Meteoric dust drips ash Into my upturned mouth; I taste stars; What manner of being are you? I only know you’re something That I need. Your
Mirrored endlessness partakes of Nothing human, yet suggests Completion. Your shadow arches Over everything, a lover who Won’t give satisfaction. I’ll take The expert titillation
Of your neglect. Hunger burns so purely in This atmosphere. Without you I might be myself; with you I am nothing. But Deflation is a lover’s privilege.
I have seen the soul cave in Imploding; lens burnt hyaline Seen the wings upflung – God’s eagle Tesserae shagreen; seen The flare-tailed phoenix shuddering; Ripping orchid-breasted dream Splitting spleen and coil and lung into A shell of lies where Love and truth; meant and unmeant Polychromize.
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.
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.
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.”
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?
“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.”
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.
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.
Alysse Aallyn 