Category: Teens

Chapter 26 – Victim Impact

Lord Verne confessed –
If you call taking an Alford plea a confession –
Got 40 years on each count.
He refused to “alocute” –
Describe how he did it –
And got away with that too.

I don’t care about that –
He would have blamed Mirabel.
In court for sentencing he refused
My gaze. Mirabel –
Jace now that she’s
Ambisextrous – should have given
A victim impact statement –
I asked her but she said no.

Said she was “Full of new life”
Designing jewelry and training
To be a yoga teacher.
Mom and Dad could have spoken but
They’re not over the shock.
“You write it,” said Derek
So on my phone I wrote this all down and
Made Derek laugh.

“Too long” – he critiqued – “I like it but
Not for court. Just hit the high points.”
First question with any writing is
Who are you talking to?
Ravi Krutupian was right there in court –
Watching me like I’m
The New Mirabel. This isn’t for him.

And the press
Hot and curious, needing details –
Wanting me as the new Mirabel
This can’t be for them. I felt how
Mirabel felt, that day she was naked
In the cage with a thorn in her lip.
But I looked down at Derek
Who smiled encouragingly
So I hissed, “This is for you.”

Cleared my throat, told the court
On a hot summer day I went into the city
To bridesmaid my sister at her
Beautiful wedding to a British aristocrat.
Instead I saw fear and heard lies –
Met a jealous, angry man
Who made people vanish.
I lost my only sister and discovered
Her beautiful life was one living hell.

That knowledge is now part of me,
A scar that I wear that my friends envy
Because some of them think -”
Flashed a look at my Derek –
“That knowledge is beauty. But the only reason
I can stand here and speak is
Because he’ll be locked up forever
So we can be safe.

Thank you, justice
For doing your job.”
I sat down. Derek squeezed
My hand and my eyes filled with
Sadness and gratitude –

Sorry the universe is like this but
Grateful for having a big sister
Who went through all this
So I didn’t have to.

Chapter 25 – Corpse Pose

Her eyes slid away
Fearfully assessing.
“Did anyone follow you?”
“No. I guarantee.
No hiding stalkers
On this tiny island.”
For the first time she gave me
The old Mirabel smile.

“You can see why I love it.”
“Derek Lowther knows I’m here.
I’m using up his air miles.”
Her thin legs in white gauze reached out
Pumping our swing higher.
I refused to help.
“I was there when Verne killed them,”
She whispered.

“They wouldn’t give me away,
But he heard me screaming.”
“He must have followed me
From my job –
Covered me with their blood – said
I’d made it all happen.
Threatened me, threatened everyone, so –“

She gulped – “I made him
Fall in love with you.”
Tears fell out of her eyes as I
Gripped her hot hand.
“I said you were me without
Artifice, made him think
You would want him.
Verne was always telling me
I was ruined, spoiling myself,
Destroying our future.

I convinced him you were
Unscarred – worthy to be
Lady Verne – never told him
How smart you were.”
“Didn’t it bother him
I was only fourteen?”
“He liked that. He could mold you.”
I recoiled, disgusted.
“Why not tell the police?”

Her big eyes shaded blue
Gray – ocean color.
“They’d lock me up too!
He knows too much about me.”
“But why wedding fakery?”
“That was his plan – make you think
I’d gone abroad so you could chase after.
That spa sells fake passports.”

She smiled her one-sided smile.
“I was right – you were too smart –
“Always so confident!
Escaped him too fast. You were
So good in school! Your brain
Just seemed to work right.
Helped me with MY homework!”
She looked away.

“I thought I had just one thing
You didn’t have.
“But I was wrong about that, too.
You’re more beautiful than I ever was.”
I shivered at the horror she’d
Subjected me to, degradation
Narrowly missed.

“How’d you find me?”
She requested. “I remembered
You said you loved this place. Now
You answer one. How’d you escape?”
“My boss’ diamond broker was cheating him.
I blackmailed him with the evidence
For get away cash.

