worry, I wasn't going to keep it." 

"Better not, I can't afford two of those." 

"Oh, if you had to, you'd manage." They both laughed. I managed a smile.

*****

I'm a history buff, and I've read scores of books about World War II. It always astounded me that the German people managed to ignore the Holocaust raging all around them. One day you're saying good morning to your next-door neighbors, the next day the Gestapo is arresting them and taking them to a camp. And you say nothing. You act like neighbors disappearing every day is perfectly normal. I thought that was unconscionable, no one could behave that way and call themselves a decent human being. 

I believed that until after Lynn and I became engaged. And then I understood how easy it is to pretend that the horrible reality around you doesn't exist. I of course don't equate my ludicrous situation with the tragedy of the Holocaust. I don't mean to excuse Germany for what happened during that terrible time. But I now understand the cowardice one feels when confronted by a terrible truth, how comforting is that feeling of inertia when taking action to correct the situation means certain doom. I don't feel so smug and superior anymore.

We set a wedding date, June 17th. I no longer tried to guess if they were trading places. I threw the notebook in the trash. My fiancée's name was Lynn, her sister's name was Amy. Over the months the girls decided to let their hair return to it's natural dark blonde, and I was never able to detect any differences in shading as the dyed strands were replaced with hair their natural color. Not that I wasted much time trying. I trained my mind to ignore everything else. Now I worried about invitations and hotel reservations and disc jockeys. It was enough to worry about.

At last the big day arrived, a clear, cool June afternoon. It was a small wedding, of course, since Lynn and Amy had no family but each other. Lynn invited her students to the ceremony, and my family was there, and our friends, so the church felt full of life. I wouldn't have cared if the pews stood empty. I only had eyes for Lynn, eyes that filled with tears the moment she entered the church. She walked down the aisle by herself, holding a bouquet of white roses, her wedding gown simple and absolutely stunning. Amy was the only bridesmaid, Rick stood as my best man. When I took Lynn's hand and we turned to face the priest, I was shaking so bad I could hear people murmuring behind me. "Breathe, Mike," Father Phil said, and everyone burst out laughing. 

Somehow I made it through the ceremony. I said my vows in a clear, strong voice, we exchanged rings, and then it was time to kiss my wife. We hadn't said a word to each other for the whole ceremony, but when I looked into her eyes I felt an almost transcendent euphoria, like I might sprout wings and just fly off into Heaven. Maybe that's how the first few seconds of a fatal stroke feel, when your dying brain gives you just one last jolt of life before the book closes for good. 

"Hello, my wife." I said.

"Hello, my husband." We kissed, a long, dramatic kiss with a bit of a dip at the end. We walked out to applause and popping flashbulbs. We were married, at last.

The reception was just what I hoped it would be-a great party. The food was great, the drinks flowed, everyone danced. I was too busy to keep a careful watch, but it seemed like Amy had a ball too. I was worried about her just as I'd worry about any single girl whose sister was Princess for a Day. But Amy looked fine. She actually spent much of her time on the dance floor with my Great-Uncle Fred, who was 86 but still cut a serious rug. Amy was absolutely stunning in a pale green dress that, with her blonde hair piled up high, made her look glamorous and dramatic.

"Maybe you picked the wrong one," said Rick, standing at my elbow.

"Nah." 

"You're the luckiest of men. You've married well, and you have great friends. Well, one great friend, anyway." He clapped me on the back. I so wanted to tell my best friend how luck is a double-edged sword, but of course I couldn't. It was far too late for confession to do any good. 

I said, "Find a nice girl of your own. Fall in love. Marry her."

He said, "Well, now that you mention it, your cousin Kelly is rather a pretty girl. I don't know a girl like that could share DNA with you, but accidents will happen. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to dazzle her with my wit and charm." And off he went. 

"Ask me to dance?" a beloved voice said behind me. I turned to take my bride in my arms. But it wasn't my bride. It was her sister. 

I swallowed, took a deep breath, and held out my hand. "Let's boogie."

Of course a slow song started right then, and I held Amy in a brotherly way and steered her in a tight clockwise circle, both of us walking on eggshells.

"Was today everything you wanted?" she asked. 

"Even better."

We turned once in silence. Then she said, "I know how happy you've made her. That's all I ask of you, that you make her happy."

"I will. I promise."

She looked up at me, and those huge blue eyes swam with tears. "Hey, hey," I said, afraid to say anything else.

She shook her head. "I'm OK." We did a half turn when she said, "It's just, I feel like I'm losing her, I'm losing the only family I have."

