Inseparable

A woman begins receiving messages from a total stranger, allegedly coming from her comatose twin sister.

Inseparable

by: moonlit cove

Losing a sister is hard.  Losing an identical twin sister is devastating.  I couldn’t imagine living without my twin sister - until it happened, that is.  Until I had no choice but to try and cope without her.

 

We were inseparable, as so many twins are.  We did everything together.  So much so that people would refer to us together as if referring to a single person:

 

“Did Tracy-and-Gracie come to the party?” a friend might ask.

 

Or when our parents were upset they might yell, “Tracy-and-Gracie, get upstairs this instant!”  My name was always first because I was a minute and thirty-three seconds older, and I reminded Gracie of that every time the opportunity arose.

 

The bond I had with Gracie was indescribable.  It went way beyond finishing each others’ sentences.  It was almost as if we knew each others’ thoughts without ever saying a word.  I swear sometimes I could read her mind, and I could feel her reading mine as well.

 

As young girls, when we’d misbehave we would be sent to our bedroom with the demand that our parents not hear a peep out of us, but it didn’t matter to us.  We still communicated in complete silence.  I can’t explain it.  Something about occupying the same womb at the same time had melded us together in such a way that what we shared during our twenty-six years together on this earth went way beyond just close physical proximity.

 

That’s how I knew something had gone horribly wrong that day.  I was actually across town when it happened, but I knew it all the same.  At the time, I was working as a paralegal and I was on my lunch break when it hit me.  My ears rang.  I doubled over with intense pain in my abdomen.  At first, several disjointed thoughts poured through my mind.  Was this food poisoning?  Appendicitis?  Something worse?

 

It didn’t take much longer for me to figure out what it was, because something…left me…at that very moment.  It was like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly the power had gone out on a connection that had always been present within me.  The channeling of Gracie’s warm, loving and kind spirit that had always served as background noise was suddenly gone.  Along with the pain, an immense loneliness swept over me.  Everything felt so dark, bleak and desolate.

 

A few minutes later the pain and ringing in my ears wore off, but the feeling of isolation did not.  Once I composed myself, I dialed my sister’s phone, which eventually led to her voicemail.  I told my boss I was ill and immediately left to go find Gracie.

 

Later that evening, I stood over her comatose body in the hospital.  She’d been out of surgery for a few hours by that point.  They’d had to go in and remove a segment of her skull to allow her brain to swell.  She was wrapped in gauze and bandages and only the centermost part of her face was left exposed.  Her eyes were purple and swollen.  A large white corrugated hose was squeezed between her lips, which were twice their usual size.  Other clear plastic tubes entered her nostrils.  Below the neck she was covered in thick layers of sheets and blankets, and there was some sort of mechanical device under them that contracted and released at perfect intervals.

 

I wasn’t aware of my tears until they began rolling off my cheeks.  I stood over her along with mom and dad until the hospital staff insisted that we could no longer be in the room.  At that time we retreated to a waiting room with chairs that looked comfortable at first, but were unbearable after four or so hours.  I did not sleep at all that first night.  I could not remove the horrific visions from my mind’s eye.  I kept seeing Gracie walking back to her office after her lunch hour - seeing her being so careful to watch the crosswalk signals - seeing the bright white letters “WALK” light up - and seeing her take the first steps off of the sidewalk before the careless driver careened around the corner.

 

Those hours in the waiting room turned into days.  The doctors were doing all they could, but had no idea when or if Gracie would awaken.  Eventually, we had no choice but to go about our lives, still visiting as often as we could.

 

I admit that I slipped into some level of depression during that dark time period, though at the time I probably would not have recognized it as such.  Once an extremely punctual person, I began running late for work almost daily.  I didn’t spend quite the effort that I used to in preparing myself either.  I no longer had the desire to dress nicely or fuss with makeup.  I did just enough to get by without receiving verbal admonishment from my superiors.  It was as if I couldn’t function properly without the connection I’d felt my entire life.

 

On one particular day that I spent the afternoon at Gracie’s bedside, a nurse came in and asked for privacy to run a test.  I stepped out for a while, but was tired of the nearby waiting room filled with squirmy children and loud TV programs, so I went a little further down the hall in search of something a bit more private.

 

One corridor led to another, and soon I was no longer in the busy part of the hospital.  The hallway in that wing was narrower, the lighting slightly dimmer, and the overall ambience much more subdued.  I found a small, dark alcove with only two chairs and a snack machine in it.  There was no television and, most importantly, there were no other people.  I sat in one of the chairs, leaned my head back against the wall, rested my hands on my abdomen, and exhaled.