My passport’s for a boy –
I want to start over. Fresh,
Just like you. Can you
Ever forgive me?”
“Not if Verne gets away
With murder. How can we
Trap him, Mirabel?”
She moved her shoulders restlessly.

“Don’t call me that. I’m Jace now. And
“I have the murder weapon.
Told him I got rid of it. And
The shirt he wore – it’s all bloody.
In a safety deposit box.”

From around her neck she
Hauled up a key –
Pressed it into my hand.

Chapter 24 – Survivors

Silvery hair just coming in –
Glittering studs along the sides of her ears
Silver, not diamonds.
But those were Mirabel’s
Bony shoulders poking through her
Gauze shirt. The guru called
Shivasena and they
Plunged into Corpse Pose –

No one’s talking me into that –
I inched around – one student
Opened her eyes – gave me
The harsh look my inquisitiveness
Warranted. But I persisted – the skinny
Silent boy lost in meditation
Was my sister all right! No jewels, no makeup,
Cheapest beach clothing, bony bare feet
Scar on her lip fully visible.

The tears that sprang to my eyes told me
How much I’d feared that I would
Never find her. I closed them
Backed up against the stone-washed white wall
Tried to mentally connect with her.
What could she be thinking
Right at this minute?

She was the one looking fourteen
Years old, deep in dream land,
I find meditation
Annoying. I like my own brain
And don’t want to escape it.
I launched experimental thought volleys
Determined to make her feel
My presence. That project quenched my tears;

Opened my eyes and forced my lasers on her.
Her mouth quivered first –
One small tear slid from her eye.
I had reached her! I knew it. She stirred.
Eyes opened. My sister Mirabel took a
Long, long look at me.

I mouthed her name. She ducked her head,
Bowed deeply forward, then rose
To her feet. A ripple ran through
The group and the leader opened one eye
In displeasure.

She grabbed my arm
And began dragging me downstairs.
“My name here is Jace.”
Jace? Whose identity had she
Stolen? “Don’t run away from me”

I lectured her
Refused to unleash as if
She could melt back into the
Mirage at will. “I never will again.”
She squeezed me; “I knew
You’d escape him. I wasn’t strong enough.”
At the final lighthouse step
We burst into the sunlight.

“I thought you were dead,”
I hectored her. “You abandoned me!”
She pulled me into a big swing
Under an awning
Siblings swinging companionably –
If anyone cared to notice
One of them crying.

The crying one was me.
She said, “Jace was the name I bought
From some West side spa.”
So that explained her visits!
Scam not disclosed to me.

“I guess without my hair I thought
I was invisible.” The joke was on Mirabel –
Bald, at her thinnest – she’d
Magnified her true self so
No one who’d loved her –
Could ever mistake it.

“Why’d you give me
TO HIM,” I raged at her.
“How effing dare you!”
I clutched both her wrists
Where the purple blood beat.
“He wouldn’t kill YOU.”

She said with equal ferocity,
“He wouldn’t let me go unless-“
She hesitated. I was being
Managed. I can always smell it.
“Bur he killed Franny and Jane,”
I accused. Her eyeballs slid back –

This part of the story she thought
I’d never find out.
“But we can trap him,” she said.
“The two of us.”

Chapter 23 – Dream Island

Do you have a spare phone?”
“Sure,” said Derek,
“Brand new trac phone in my dad’s office
Still in the packaging. And
Plenty of air miles burning holes in my pocket.
Do you need a passport?”
“It’s only Florida. Isla Ensueno.”

Isla Ensueno is a resort
In a bird sanctuary –
Luckily Derek’s air miles included the
Pink stucco hotel.