"No, no, you're not," I reassured her. "You're as much a part of my family now as Lynn is." I winced a bit when I said this but she didn't react and I kept on going, "I couldn't imagine you not being a part of our lives. You mean too much to Lynn. And," I went for broke, pushed in all my chips, "you mean too much to me."

The song ended. The goddam chicken dance started up. Amy stepped out of my embrace, and her eyes were dry. She kissed me on the cheek. "Go find your wife." She left me with a smile on her lips. 

I spent the rest of the night glued to Lynn. When we finally escaped to our suite I was exhausted physically and my emotions drained dry. I wish I could say that the consummation of our marriage was an event that scaled the heights of passion, but when I didn't come after ten minutes Lynn giggled and said, "It happens to guys all the time."

"Not this guy, and not on his wedding night." I forced myself to greater effort, Lynn's giggles faded into tiny gasping moans as we quietly made love. I closed my eyes and pictured Amy in her pale green dress, imagined that it was Amy lying beneath me, and that was all it took. 

"That was good," I whispered.

"The perfect end to a perfect day." We kissed for a minute or so, and then Lynn got up to wash her face before bed. I was asleep before she came back.

Our alarm was set for 6AM, so we would have plenty of time to get to the airport before our 9AM flight to Puerto Rico. When I woke up it was just past four. I woke up because the was a noise in the room loud enough to rouse me. The noise was a sharp metallic "click". 

"Hmmph?" I mumbled, sitting up.

Lynn's voice came from the foot of the bed, "Shh, it's just me." She walked around the bed and crawled under the covers. "I needed a glass of water." She lay down and spooned against my back. I let my head rest against the pillow. Our suite was on the top floor of the hotel. I listened hard, and I heard a tiny "ding!" come from the hallway. The elevator. Who would be up and about at four in the morning?

It was Amy. That was the click I heard, the door closing as they traded places. The woman I'd married in front of God and family was down one flight, sleeping the rest of the night alone, while her sister shared our marriage bed. One twin got the wedding day, one got the honeymoon. 

My head felt heavy, and I put the pillow to work. In ten seconds I was snoring, sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

*****

Maybe you've read this and thought that, perhaps, I was the twisted one, that Lynn and Amy hadn't switched back and forth and I just imagined the whole thing. Maybe I'm just some arrogant male chauvinist moron who thinks he's too much man for one girl and so convinced himself that his girlfriend's twin must want him as much as her sister. It was all in my head, that's what you might say.

I guess it was possible. Anything is possible. Maybe I was insane. I didn't think so, but maybe I had some kind of limited madness that allowed me to function normally yet still believe that I had identical twin lovers. For the first 18 months of my marriage, I tried very hard to convince myself that this was the case. I no longer tried to tell the difference between my wife and my sister, and I really didn't care. I was so happy, so giddy with love for my wife and the life we shared together, that I didn't worry about it anymore. The problem, I thought, would take care of itself if I just left it alone.

When I came home last night Amy's car was in the driveway. I parked and came inside and they were sitting next to each other on the couch, sipping tea. I said hello, and they both looked up time and they said, "Hi," at the same time. I didn't know if my wife was the girl on the left or the right, and neither asked me the usual wifely questions like, "How was your day?" They sat quiet and serene, beatific smiles on their lovely faces, both barely registering my presence. It was a bit uncomfortable, I had the feeling I was in some kind of trouble. 

I said, "Uh, I'm going to go upstairs and change."

"OK," they said in unison, "make yourself comfortable." I went up to our bedroom and stripped and stood over the commode empting my nervous bladder. What was up? They didn't look pissed, per se. Just...intense. Something had happened while I was gone. But what?




My Twin Loves



I flushed and zipped and blew my nose. I tossed the tissue in the waste basket and that's when I saw the box. It read, "Home Pregnancy Test". I stared at it for a long time, ten seconds or so, and when I finally snapped out of my trance I lunged for the can. I pulled out the box and there was the plastic test strip. It had a plus sign on it. Plus meant pregnant. I started shaking all over. Lynn was pregnant. We were going to have a baby. I was going to be a father! That's why they were all weird, Lynn had big news to tell me and was waiting for the right moment! 

I was so happy that I did a little dance in the bathroom, and I knocked the waste basket over. Some tissues fell out, a used-up toilet paper roll-and another box. 

The box read, "Home Pregnancy Test". I knelt down and found another white plastic tube. A tube also marked with a plus sign.

I eased myself down, till I was sitting on the cool tile. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Lynn thought she was pregnant. She took a test, it came up positive. And to double check, she took another.

Sure. 

