That night I lay awake for the longest time with
my eyes wide open, thinking. What terrible things had
we done to cause all the nasty gossip about us? We
were twins, born minutes apart. We had been
connected in our mother's womb and birth was a great
separation from each other as well as from her. When
we were younger, we did cling to each other more
than most brothers and sisters, even those close in age.
I couldn't recall a day or a night when we were apart. I
was sure most of our friends believed that when one
of them said something to one of us, the other would
soon know it. They all sensed that there were no
secrets I would keep from Cary or he from me. He
just naturally hovered about me, protected me as we
grew older. Being twins, it took only a glance or a
look for us to communicate a fear or a happy idea. Perhaps our friends resented this magical
connection; perhaps they were jealous and that was
why they wanted to hurt us. It was easy for them to
turn Cary's devotion to me into something dirty and
sick.
And then, a more fearful voice, tiny, hiding in
the back of my mind, stepped up to say, "Maybe Cary
was so angry because he realized some of what they said was true.. . . He was too devoted to you. Maybe he realized his own problem and maybe his violence
was his way of trying to deny it."
I turned over in bed and buried my face in the
pillow to shut off that tiny voice and the memories it
evoked. Memories of strange looks, lingering touches,
intimate words that were meant for lovers, not
siblings. I was afraid for Cary, afraid that if I gave this
tiny voice even an iota of credence, I would avoid
Cary's eyes, find his touch burning, flee from being
alone with him. The separation that had begun the day
we were born would reach its final stage, and soon
Cary, my poor beloved brother, would be alone. I cried for him, feeling anger and confusion, as
well as shame. He was still above me, shut up in his
attic workshop. It was very quiet, but I thought I heard
him crying. I listened hard, but it was silent again. The
wind had died down, yet there was still enough of it to
make the walls creak. Outside, the moon played
peekaboo with the parting clouds. The surf rose and
fell against the dark sand, resembling a giant wet hand
reaching out of the ocean, crawling out onto the sand.
Night was our respite, the time to put aside the trials
and torments of the day, to rest our weary bones and
stuff our troubled thoughts into dark corners and then
welcome sleep like a long-cherished friend.
I closed my eyes and prayed and waited for the
surprise of morning.
The next day, Daddy and Cary went to work
right after breakfast and were gone almost all day.
They were just coming home when Robert pulled in to
pick me up for our date. Both Daddy and Cary knew I
was going to Robert's for dinner, but not even Cary
knew that Robert's parents had left for Boston and
wouldn't be home until late the next day.
With all the trouble circling our lives recently, I
was eager to leave our gloomy house. I felt guilty
about not telling Daddy and Mommy that Robert's
parents wouldn't be there, but I knew if I did, Daddy
would scowl and say he didn't think it would be
proper.
Instead I waved good-bye to the both of them
and got into Robert's car.
"You all right?" he asked.
I forced a small smile, took a deep breath, and
nodded. "Yes, fine," I said.
Robert squeezed my hand gently and then
backed out of the driveway. A moment later, we were
headed toward the inn and our romantic evening. The
Royces had done a lot of work since I'd visited last, and I could tell as we pulled into the driveway that their work was almost complete. Robert gave me the grand tour, taking me from the sitting room to the office and then showing me some of the guest suites. All of them were beautifully decorated, bright and airy, especially the rooms that looked out at the beach and ocean. With its new paint, flooring, wall covering, fixtures, and furniture, the Sea Marina now ranked up
there with some of our finest inns.
"We're advertising in the big newspapers and
magazines," Robert explained. "Mom and Dad are
very hopeful."
"As they should be," I said. "You and your
parents did a wonderful job, Robert."
"Thank you."
Being alone in the refurbished, sparkling new
realizing it, we were being formal and very polite.
Robert opened doors for me and kept his hand on my
back as we climbed the stairs. We avoided each
other's eyes and talked only about the inn, the
grounds, and the upcoming tourist season. It was
almost as if we were strangers who had just met. "I guess we should think about dinner. I bought
everything you told me we'd need," he said, and we headed for the kitchen, where we both worked on the preparations. I had him peel potatoes and heat up pots of water for vegetables while I breaded and sauteed
flounder fillets.
Robert had already set the dining room table.
He had their finest china and silverware laid out, with
linen napkins and crystal goblets beside them. There
were tall, white candles in the two candelabra in the
center of the table. Over the new sound system that
had been piped into most rooms downstairs, he played
soft romantic music.
"Do your parents know all about this, Robert?"
I asked.