“No one by that name,” the desk clerk told me so
Patiently. What kind of avatar name would
Mirabel choose? He wouldn’t stand for
Guessing so I tried describing her –
But the clerk refused to play.
Tomorrow was earliest I could
Check in and prowl.
It’s a very small island
Only one hotel.
Thoughts assailed uncomfortably –
That oh-so familiar feeling –

Dinned into me by every adult I’ve ever met
That I do everything wrong
And require their help
Going forward.
Typical teenage impulsiveness.
Was this far enough away –
So Mirabel could feel safe?
Or was she making it easier
For her sister to track her?

Would she have some new man in tow
Whose identity she could hide behind?
I’d had just one chance –
Using up those air miles – had I blown it?
Dream Island was gorgeous – as I found out
The very next day – and it had a
Shabbiness guaranteeing she’d meet
No one she knows.

As I circumnavigated the island’s
Walking trail; studying the world
Through my binoculars
A certain peace overtook me.
Peace that evolved an idea
Stemming from my quest for Mirabel’s
Avatar. What can you do
When your game goes horribly wrong?

Even if my guess was off
There remained one intriguing
Possibility: what if one the thing
Mirabel coveted was her own
Younger self?
Even at fourteen I felt that nostalgia –
Viewed my confident eleven-year-old
Incarnation with envy.

If Mirabel decided
To re-set her game –
Make different choices
Finally become “real”?
Systematically I searched every nook
Old trees shading privacy; interrupted
Lovers: peered under
Awnings, stared boldly through
Sunglasses. The trail wound around
A sand beach cove and up to
The lighthouse; sea breeze made me shiver.
Put me In the mood to climb the lighthouse.

Hundreds of steps – quite a trudge –
And I was quite alone. Possibly these
Holiday-makers were all just too old.
I came up to a sign:
“SSSSHHH! MEDITATION IN SESSION!”
I tamed my hard breathing –
Climbed the final steps
Silently. One teacher – an elderly man –
Perfect lotus position –
His eyes closed – six students –

Their backs to me
Gauze shirts, t-shirts,
Ponytails – no hair in Mirabel’s
Color. A couple of blondes and one boy –
Balding, maybe chemo?
Studied him thoughtfully, then felt
I was hallucinating.
Isn’t that Mirabel?

Chapter 22 – Killer Signature

“It’s the killer signature,” said Derek,
“Everything about him
Leading to this moment.”
I did not want
My sister to have thrown me
At a murderer. Did not want
To kiss a killer.

“We’ve got to take this to the police.”
Derek’s voice was speaking –
Summoning the experts –
Even he was afraid of this.
“It isn’t proof of anything,”
I argued. “He threatened
An ex-girlfriend!

Do you know how many guys do that?”
“No,” said Derek. “Do YOU?”
“Yes,” I spluttered. “According to Teen Vogue.
It happens all the time.”
My in-house authority was red-faced,
“I’m embarrassed for my gender.”
Kind of adorable. I touched his hand.
“All it would do –“

“If the police came calling
They’d grill Verne! It’s too soon
To lock him in a story. It’s Mirabel
We need to find.”
“Best witness,” he agreed.
“Verne’s probably calling my dad’s P.I.!”
Fingers clattered on the keyboard.
“I’m not calling Verne!
“Hello, Angie? Derek Lowther. Is Ed around?

It’s an emergency.
O.K., I guess I can tell you,”
He grumbled. “I gave Ed’s name
To somebody I just met
Who’s looking for his missing girl. But then I found out
He’s a dangerous kind of guy.

Oh, he doesn’t? Well, what if he asks
For a referral? OK.
He hasn’t called? Thanks.
We feel better.”
He sounded disconnected.

“She says he never takes cases like that.
Would only recommend police. She says –“
He gulped – “Most people
Searching for a past lover –
Have nothing good in mind.”
“Verne isn’t going to call him,”
I said, leafing slowly
Through Mirabel’s Portfolio.

“Don’t tell me –“ sighed Derek
“He has some other object in mind.”
“Transitional object,” I quoted
Beginning Psychology.
Froze on a photo that
I recognized –
Bikini’d Mirabel kayaking
In paradise.