 

It wasn’t long until I heard slow footsteps approaching down the long, desolate corridor.  The rhythmic clacking of the shoes lulled me into a trance-like state.  As the sound came closer I began to experience the feeling I used get from my mysterious connection with Gracie again.  It was subtle at first, but grew in strength and intensity as the person approached.  I reveled in the feeling that I had missed so much recently, and I just knew that Gracie had awoken.  I needed to get to her as fast as I could.  I was caught off guard when the footsteps stopped just outside the alcove, then stepped inside with me as I was about to stand and leave.

 

“Tracy?”  His voice was soft and gentle.

 

“Yes?” I said, completely bewildered, “Is she awake?”  It wasn’t until after I’d asked the question that I realized that the man was not dressed as a doctor or nurse, but rather in plain street clothes.

 

“I’m sorry.  I’m afraid not,” the man said.

 

I gave him a puzzled look.  “Are you a doctor?” I finally asked.

 

“No,” he replied in his soothing voice, “but I do have a message for you.”

 

I wasn’t sure what to make of this.  I looked past him into the hallway to see if there was anyone else around.  This entire portion of the hospital seemed to be uninhabited.  I returned my gaze to the man.

 

“Gracie asked me to tell you this,” he continued.

 

My heart raced.  I could feel my pulse pounding in my chest and neck.

 

“She wants you to help someone out.  She-”

 

“Wait!  How is she talking to you?” I demanded to know.  “She only communicates in MY mind!”

 

He placed his hand on my shoulder and I recoiled instinctively.  He lowered his hand then began, “Tracy, right now she can only communicate with those that are…”  He paused as if trying to decide the best way to explain it, “…those in her realm.  There are some that refer to us as angels.”

 

I backed away.  I didn’t know who this guy was or how he knew about Gracie and I, but I didn’t believe what he was telling me.  The man was visibly concerned that he’d startled me.  He reached forward to console me, but I squeezed past him and into the hallway.  I started back toward Gracie’s room.

 

He stood in place, but called after me, “She wants you to help someone.  A little boy needs you!”

 

I kept walking at a brisk pace.

 

He still did not move.  “Room 304!” he cried out from afar as I turned the corner.

 

Back in Gracie’s room, I was distraught and puzzled by the mysterious encounter.  I told her about it even though I knew there would be no response - just the cycling of the ventilator and electronic blips on the heart monitor.  I tried my best to rub the incident out of my mind.

 

My parents arrived in the evening and I decided to go to the hospital cafeteria to bring dinner back up for all of us.  The signage directing me to the cafeteria led me not only to the third floor, but directly past room 304.  I slowed my steps as I approached the open door of that room.  I could hear voices inside, as well as crying.

 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Perkins, but we’re doing everything we can,” one voice said.

 

I stopped just outside the door, feeling guilty for eavesdropping.  There was more crying.  Then the voice came again, “It’s just that AB negative is one of the rarest blood types.  Unless we can find a donor…” the doctor trailed off.

 

I felt a surge of energy rush through my body.  Gracie and I had known that we were both AB negative ever since we were eleven years old when we were required to have medical exams to enter middle school.  Even though I wanted to help, I did not dare barge into the room during this private moment.  I moved ahead, and while passing the doorway to 304 I glanced out the corner of my eye and saw the small child resting in the bed.

 

The sign overhead told me to go left to enter the cafeteria, but instead I went right and proceeded to the nearest nurse’s station.  A woman with glasses and her hair in a bun looked up at me.  I didn’t wait for her to speak.  “The little boy in room 304,” I said, pointing a thumb over my shoulder, “I want to donate blood for him.”

 

The lady gave me a slightly odd look.  “Are you family?” she asked.

 

“Um, no.  I don’t know him.  I just have a feeling I might be able to help him.”

 

After an even stranger look, the lady began typing on her computer.  Finally, she said, “I’m not at liberty to discuss his particular case with you, but you’re more than welcome to donate to the bank.”

 

“Okay, I’ll do it,” I confirmed.

 

She stood and led me to a lab where another attendant came and instructed me to lay on a gurney.  Twenty minutes later, I was bandaged up and on my way.