"Oh sure," he said. "Mom suggested I use our
nicest stuff. Although, I didn't tell them about this," he
added and produced a chilled bottle of Portuguese
wine. "I thought it would be all right. This is a special
occasion," he added.
I nodded and went back to our dinner
preparations. When everything was ready, I told him
to light the candles and sit at the table. I would bring
in the meal.
"Let me help," he said, but I insisted and he
went into the dining room.
I brought in the food and Robert poured glasses
of wine. Shyly we made a toast to the Sea Marina. "May she have a successful maiden voyage,"
Robert declared.
We began to eat. Robert raved about
everything. We laughed, drank more wine, and
pretended first we were the owners and then the
guests.
"This is our honeymoon," he suggested. "Where
are we from?"
"New York. No, the Midwest. That way we
haven't seen the ocean," I followed.
"And now that we have, we're enchanted." "We don't want to leave. Ever."
He changed his posture, trying to take on the
demeanor of an older, stuffy businessman.
"I'm even thinking of looking for work here.
Did I tell you, my dear?"
I imitated Grandma Olivia and looked down my
nose at him.
"No, you didn't."
"I looked at a small beach house yesterday.
Nothing elaborate, but it has
a wonderful view. It
would be a great place to raise children. They would
have the world's biggest sandbox," he said.
"Sandbox? My children won't be permitted to
dirty their little hands and feet in any old sandbox." We laughed and drank more wine.
Suddenly, Robert reached across the table and
put his hand over mine, fixing his warm eyes on me
and giving me that wonderful winsome smile. "Have I told you how happy I am, how utterly
complete I feel whenever I'm with you, Laura? It's as
if the world was created just for you and me. There's
no one else and all the beauty is ours alone to behold." Whether it was the wine or his words that
brought an exciting, warm tingle to my stomach, I do
not know. All I was certain of was that I felt like I was
overflowing with love for Robert, and I never wanted
to let go of his hand or this moment. He leaned over to
kiss me, a short, soft kiss, so tender and gentle, it was
more like the kiss in a dream.
"Laura," he said. "How lucky I am to have
found you."
"Me, too," I said, barely above a whisper. He held on to my hand and then slowly, ever so
slowly, he stood up and pulled me with him. Again he
kissed me. It was the sort of kiss that grew deeper
with each moment, became more demanding and
ended only because we were both out of breath. He
brought his face to mine and let his lips glide over my cheek and to my ear where he nibbled gently and then
whispered, "Shall we go to our room, darling?" Our room! The thought of it was both thrilling
and frightening at the same time. My heart began
beating frantically as Robert led me from the dining
room to the stairway and to a suite that looked over
the beach and the sea.
Entering the room, we were both so nervous we
couldn't speak. Standing in front of me, Robert
unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, dropping it on the
chair. My fingers, as if they had minds of their own,
went to my blouse and, though trembling, undid each
button. Slowly, I took off my blouse and let it drop
beside Robert's shirt on the chair. He smiled and
stepped forward to kiss me, his hands moving behind
my back to undo my bra.
My heart pounded.
Robert undid his pants and sat on the bed to
take off his shoes and socks. I watched him with eyes
wide as he removed his pants and folded them over
the back of the chair.
The wind made the curtains dance and the
ocean outside roared against the beach, but all I really
heard was the thumping of my own heart.
I unzipped my skirt, slipped it down my legs and placed it over Robert's pants. Then I took off my sandals and he rose to embrace me. We kissed again, and again it was a long, demanding kiss that took our
breath away.
"Laura," he whispered.
I didn't look down, but I felt him move his
hands to his waist. I kept my eyes closed as he
stepped out of his briefs and then gently lowered my
panties. I stepped out of them as if I were stepping
gingerly into a warm bath.
For a long moment, we didn't touch, we didn't
move. It was as if we had brought each other to the
brink, to the cliff from which we could never turn
back once we stepped forward.
"You're the most beautiful woman in the world,
Laura. I love you so much, my heart aches." Wave after wave of warnings drifted over me,
but my body was tingling and the voices of restraint
were dying under the rush of desire. I threw all
caution aside and made the eventful step forward.
Suddenly Robert's hands were on my hips and his lips
were pressed to mine, our bodies touching.
Everywhere. And yet, we still couldn't get enough of
each other. Our legs had to rub against each other, our
stomachs, chests. Our hands had to stroke all over until we were clinging to each other like two people
holding on for dear life.
Before we knew it, we were in bed, our heads
comfortably resting against the fluffy pillows, our
bodies entwined under the cool sheets.
"Don't worry," Robert whispered. "I'm
prepared."