“I recall she talked about this place,”
I told him. “She called it Dream Island.
Said she wished
She could stay forever.”
I grabbed Derek’s arm.

“I know where that is,”
Hard to transfer
Those Eureka moments: the insight
When it comes together.
“She’d be stupid to return
To anyplace she’d ever been.”

There’s Derek, arguing for the sake of
Arguing. “The smart thing
Is to light out for somewhere you’ve never
Been before.” I batted that one
Off easily. “Then what’s the point? If you’ve
Been miserable, you need
Happiness. Guaranteed.”

“Unless you’re shallow,” said Derek.
“Then you need guaranteed variety.
Everything newness.”
Awful thing to say.
Was Mirabel that bad?
I refused to believe it.

“She’s my sister,” I one-upped,
“I hope I know her better than you.”
He could have told me
I didn’t know her at all
And been right, but he backed down
Immediately. Maybe he saw
In my face the high stakes I felt in
Rescuing the sister who made me
Happy face pancakes all those years ago.

“A password hack is always easier
The better you know the person.”
Now he argued on my side
Of the equation. “Skip Criminal Justice”
I recommended, “And be a lawyer.”
My phone rang and I jumped a mile.
“Oh, Jeez, it’s Verne!

What should I say?”
“Don’t pick up! We need to get
Our stories straight.”
I knew right away two against one
Would activate his wariness.
So I did the bravest thing
And I picked up.

“Oh, hi, Verne
Did you find something?
I took a nap and
Derek’s talking to a neighbor
Who used to be a cop.
Sure – as soon as we know –
We’ll catch you later.”

I could feel his fingers
Reaching out at me through the phone
But clicked way.
Derek stared at me starstruck.
“That was incredible! Have you studied acting?”
“Hell no,” I told him
“I’ve studied LYING. Can’t get through
Teenage life without it.”

Most lies are cover-ups when your antagonist
Is suspicious. Bad idea!
Smart lies strike first –
Bold, short, believable –
And straight out of nowhere.
“What were you thinking? Haven’t you
Spooked him?”

“I want him spooked. We need a way
To hint what we learned
From your PI’s receptionist.
WE NEED TO STOP HELPING HIM.”
“But what good is that?” Derek argued,
“What if he comes here?
If he finds Mirabel first?”

“He isn’t looking for Mirabel
He’s looking for ME so I’ve got to
Get out of here. I know where to go
And I don’t want him following me.”

Chapter 21 – Grievous Bodily Harm

I blazed at him: “It’s just a job!”
Derek spluttered.

“I’ve got not beef for nakedness.”
“Will you get naked so I can study you?”
His face reddened. Suddenly he
Was fifteen years old. “Not unless you do.”
“I won’t. You’d be the only
Nude person in a room full
Of clothed people.”

He huffed, “Point taken.”
I regretted it. Too much distance
Opened up – my fault –
Just when we’d been getting along
So well. His solid trustworthiness
After Verne’s weird creepiness.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Hey, look at this.” Bad moment was over.
“That used to be mine!”
It was a child’s recording
Boombox – purchased from who knows what
Antique garage sale. I loved it
And dragged it everywhere –
It had a mic and –
“There’s a cassette.”

I showed how to open it.
“Press play.” Verne’s voice:
Cruel, whispering, insistent,
Abortive calls no one sane
Would ever answer. “Mirabel?
Don’t think you’ll escape me.
You’re in the
Endgame.”

You can’t win”
My teeth chattered and
Derek’s eyes bugged.
Verne threatening he’d find her and
The longer she made him wait
The sorrier he’d make her.
Did she want her whole family
MURDERED? Did she want her friends
DEAD?

He had nothing left to lose. Through the
Thirty minute cassette
He attempted different ploys;
He loved her –
They were made for each other –
She knew it had never been good
With any but her.
Who wouldn’t want to be Lady Verne?
Wasn’t every bad thing
That had ever happened to either of them
Entirely her fault?