 

- - - - -

 

In the days to come I saw little progress in Gracie.  However, someone else was improving in strides.  I found myself wanting to eat in the cafeteria more and more just so I could pass by room 304, observing the boy’s progress just a few seconds at a time.  He was awake and alert one day, then talking when I passed the next day, then laughing a few days after that.  The last day I saw him he was up walking around, and then the next day he was gone.  At first my stomach sank when I saw the empty room, until I realized he’d probably been discharged.  I smiled and went ahead to the cafeteria.

 

As I was eating dinner that evening, I saw the man from the empty corridor eating alone at a table on the other side of the room.  When he caught me glancing at him he got up and approached my table.  I felt the connection to Gracie begin buzzing in my head again, and it got stronger the closer he came to me.  And even though I was a little uneasy when he sat down in the chair next to me, I was so happy to be able to bask in the aura of Gracie.

 

“Gracie thanks you,” he said solemnly.

 

“How did you know about this?” I asked, still not completely believing his back story.

 

“Gracie has been communicating with me ever since her-…ever since she’s been in this state.”

 

I felt tears forming in my eyes.  Jealousy swelled inside me as I coveted what this stranger now had that was rightfully mine - the mental connection with my twin sister.

 

“Is she going to get better?” I demanded to know through my tears.  “If you’re who you say you are, tell me if she’s going to get better!”

 

“I don’t know, Tracy.  That’s not up to me.”

 

I put my face in my hands and the stranger reached out to comfort me on the shoulder.  This time I did not resist.

 

“There is something else though,” he began.  “She told me you can help someone else.”

 

I listened intently as he filled me in.

 

- - - - -

 

Two hours later I stood in Gracie’s apartment.  Mom let me borrow her extra set of keys.  I went to her bedroom and began searching through the drawers of her clothes dresser.  The stranger had given me explicit instructions from Gracie on where to find what was needed.  I removed several pairs of balled-up socks in the back of the top drawer and found a large manila envelope.

 

For the last five years, Gracie had been a social worker.  She loved children and would do anything to protect them and ensure their well-being.  The envelope I held in my hand would do just that.  On it, in my sister’s scrawl, was written “Josie Keppler #1432”.

 

I was told that I needed to get this envelope to someone named Harriet Stivers, one of Gracie’s co-workers, so that she could make sure it ended up in Josie’s case file.  Inside was evidence that Gracie was going to present at an upcoming court hearing that would ensure that Josie would finally be able to get out of her abusive home environment and into foster care.  Apparently Gracie had been amassing documentation for the hearing including a doctor’s sworn affidavit concerning the origin of some marks discovered on Josie.  I was given explicit instructions not to open the envelope.  Just deliver it to Harriet Stivers.

 

I took the envelope and turned to leave.  On top of the nightstand next to Gracie’s bed was something I hadn’t seen in a very long time.  It was a journal book.  I’d seen her write inside it on many occasions when we were young girls.  She would never let me look inside, no matter how much I begged her.

 

My intention was to walk past the book, exit the apartment, and deliver the envelope to Harriet Stivers.  But temptation and curiosity convinced me to do otherwise.  I picked up the journal.  I briefly leafed through the pages, catching excerpts from our lives as I skimmed her writing.  I smiled as I read about occurrences and people that I hadn’t thought about for years.  When my eyes became moist, I snapped the book shut and, against my better judgment, carried it out along with Josie’s envelope.

 

It was nearly 7:30 when I returned home from Gracie’s office after delivering the envelope to Harriet.  Thankfully, she was working late to prepare for the case.  She nearly broke down and cried when I presented it to her.  She questioned me on how I knew, and I simply told her that I know my sister well.

 

“Thank you.  You’ve just helped save a sweet little girl,” she told me as I was leaving.

 

“No.  Gracie did,” I replied.

 

I sat on the couch in my own apartment and held the journal book in front of me.  Deep inside I knew I should not violate my sister’s privacy, but the temptation was just too great.  I skimmed pages, searching frantically for a specific timeline of events that I wanted - no, needed to revisit.

 

I knew I was getting close when I began reading entries about Gracie’s ex-boyfriend, Michael.  I had done something that I still regret to this day back when she was seeing Michael.  You see, I liked Michael also.  Sometimes when he would call the house, I would pretend to be Gracie on the phone.  Once when he stopped over for a surprise visit when Gracie was out shopping, I pretended to be her.  I don’t think he ever suspected a thing.  Of course, I didn’t tell Gracie about this, and similar incidents happened on two more occasions.  The gig was up when he started asking me about a conversation that he and Gracie had had previously.  When I got lost, he then knew what was going on.

