Chapter 6 –
Alt-Mirabel
To be around Verne
Was to feel
Too many emotions at once –
I almost don’t want to remember them.
Depression, disgust, anger,
Amazement.
Safe to say
I’m not “alt-Mirabel”
And never will be.
When my journey began it’s true
I vaguely envied Mirabel
Enjoyed imagining
The Perfect Life –
How delicious doing only
What you want!
Some relief to feel above it all!
But now I saw her slavery.
Still conundrums proliferate.
How and where had Mirabel
Learned to pretend so effectively?
Had she studied foxing Mom and Dad and
Turned it into outwitting this
Aristocratic partial-wit?
He who declared that;
Thesis, antithesis
Synthesis – so, if I’m not Mirabel
I must be her opposite.
His definition for rivalry.
Girlfight!
Naturally that explains
Why he tried to kiss me.
What can The Real Richenda say to
A man so uninterested in her existence?
“I’m changing,” I said abruptly.
“Getting out of this idiotic dress.”
“The car’s downstairs,” said Verne.
“You don’t have time.
He’ll take us where she went.”
“Go without me,”
I said. “I’m changing.”
A clash of wills;
How did I know he wouldn’t?
I joined them downstairs
Wearing my oldest jeans and my Three Mad Cats
T-shirt -turned out Mirabel had gone to
Brooklyn, apparently – it seemed a long, long way.
The driver was unhelpful – Mirabel’d said nothing and
He was a glum fellow taken for
Himself. We halted in the warehouse district.
Verne coaxed him to wait while we stepped out of the car.
Pessimism was back.
“Nothing here. I hoped she’d get sloppy.”
I had my own ideas.
Looking for the “other man”
Verne forgot the critical
Importance of staging areas; or perhaps
He never knew – maybe he’s
The kind of guy who thinks
Women awake made up for him
.
Behind one of these doors could there be a place
Where she changed from one facade to the next –
But they were all unlabeled –
No numbers, no doorbells,
Broken-looking speaker units.
Impossible to tell.
But the psychic bond persisted.
I was beginning to get a sense of her –
Inhaled like faint perfume –
My confidence conferred a heady power.
I wasn’t alt-Mirabel
But I did feel I knew her
Better than he did;
I’d seen her just beginning
Before she polished up her act
And took it on the road.
The question was never –
When did Mirabel get so wily? I felt
She’d always been this way – but
Now I wondered;
Had her plans EVER
Included us?
“Maybe she met another car,”
Verne offered,
“Parked somewhere out of sight.”
That nemesis of his again – he preferred
A universe of dastard rivals.
We savored the possibility.
The night was silent.
“Well, who?” I asked.
Verne sighed.
“One chance left,” he said. “Humiliation, but
What have I got to lose?”
I think he had already lost it
But said nothing.
Looking him up and down
I wondered idly how many on this planet –
Four fifths? Two thirds?
Would trade places with this guy.
My mother’s drill-sergeant voice snapped
Inside my head, demanding he “buck up.”
He gave the driver an address on the Upper East Side
And we settled in for another
Lengthy ride.
“So…where are we going?”
“Mirabel had a job – personal assistant to…
This man and they
Were friends. Too close for me.
He might know something.”
“Was he invited to the wedding?”
Inquire I. Ingenuously.
“No. His wife thought they
Were too close too. Let’s say I thought
He dismissed her with
An overly generous gift.”
Aha. Torn between rich men,
And only one of them
Unmarried.
Picture becoming clearer.
Verne drummed his fingers,
Grim but seeming cheered.
“She might be there. If we take him by surprise.”
His eyes raked me over.
“You were smart to change.
Sorry for rushing you.
Button up your coat. I want to
Push you front and center.”
I understood he
Prepared to use the
Adolescence; familial relationship
So recently forgotten –
He had the nerve to congratulate me
For dressing down to
Young and vulnerable.
Really they deserved each other.
“He won’t care
About me – I’m just the jilted bridegroom –
I’m sure she complained about me to him
Just as she complained to me about him – but
He’ll be interested in you.”
Hmm. Yes. Abandoned sister.
The suburbs were dull but the city’s
Charm now seemed theatrical; everyone required
To play roles.
Hilariously, both these men
Would look to me for clues to who
Mirabel had been.
At another golden barracks
The doorman demanded the
Purpose of our visit.
Verne said, “Emergency.”
He flashed a picture
From his phone. “Seen this girl tonight?”
The man shook his head, consulting his service phone.
“Penthouse Suite. Mr. Kruptupian will see you now.”
Alysse Aallyn 