I dressed and went downstairs, keeping a tight hold on the bannister. They still sat there, drinking tea. They say a pregnant woman gives off a certain glow, that she radiates with the life blossoming within her. I had to raise my hand to shield my eyes from the golden aura that limned the two beautiful women sitting on my couch.

"Think I'm gonna go out for a bit," I said. I thought they might ask after me, but they didn't. They let me go.

I drove to the nearest bar, parked, and handed the bartender my keys, my driver's license, and three twenty-dollar bills. 

I pointed. "Whiskey here, and beer here. When you think I've had enough, call me a cab and give the driver the address on my license. Pay him with what's left, I don't live far."

He looked at me like I was nuts. "OK..." He set a shot glass of Wild Turkey to my left and an icy bottle of Bud to my right. I knocked back the shot, gulped for breath, and swallowed two soothing gulps of beer.

"I take it you're not a whiskey drinker," the bartender said.

"Nope." I gasped. "Another."

He poured. "Problem of some sort?"

This one was a bit easier to take. I took a nip of beer to kill the burn. "Woman troubles."

He grinned. "Women. I hear they can be difficult at times." I pointed at the shot glass and he frowned. "You sure?"

I shook my head. But I said, "Yeah."

I followed the shot with the rest of the beer. "My wife's pregnant. She hasn't told me yet, I found out another way. I guess I'm just a little bit...surprised."

The bartender relaxed, glad I guess that I wasn't cheating with the wife of some guy who might charge in with a shotgun. "Well, congratulations!" He poured. "Have one on the house."

I thought the alcohol would slow the torrent of thought coursing through my brain, but all the whiskey did was act as a giant eraser on the edges of my consciousness, it wiped the rest of the world away. I imagined what people would say when they found out. What Lynn and Amy would look like pregnant, if even the swelling in their bellies would be identical. Would they deliver on the same day? Would they both have boys, both have girls? 

My God, would they both have twins? What if they had twins and the four babies were all the same, would I have to raise my children and not be able to tell them apart? Would my identical children each give me identical grandchildren? I had a terrible vision of my house filled with women who looked the same, Lynn and Amy repeated over and over, different ages, but all the same. 

I raised my hand to get the bartender's attention, and a soft hand took my wrist and lowered it back to the counter. I turned and she was smiling at me. "I guess you know," she said.

"Huh?" I looked into the most beautiful face on earth. "How did you find me?"

"We thought you might come here."

A voice spoke behind me. "You know, don't you?" My head moved on a swivel, and the same face was in front of me, smiling. 

I nodded. "I found the boxes in the trash."

"Oh. So, are you happy?" The room was spinning, I couldn't tell who asked the question.

"Yes. No."

"It's a big change." Their voices, their faces blended into one. 

"Yup."

There was a long pause. They were sitting on either side of me. They both leaned in close.

"We love you."

I thought I was going to be sick. But it quickly passed. "I love you too." I may have said, "I love you TWO," but I was too far gone to pick up on a Freudian slip.

"Let's go home."

The bartender saw that I wasn't alone and came over for a look. "So, whoa." He could see up close that I was flanked by two gorgeous women. "Wow, double vision.' The twins laughed. "Which one of you is the lucky lady?"

The girl on my left said, "That's me." For some reason, I thought it was Amy on my left. But it was the girl to my right who said, "I'm her sister,"

The bartender said, "You are a lucky, lucky man."

"You have no idea."

The bartender handed over my license and keys, and Lynn paid my bill and left a big tip. I was ambulatory, I could walk fine, but they each put an arm through mine and led me to the door. The held on tight, as though afraid I would break away and run. But the whiskey had hold of me now, and I could barely raise my head. 

Lynn drove me home, Amy followed in my car. They marched me upstairs and made me drink two big glasses of ice water and four aspirin to guard against a hangover. Then they got me into bed before I passed out. 

When I woke up, I had a touch of cottonmouth, but no headache. I focused my eyes on the ceiling fan. Then I looked down. Two slender arms criss-crossed my chest. One girl on my left, the other on my right, me in the middle. We were naked under the covers. I have to tell the truth, it was the most wonderful way to wake up I could imagine.

I lie in bed, repeating the same prayer over and over in my head, "God, give me strength". I close my eyes and I want to shut out the world forever. But its too late for that now. I should have run away the first chance I had. Love has made me a coward. And now there's nowhere to run.

The girl to my right stirs, then pillows her head on my shoulder. The girl on my left sighs. "Shh," I whisper. Go to sleep. We'll tell our secrets soon enough. Go to sleep. Go to sleep.