Didn’t she owe him?
He’d would find her
Wherever –
He’d smell her out.
He knew who was lying and
They’d all be punished eventually.

“Call me, Mirabel.
You’d better call me.”
Derek and I looked at each other
Pale as ghosts.
“He did it,” we both said together.

Chapter 20 – Neva Vu

As usual, Derek was thinking
My thoughts. “How valuable
Can they be if she abandoned them?”
I produced the answer.
“If she was afraid to go back?
The place was crawling with police.”

Derek chose his usual role:
Devil’s advocate. “What if the real Mirabel WAS killed
That night?” “Oh stop
With your existential questioning!
Verne would have to be in on it,” I argued,
And I thought each word the moment
He spoke them – ‘Don’t people like Verne
Prefer everyone as employees?”

We made equivalent snorts of
Equivocal disgust.
‘Something in her probably did die
That night.” I wanted to prove
My sister was still alive, still my sister, still
Connected.

We required cups and cups
Of good hot sugared tea –
Orange pekoe cinnamon.
“Let’s construct a murder board,” Derek braved.
I struggled with my memory of Mirabel’s eyes –
Pleading underneath her teasing.

“I bounce between neva vu
And confirmation bias.”
I felt the pressure to one-up him.
“Mirabel could have done the murders herself.”
“Kill her own roommates?”
Spoke the man who had never had roommates!
‘They made her stay in the broom closet!”
Derek plays to win.

“They were helping her by hiding her, so
Occam’s razor says
Whoever she was hiding from
Came and got her.”
I made game face. “Hard
Physical labor knifing two people.”
“Noted.” We spread the boxes
Out on newsprint.
My hopes unrestrainedly high.

Hoping Mirabel would
Jump out at me.
“Separate in two piles,” Derek can be bossy.
“Hopeless or intriguing.”
Everything was hopeless: ridiculous clothes,
Shoes with broken heels, endless piles of
Old magazines.
Union Jack sleepshirt – souvenir of
Great Britain?

Cosmetics in grubby makeup kits,
Hairbrushes, scrunchies,
Antiquated paperbacks –
(“The Power of You”)
Costume jewelry of unlikely value –
This was just junk! The police had
Riffled through it – Dominica or anyone
Could have thrown it away!
Why was Mirabel illiterate?

Dyslexia? Was that the word
Bruited to an eight-year-old eavesdropper –
Or was she just too pretty
To learn anything else?
The only exciting thing was
Professional portfolio
Stamped MONFORT COLLEGE OF MODELING.
Here’s a Mirabel I would recognize.

But all the photos seemed outdated –
Shlocky, overly posed.
There was one traumatic
Unrecognizable Mirabel in whiteface
Thorn-like silver piercings through her lip –
Speechless – a cage around her
Nude starved body. No wonder

She’d declared the fashion world
“Shit!” Only one picture
Was the “Murble” I remembered –
Filled my eyes with tears –
Pony-tailed Mirabel in Daisy Dukes,
Washing the side of someone else’s car.
Memories came surging up –
Mirabel filling the kiddie pool,
Decorating pancakes with happy faces,
Gelling my hair to crazy shapes.

If you ran these pictures backwards
They recorded something sad: the slow dawn
Of knowledge as she realized beauty
Would never be enough. Relieved
To have one question answered.
“That was really Mirabel,” I told Derek.

My real sister who
Gave me to Lord Verne so that she could
Get away. Derek dropped the fake nipple
He was studying to look over my shoulder.
“So what happened to her?”

I shook him off. Suddenly
We were out of synch. To me,
The truth was plain to see.

