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I had to ask

The ultimate question.

“Did he kill the real Franny?”

Were we a survivor chain of

The lot, the disconnected, the

Threatened?

Her eyes slid back and forth

As she repeated her question;

“Did anyone follow you?”

I wasn’t aware of anyone

But in our day and age

Of advanced surveillance

Was it possible to reassure?

“No. No hiding stalkers

On your tiny island.”

It worked.

For the first time she relaxed

And smiled. But still she

Whispered as if we could be

Overheard.

“I’m sorry for putting you 

In that position but I knew

You wouldn’t let him hurt you.

You were always different

Born yourself –

I’m not myself yet but

I’m trying to be.”

She began to swing us

Her thin legs in white gauze reached out

Pumping us higher.

“You didn’t answer my question”

I insisted, “The real Franny

Is dead. Who killed her?”

 “Verne killed them,” she confided.

As our swing vaulted heavenwards.

“My friends were

“Hiding me from Verne but

“I still had to work. He stalked me – he

Broke in – stabbed Franny and Jane.”

“But missed you?” I prompted. ”Because

You were in the broom closet?”

“No,” she said, “He found me

Covered me with their blood – said

I was the cause of

Everything, I was the one who

 Made  it happen.

He threatened to kill me too

But slowly. I knew he planned

To torture me to death.

 I could never get away.”

“Why not tell the police?”

Her eyes were so big, pale blue shading

Into gray – same color as the ocean.

“They’d lock me up –

He knows too much about me.

I tried everything I could think

To get away but nothing worked

Till this.” She held my hand

Me – feeling like the 

Older sister.

“Remember the fable I used to

Read to you – the dog that dropped the bone

Because he saw a second one?

That’s my gambit –

I felt sure that you would recognize.”

She held my wrists enlaced in

 Skinny fingers.

“Verne was always telling me

I was ruined, that I’d spoiled myself

And destroyed our future.

  I convinced him you were me

Unscarred – the way I was

Before he met me –

Better than I ever was – me without

The things he hated.”

 I recoiled, disgusted, trying not

To show it. That bastard! Hating

Her feeble resistance.

She smiled the old one-sided smile.

“I was right too. You were too smart

To fall for him. 

“You were born so confident! 

So good in school! Your brain

Seemed always working right –

Reading my schoolbooks

Helping ME to do my homework!”

It was funny, listening

To this different recollection

Of our years together, so distinct

From my modest memories. 

At the very moment I was

Iconizing her, she was

Idealizing me.

The swing slowed. My sister

Looked away – that far off glance

That was the skill she’d mastered –

Disassociation –

Floating above the rest of us –

In her inner world of safety.

I heard my voice –

“But I’m so plain.”

“You’re wrong about that, –

More beautiful than I ever was –

I think I’ve learned what real beauty is –

It’s wildness – untamed – and

Those who want to capture it

Are killing their desire.”

My sister, the guru 

Clutched at me again – fearful

She could lose me as I’d lost

Her. She knew the world

Was full of melting women

Simulacra who seem

To be but aren’t –

Shadow people enlisted

Replacing those who

Never came to be.

I recoiled in horror at 

The degradation

So closely missed.

“And then you found me,”

She breathed, scaring me

With confidence in my miracles. 

“This island’s pictures

Were the only ones I ever sent 

To you; I thought 

That you’d remember.”

“I almost didn’t! 

Answer one for me. Did you steal

Diamonds from Kruptupian?”

“His broker was cheating him.

When I gave him the evidence, 

He sold my ring

Giving me the cash to get away

Without informing.

I’ve been taking yoga teacher training.

I’m going to give Franny Vallea the 

Flourishing life she

Din’t have, without

 Family, without chances.

All she ever wanted was enough money

To be safe, to have peace, quiet

And a lock on the door.”

 “Mirabel, you must let me 

Tell Mom and Dad. They don’t

Deserve this silence.”

She turned mulish. Resistant.

More stubborn than I’d ever be.

“Mirabel is dead. It’s better for everyone.”