Chapter Thirty-Five
Roland watched Marissa writhing in pain. He fingered the bottle of alcohol, contemplating its use.
“How can you sit here and watch her die?” Mimi cried.
Marissa’s glassy eyes silently pleaded. Roland looked away.
“Please, I’ll do anything. You can be with Marissa night and day, just don’t take her away from me.” Mimi noticed the sweat beading on Kara’s forehead as she held her head in her lap. “Please, Roland. Please don’t take her from me.”
Roland stood, the bottle of alcohol pressed against his palm. “I have to think,” he said, and leaned his back against the wall.
Marissa coughed and dry heaved, then let out a pained cry.
Roland covered his ears. “Stop it, please stop it!”
“You can save her!” Mimi yelled. “Get her help. Let us go.”
Roland shook his head. “No. You took her from me. I’m not letting you take her again.” He walked across the floor then back again, smacking his burned and red palm against the wall. He sucked in air between his teeth and turned to Mimi. “You sent me away. All I wanted to do was love her.”
“You weren’t right, Roland.”
Kara squeezed her mother’s hand, her eyes darting between Mimi and Roland.
“I loved her. I just wanted to be near her. You! You were selfish. You wanted her all to yourself.” He paced frenetically, throwing his hands up into the air, then grabbing his sweat soaked hair. He let out a loud, frustrated groan. “This is your fault!”
“No, Roland. You hurt her. Don’t you remember? You wouldn’t let her be. You were forever in her bed. We worried—”
“Worried?” He laughed. “You worried because I loved my sister? My twin sister? Then, as if that wasn’t enough, you sent him after me.”
“I didn’t do that.” Mimi held his gaze.
“Mom?” Marissa’s tiny voice shattered the space between them. Both Mimi and Roland grew quiet, watching Marissa’s eyes roll up into her head, then back to center again.
Mimi pulled her to her chest. “No! Damn it! Please, please get help. Don’t let her die. She never hurt you!”
“We have to die. It’s the only way we can be together. Our birthday—” Roland took two steps closer to Mimi. She put her arms around Kara and turned her back to Roland to shelter her from Roland’s reach. “Don’t touch her.”
“Time. What time is it?”
“Almost eight. Why? What are you waiting for?” Mimi sobbed.
“She’s on the cusp. Soon her vision will fail, her heart will race.” Roland began to shake. He walked toward the bottle of antifreeze.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” Mimi cried. “Roland!”
Roland mumbled, “Born together, die together.”
“No. Roland, no!” Mimi cried. “Please. I’m sorry, for everything.”
Roland picked up the bottle of antifreeze and walked over to where Mimi sat against the wall with Marissa. He set the bottle down between them.
Mimi leaned away from him, tears dragging black soot down her cheeks. “No. What did you—” She looked from Roland to the bottle, then back again. “Oh, God. Roland. She’ll die!”
“Born together, die together.”
Her eyes trailed over him with disgust. Her lower lip quivered. “You’re…you’re not sick.”
Roland held up the bottle of alcohol and dangled it in front of her, a glint in his eye.
Mimi looked at the bottle, her face contorted with misunderstanding. She shook her head. “Wha—”
“We’ll die together.” He nodded. “I need to keep them away until it’s time.” He took another swig of the alcohol.
Mimi watched him.
“I’m so thirsty,” Kara said.
Mimi put her hand on Kara’s shoulder. “I know, honey.” She looked at the rising color in Roland’s cheeks as he took another drink. Mimi looked back at Kara, again. Her eyebrows pushed together. “Give me that!” Mimi reached for the bottle.
Roland yanked it away.
“You won’t die together, you bastard!”
Roland shook his head, looking at the bottle of alcohol.
“You’re killing her, you selfish bastard!”
Roland looked from Mimi to Marissa, then at the bottle in his hand. “No,” he said quietly. “This is all wrong.”
“Damn right it’s wrong. You’re killing your sister!”
“You’ve ruined everything. This is your fault. I have to stay strong until the end.” He grabbed Mimi by the hair and pulled her to her feet. Marissa rolled off her lap to the floor.
“You did this!”
Mimi cried out, “No, Roland. You did this. You poisoned her, not me.”
“You made me do it.” He reached up and fingered his mangled cheek. “You kept me from her. You bitch!” He pushed her against the far wall.
Mimi caught herself with her palms, hitting the wall with a groan. She dropped to her knees, crawling back toward Marissa, clawing at the concrete for purchase. “Kara!” she sobbed.
“Marissa.” Roland kicked his foot at Mimi. “Get away from her.”
Mimi swatted at his foot, crawling, straining her arms to reach her daughter.
“You sent him after me!” Roland yelled. “You made him follow me.”
Mimi looked up, blood streaming from a cut on her cheek. “Who?”
“You made him go live at Lowrey’s.”
“No! He went on his own. He had to. You couldn’t be trusted.”
Roland shook his head. His jaw slackened, then closed. He gritted his teeth and turned his back to Mimi. He suddenly spun around, vengeance in his eyes. “You did this to me,” he said, as he touched his scarred cheek.
Mimi scrambled to Marissa and wrapped her hands around her, sobbing. “No.”
Roland’s face reddened and he fisted his hands. “You did this to me. No one will look at me, and you did this.” His nostrils flared. His chest heaved with every breath.
“No, Roland. Your mother did that to you. You don’t remember.”
“Liar!”
“You tried to hurt Marissa. You grabbed a knife and went for her.” Mimi clung to Marissa.
“No!” Roland grabbed the sides of his head, as if a memory were painfully clawing at his mind. “No!”
“Yes! You said your mother loved her more. You were only a little boy, but you were always trying to hurt Marissa.”
“No!” Roland bent over and spoke through gritted teeth, “No. I loved her.”
“By the time I got you, you were so obsessed with her, your entire world revolved around her. You hurt her. You broke her arm.”
“No! She did that at the park,” he cried.
He paced, remembering the windy fall day.
Marissa had been so small. She scurried in front of Roland and up the steps to the slide.
Mimi watched, cheering her on, “Climb, Marissa. Roland, let her go first.” Marissa stood up and yelled, “Watch, Mommy!” Her blond ponytails swung in the breeze.
Her red dress clung to her white tights.
“You pushed her.”
“No!” Roland stood up, clenching and unclenching his hands.
“Yes. You did it, Roland. You pushed her from behind. Everyone saw you.” She kept her eyes trained on him.
“No. You’re lying. Stop it! Stop it!” he screamed. He spun around, his face red, his hands a painful mess of burned skin.
“You did it,” she screamed. “You, Roland. You!”
“Liar!” He stepped closer, reaching for her again.
She ducked back. His hand swatted the air inches from her head.
“I would never hurt her.” He lifted his fists, shook them at her in fast, rigid movements.
“It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself, however you rationalize that I’m killing my own daughter when you poisoned her,” Mimi yelled. “You’re the one who has, is, and will be killing her. Your choices, Roland. Your decisions.”
Marissa moaned. “Who am I?” she whispered.
Roland stopped, hand midair.
Mimi’s tears dripped onto her daughter’s cheek. She wiped them away, leaving a smear of black ash. “You’re my daughter,” she cried.
Marissa shook her head. “No. Who am I?”
Mimi looked up at Roland, her lower lip trembling. “You’re Marissa Jane Greer,” she said, sobbing.