Chapter 19 – The Escort Murders

“I remember those murders” said Derek
As the car struggled against downtown traffic.
“The Escort Murders! Talk of the news
For months – year before last. “

I was having more trouble
With the concept of
“Escort”! Disquiet shaded to
Repugnance. Was Mirabel ALSO an “escort” or
An “escort friend?” Derek was still talking but
I was ignoring him. If Mirabel was a “scout”
For some porn guy, it only made sense –

“Nothing about any survivor,”
Derek went on, oblivious.
He wasn’t perfect. Or maybe he was –
And I’m the “imperfect” one.
I struggled back into the conversation
Like a drowning person seizing some
Flotsam. ”But they arrested someone?”

“Some sixteen-year old kid
From that very same building
Crawled from window to window like
Some kind of Spiderman. But there wasn’t a
Trial because he was incompetent.”
On his phone he summoned up
Sheaves of bloody newsprint.

Unconversant, I admit, with HEADLINE GORE
I reeled – Tabloids are OUT
Getting through high school is grisly enough.
“Crime’s an acquired taste,” Said Derek.
“I advise against acquiring.
Some things better unseen and
Unknown.” Condescending?

I don’t like being banned.
I regarded him with disapproval.
“Didn’t I invite you on this case?” I chastised.
He was repentant.
“Mysteries are a game,” He defended,
“But when they bring out the knives
Everyone’s at risk.”

Too true. Goosebumps. Couldn’t feel safe
Until both me and these boxes
Were quadruple-locked behind Derek’s guarded,
Security-cammed, barricaded front door.
I made him show me the only other entry
(In the kitchen) was suitably sealed.
“Do you think Mirabel could have
Really been there?”
I whispered. “Locked in the broom closet?”
“Would she know?” Derek queried.
“It was the middle of the night.

Could she hear?”
Earplugs? Ambien?
“Imagine coming out and
Finding them!” Derek:
“But why take a year and a half to run away?”
She was in denial? Too poor to
Get out of town? “Or maybe”
I suggested, ”She thought marrying Brit –
An aristocrat at that –
Was her way out.”
“If the killer knew that she knew –“
Sent a hot stab right through me.

The first good reason I’d heard
For Mirabel ghosting all of us.
“The alternative theory –“
He hesitated, but from his expression
I read his mind.
“you’re thinking they got her,” I said cold as
Ice. “Ugh. Let’s hope not.”

“Another mystery to solve,” said Derek.
“You’ve upgraded my week! Find the killer
– And maybe find Mirabel. Give her reason
To come fearlessly home.”
My eyes narrowed at this blatant
Invitation to play hero.

We both turned to stare
At a pile of dusty boxes.
Not for the first time in life –
It’s a recurring feature –
I tried not to get my hopes up.

Chapter 17 – The Ruined Manor

Derek’s family place was a
Penthouse atop the
Museum Mesko. Mostly glass.
In the “reserved” elevator
Derek grilled me:
“What do YOU think happened?
Think she ran away?”
Unsure of speech when hurtling so fast
I breathed relief when earth returned.

“I think she ran away.”
“Then why invite you?”
“That’s what I can’t figure out.”
I couldn’t tell him she’d bought me
A bridal dress.
That prospect is too terrible. But
He sort of knew anyway.
“Good that you got out of there.”
Through his folks’ dark foyer,

With the Tiffany lamps and stacks of mail
He led me to a long living room
With at least six sofas and the most
Fabulous view. Enough modern art to
Give anybody nightmares.
City laid out
Beneath the clouds.
I proclaimed it “Ravishing.”
“Want something to eat?”
Why was I always hungry?
Is it hunger, anxiety or
Existential despair?

Existential despair can make a person
Fat. The microwave pinged.
“I can’t believe you didn’t Google this guy.”
I can’t believe I didn’t either.
Explained why Mirabel failed
To give us his real name.
Derek was too good
At pointing out the illogic of
The world I’d just escaped.

Or was I too impressed
By his parents’ glamorous digs?
Was this decompression what Mirabel
Was going through now?
Were we joined together in
The project of carving a life
Away from weird and
Wilder men?
“Mirabel,” I breathed.

