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the
bathroom. She quickly stripped and put on her matching clothing. Then she
walked over to the mirror and stood beside Aggie.
    “Who are you?” she teased her younger twin. It was an old
joke.
    “I don’t know,” Aggie responded as per formula. “Who are
you?”
    The young women turned and surveyed their bodies. Aggie
reached up her arm and Angela mimicked her movement. Aggie smiled and reached
down to put her right hand on her left knee. Her sister followed. Smiling,
Aggie contorted herself every which way and giggled as her sister struggled to
follow.
    “Enough!” Angela finally cried.
    “Don’t you think we need a little makeup?” Aggie asked.
    Her sister stared dumbfounded.
    “I’m doing you,” Aggie explained, still giggling.
    “Maybe just a little,” Angela sounded reluctantly Aggie-ish.
She pulled a lipstick out of her purse and made up first her own and then her
sister’s lips.
    “Mascara?” Angela asked.
    Aggie nodded and Angela retrieved a wand from her overnight
bag. She swept the dark brown fluid expertly over her own eyelashes, then
handed the applicator to her sister. Aggie held the wand awkwardly but left
only one smudge under her left eye. Angela wiped the spot then took her
sister’s chin in her hand.
    “This is weird,” she commented.
    “I know,” Aggie agreed. The doppelganger effect unnerved
her. Angela had even altered her voice, losing a slight New York twang. They sounded
as identical as they looked. “I don’t think anybody will be able to tell us
apart.”
    “Good,” Angela grinned. Both twins heard a car pull into the
driveway. “You go out first and be yourself for a few minutes. Say I’m busy.
Then come back here and I’ll go out as you.”
    “Tell me again why we’re doing this,” Aggie asked.
    “Just go.” Angela pushed her twin out the bedroom door.
    Aggie greeted her father at the front door.
    “Blossom?” he asked.
    “No, it’s Aggie. I changed.” A butterfly woke up in her
stomach.
    “Here’s Mary,” her father gestured.
    “Hi, Aggie. You look great.”
    The butterfly stretched its wings.
    “Thanks, Mary.” Aggie reached out and drew her father’s
girlfriend into a hug. “You do too.”
    “What can I get you to drink?” her father asked them both.
    “I still have some coffee,” Aggie jumped in ahead of Mary,
who caught her eye and nodded.
    “Let’s all have coffee,” Mary agreed.
    Aggie’s father shrugged and walked into the kitchen.
    “Is he drinking a lot?” Aggie asked Mary.
    “Not too much.” Mary was covering and they both knew it.
    Suddenly the homecoming and the charade and drinking were
too much for Aggie. The butterfly was frantically searching for a way to
escape. Its wings battered Aggie’s stomach and she thought she might retch.
    “I’ll be back in a minute,” she told Mary over her shoulder
as she walked out of the room.
    “I don’t like any of this,” Aggie stated as she closed the
bedroom door. “I feel weird. Dad’s drinking again.”
    “I’ll go back,” Angela offered. “You come out in five
minutes or so.”
    Aggie heard muffled voices from the living room as she sat
huddled on the edge of her childhood bed. A hidden memory surfaced; she used to
listen here as her parents fought. Drunken arguments had been the background
music of her childhood. But now the voices weren’t raised. Aggie straightened
her shoulders and stood. Time to rejoin the family and end the charade.
    “Blossom,” her father greeted her. “Come sit.”
    The warmth of his tone brought a sheen of moisture to
Aggie’s eyes. Was his voice that affectionate when he knew he spoke to her?
    “No,” she began, unable to continue the imposture. Angela’s
voice interrupted her.
    “Angela has a headache, Dad,” she explained.
    Aggie walked to sit next to her father. She smelled brandy
in his coffee. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the sofa.
    “I’m Aggie, Dad,” she blurted before Angela could interrupt.
    “Dad,” her