I closed my eyes and drifted, my head spinning
as I waited. Moments later, I felt his lips on my
stomach. He worked his way up, between my breasts,
over them and then to my mouth as he moved
gracefully between my legs.
"Robert," I said weakly, almost too weakly for
him to hear.
"This really is our honeymoon," he said before
we joined.
I moaned, I-cried, I grasped his hair so hard I
was sure he was in pain, but he didn't resist or
complain. I felt tears streaming down my cheeks and
when he felt them, he kissed them away. When it was
over, we lay there, still entwined, both of us breathing
hard.
Then I gazed down and saw the blood on the
bed sheet. "Oh no, look," I said.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of that." He started to smile. I pulled away from him, spinning around and
pressing my face to the pillow.
"Laura," he said, pressing his palm to my back.
"I love you, Laura."
I felt like I had fallen back to earth, like I had
been traveling on a cloud, and suddenly, it turned gray
and somber and began to rain down on the Sea
Marina, releasing me along with the raindrops. My
heart was still pounding, but my mind was clearing,
the thoughts rushing in like water that had found an
opening.
We had done it; I had gone too far; I had lost
control. Or had I simply wanted it as much as Robert?
Was it a sin to want it? Was all that Daddy taught and
preached true, and would he take one look at me and
read the sin in my eyes? Would it break his heart? I thought about Cary, too: about his distrust of
all the boys who looked at me or spoke to me.
Nothing would convince him that this was good and
pure and beautiful. He would say I had simply
become someone's little trophy.
"Laura, what's wrong?" Robert asked softly. "I don't know what came over me. Why. . how .
."
"Laura, we didn't do anything wrong. We love
each other. Don't start feeling guilty."
"Why shouldn't I feel guilty, Robert?" I
snapped and got up to gather my clothes. "This is
exactly what everyone would have thought would
happen if I came here and spent the evening with you
alone. Every accusing eye and word, every sneer--" "But we didn't do anything wrong. We love
each other, want each other."
"I drank too much wine," I said, flailing about
for an excuse.
"You don't mean that, Laura. You don't mean
the only reason you made love to me like you did was
because you got drunk." Robert lay there, looking at
me with such pain in his eyes.
"I don't know what I mean," I wailed. "I just
feel like we went too far, that we ruined something
true and pure." "That's foolish."
"It's not foolish to me, Robert!" I cried. "Okay, okay," he said, hol
ding up his hands.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean you were foolish, but you
know in your heart, this was what you wanted, too." "That's just it. Maybe did, but maybe I was
wrong to want it."
"You weren't wrong," he insisted.
"That's something boys usually say," I shot
back. "Not this boy. I say what's true and good for us.
I don't find myself in bed with every girl I meet and I
don't fall in love with every girl I meet, but I fell in
love with you." put on my sandals and looked at him. "I'd better go home," I said.
"Laura--"
"Please, Robert. I just want to go home." "You're punishing yourself unfairly," he said,
rising. He started to dress.
"I'll go down and clean up while you dress," I
said. "You better do something about the bed sheet,
too."
"It's all right. I can do it later."
I left anyway and hurried down the stairs. I was
already clearing the table when he caught up with me.
He seized my wrist.
"I said I'd do that, Laura. Stop this. Stop
punishing yourself."
I tried to swallow, but couldn't. I just stood
there, nodding softly. He embraced me and held me,
stroking my hair.
"Laura, Laura, Laura," he sang. "If I thought I
made you unhappy . ."
"I'm all right," I said, straightening. "Just take
me home. I'll feel better after I get some sleep." "That's right. Things always look better in the
morning, don't they?"
"Not always," I said prophetically. I looked
back at the dining room table. Our dinner had been so
beautiful, so dream-like. Then why was I so confused,
so twisted with mixed feelings?
All the way home, Robert cajoled, pleaded,
begged me not to think poorly of him or myself. He
repeated his love for me and swore he would go to the
ends of the earth to follow me if he had to. He said he
would rather walk on fire than hurt me in any way
ever.
I tried to talk, but all my words got jumbled and
stuck in my throat. All I did was look out the window
at the dark ocean and the crashing waves. I didn't
understand my own feelings. How could I explain
them to him?
"Give me some time," I told him when we
arrived at my house.
Sadly, he nodded.
"I was hoping this would be a special night . . ." "It was," I said. I kissed him quickly on the
cheek and ran to the front door. I didn't turn back to
wave. I went inside and up to my room before anyone could see my face. Then I went to the bathroom and threw cold water on my cheeks. "Laura? Is that you,