“You ok?”
Calla’s voice wraps around me like a blanket.
She keeps me sane.
It’s always been that way, maybe even in the womb, for all I know.
Don’t let her know Don’t let her know Don’t let her know.
Don’t let her know.
I smile, a perfectly normal grin.
“Perfectus.” Perfect. “You ready?”
“Yep.”
We walk out of the hospital, into the afternoon sunlight and pile into the car. I start the engine and steer the car from the parking lot with shaking hands.
Act normal
Calla turns to me, her green eyes joined to mine. “You wanna talk about anything?”
I shake my head. “Do I ever?”
She smiles. “No. But know that you can. If you want to.”
“I know.” And I do.
“Did you know that ancient Egyptians shaved off their eyebrows to mourn the death of their cats?”
I change the subject and Calla laughs, shoving her long red hair out of her eyes with slender fingers. It’s our thing, these stupid death facts. It’s my thing, really. I don’t know why. I guess it’s from all the years of living in the stupid funeral home. It’s my way of giving death the finger. Plus, by focusing on death facts and learning Latin and making my stupid mental lists, it gives me something to focus on. Any time I focus hard on something, it staves off the voices.
Trust me, I’ll do anything for that.
“I didn’t. But thank God I know now,” Calla answers. “What would you shave off for me if I died?”
I would plunge to the bottom of the ocean for you. I’d comb it for shells and make you a necklace and then hang myself with it. Because if you aren’t here, I don’t want to be either.
I can’t show her how panicky the mere thought makes me, so I shrug. “Don’t give me the chance.”
She looks horrified, as she realizes what she said, so soon after mom died.
“I didn’t mean to….” She starts to say, then trails off. “I’m sorry. That was stupid.”
Calla and I are twins. Our level of connection can’t be understood by those who don’t have it. I know what she means even when she doesn’t. Her comment had come out before she remembered mom. It sounds stupid, but sometimes, we can forget our loss for a second. A blissful second.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, as I turn onto the highway.
Fuck her. She has no right.
The voices are loud.
Too loud.
I close my eyes and squeeze them hard, trying not to hear.
But the voices are still there, still persistent.