“She doesn’t make it easy.’
He levered out a plate of nachos,
Sprinkling salsa
Sour cream and guacamole.
“I may need a bib.” So
He provided napkin pile.
I couldn’t keep it to myself.
“Our dresses matched.”
“What?” His mouth was full.

“My bridesmaid dress matched
Her wedding dress.”
He got it. “God. That’s awful.
You were her replacement.”
I dumped nachos into my despair.
“Coffee? Tea or juice? My sister has
A drinking problem and
The wine is all locked up.”
“Sierra?” Couldn’t picture it.
‘She’s in treatment.”

“Coffee will be fine.”
I googled while he went to get it.
The news was bad.
“His house looks like my dream!”
Valerian Hall, Verne’s “ancestral home.”
“There’s even a lake with folly.”
“Swear you didn’t look before?”
This Derek was persnickety.
“I didn’t. Don’t you think sometimes
Absorb from others’ minds?”

Giving him a second chance.
Derek worked his logic:
“God I hope not.
Remote viewing? Maybe it’s a skill
That can be cultivated.”
“Peer Loses Bid to Break Entail.”
Screamed headlines as I scrolled.
Down, down, down.
“Looks like he couldn’t get his money out.”
Derek typed – my research wasn’t
Enough for him.

“He can’t go back because
There’s a warrant out for his arrest,”
“Look at the site!” I argued. “How could Royal Gossip
Know anything of value?”
“I admit you can’t trust exclamation points,”
Derek concurred. “It’s not enough to extradite.”
“Does give reason to avoid police.”
I rose abruptly, needing a bathroom
Relieve myself one way
Or another – heading blindly
Down the hall. “There’s a bathroom
Off the kitchen.” Just around
The corner from a refrigeration wall.

I checked myself in the bathroom mirror,
Refusing to throw up. Remembering
Poor Sierra in some kind of rehab
I owed it to her to conquer these
Demons. Saw a girl too
Hollow-eyed, a girl who needs a tan.
Different from my made-up,
Russian hooker, ex-Mirabel self.
“I found the cause of his arrest,” said Derek
As I soldiered back. “It’s GBH.”
“The party drug?”
“No. Grievous bodily harm. He attacked someone.”
“A girlfriend?”
“She’s described as “lover.”

Found that I could picture it.
Shivers. I’d only seen him
Focusing that rage on rivals
But what if Mirabel hadn’t left?
Derek moved effortlessly from coffee to seltzer.
“This is more fun than a video game.
Maybe I’ll transition to “criminal justice”.”
“Do your parents like the forensics stuff?”
“No. They push Wealth Management.
Fundraising, Tax Avoidance.”

He made a disgusted face.
“Dull, dull, dull. Rule breakers, though –
Their care and capture –
Don’t you find that interesting?”
Was Mirabel breaking rules? Or
Breaking herself against them?
“She was looking for a world where
You don’t have to be lying every minute.”
“How do you know?”

“She said bridegrooms
Get in the way.”
Some things you just know.
“Maybe we’re all impostors,” I suggested,
“Until we find out who we really are.”
He googled. “Impostor syndrome.”
We played dueling phones.
I corrected. “Capgras delusion.
You think everyone’s a fraud.”

“Neva vu, I call it. When the usual suddenly
Seems so unfamiliar.”
“Fake it till you make it?” I inquired.
“Doesn’t that make everyone a fraud?”
“I have no social media,”
Derek said. “Because I won’t get stuck.”
Look at what they post!

I lie awake ready for the universe
To turn upside down and inside out.”
I liked him more and more.
“Glad you’re not a snarky Goth.”
He congratulates.
“Who says?” And we
Both laughed. No luck at the Brooklyn address –

Far from traffic cams –
Spa camera too was on the fritz.
Searching for friends led to Mirabel’s
Last address: apartment building
On the Upper East Side.
“Well, it’s something,” We both said together.
Derek said, “Wanna go see?”