Chapter 2
2
Hello?”
Heavy, disjointed breaths. Static.
“Hello?” I repeat. “Who is this?”
I can’t make out the words clearly. It’s like whoever is calling has a damp finger over the speaker, froth in their throat. I press my phone hard into my ear and squint as if that would help me hear better. “Hello?”
Then I hear her. My twin. Or at least I think I do. It’s hard to make out. But it almost sounds like she’s repeating mistake, mistake, mistake.
“Chloe? Is that you? What’s a mistake?”
More coughing and moaning.
I turn my volume all the way up, put it on speaker. “Can you hear me? What’s going on?”
“Ju-Ju… I’m sorry.”
“What? Sorry for what? Chloe? Hello?”
The line goes dead.
I’m breathless. My tongue is dry and thick. A viscous layer of gummy bear coats my throat.
I dial her back. It rings and rings. Hi, you’ve reached Chloe! Leave a voicemail or send me a text. Love you! Instinctively, I hang up before the tone, my heart jogging. I’m not sure what to say. My thoughts aren’t in order.
It’s been three years since she spoke to me and now she suddenly calls? Why? I didn’t even know she had my number. I call her again. Hi, you’ve reached Chloe! Leave— I hang up.
Leaving a voicemail would be evidence that she still has power over me, that I care when I shouldn’t. Chloe had heartlessly re-abandoned me after promising to reconnect, and I had stupidly believed her. I can’t let myself be humiliated twice.
And what if, God forbid, it’s a prank? Tricking My Long-Lost Twin Sister into Thinking I’m Dying! #Hilarious. It’s not on-brand for her to do pranks. But she’s diversified her content before—like buying me a house. Maybe she’s trying something new. Aren’t pranks having a resurgence these days?
I shove my phone in my pocket and continue home, chewing handfuls of gummy bears to stave off lingering doubts.
Chloe’s whispers follow me everywhere. Ju-Ju, she says while I’m picking crusted lasagna sauce off the peeling kitchen counter. Mistake, she gurgles as I lie on the living room floor, staring at the dusty baseboards I’ll never clean. I’m sorry, she whispers in the bathroom as I nurse a sugary stomachache.
She’s with me as I shower, as I brush my teeth, as I blow-dry my hair.
No matter where I am, what I do, she won’t leave me alone.
I don’t sleep that night.