 

Gracie was so mad that she didn’t speak to me for nearly a month.  It was the first time I’d felt the mental connection between us so utterly broken.  I hated that time period.  I never did anything inappropriate with Michael, and I had no intention to.  It was just a sort of prank that went too far, and I regretted it with all my being.  I tried to tell Gracie as much, but she never wanted to talk about it.  She and Michael lasted another month and then he was gone.  I always blamed myself for their breakup.

 

Looking through the journal pages, I had only one mission in mind - to find out once and for all if Gracie had ever forgiven me.  I’d begged her to do so repeatedly for months, but she just avoided the subject.  I read all the entries pertaining to Michael and my little prank.  Within those pages she expressed a serious loss of trust in me.  She was furious, even to the point of stating that she hated me.

 

Through my tears I scanned the pages that followed.  I read all the way out almost six months from the incident and never found any closure.  I shut the book and sobbed hysterically.

 

- - - - -

 

During the night, the phone woke me up.  I glanced at my alarm clock - 3:10 AM.  I knew this was going to be bad news.  It was my mother telling me to come to the hospital right away.

 

Gracie’s vital signs had started to plummet during the night.  The family had gathered in her room just in time to witness her final moments.  As my parents and I stood over her bed, the stranger walked into the room.  My mouth slacked open, and I couldn’t believe that no one else was reacting.  No one else even looked at him.  My heart began to pound as I realized that I was the only one that could see him.  He truly was who he said he was.  He nodded at me in a somber way, and I knew that he’d come to escort Gracie home.

 

He slowly worked his way over to my side and whispered directly into my ear, “There is one final person Gracie wishes to help.”  I waited to hear the rest, but he simply leaned closer and said, “October 15^th, 2010.”

 

I was puzzled by this, but I did not question him.  Instead, I simply watched him turn and exit the room, knowing that I would never see him again.  At that moment the heart monitor flat-lined and the doctors pronounced.

 

My mother collapsed to the floor, wailing.  Dad and I tried our best to comfort her, but we all ended up sobbing together on the floor in Gracie’s room.

 

It wasn’t until two weeks later that the angel’s message made sense to me.  I had picked up Gracie’s journal again in a desire to relive the happier times.  I noticed the dates written at the tops of the pages, and immediately knew what I needed to do.  I flipped aggressively until I found October 15^th, 2010.

 

And I began reading.

 

An open letter to my twin sister Tracy:

Dear Tracy,

I know it’s been over a year since our fight.  I wish I had the nerve to tell you this in person, but I can’t seem to bring it up tactfully.  I’m so sorry that I hated you during that time.  The month that we didn’t speak was awful for me.  Even though I was mad for what you did, I just wanted our separation to be over with.  I missed you intensely.  I will never allow that to happen to us again.  I have fully forgiven you for pretending to be me.  I might have even done the same thing in your shoes.  Michael is out of my life now anyway.  He wasn’t the right one for me, but I’ll always have you.  Just know that I will always love you.

Your bestest and only twin sister,

Gracie

 

Relief washed over me as I closed the journal.  I smiled through the tears that soaked my cheeks, and even chuckled slightly.  Amidst her death, Gracie had managed to help one final person - her “big” sister.

Reviews

[Quinn W]

I wasn't sure about this story at first but the more I read, the more I LOVED IT. I really liked the pars when the angel was talking-to her and I like that, despite their differences, she decided to help her twin. I think this was amazingly written. I had to remind myself a few times that the story isn't true, especially at the beginning before the angel. It was written so well, I thought you had literally sat down and written about a past experience. The emotion was felt the entire way through. I also thought your sentences flowed very well, something I struggle with. I really liked this story! The emotion was felt. THE FEELS!

[moonlit_cove]

Thank you, thank, thank you, Quinn! I really appreciate the kind words. I'm very glad you enjoyed it. I wasn't sure how I felt about this story at first. I got to the part where the angel tracked her down the first time and then froze. I sat on it for a few days before picking it back up again. Then It just sort of flowed frm there. Thank you for reading and commenting!

[Quinn W]

No problem!

[Quinn W]

Just read this again! Still love it! Still love it!!!!!!

[moonlit_cove]

:-). Thank you so much, Quinn! That made my day!

[Splatman73]

I see why you won the Short Story contest. This is great work Congratulations.

[moonlit_cove]

Thank you, kindly! I appreciate that.

[cimmy wuv xxxooo]

I don't usually read chapters or huge story's, because in all honestly even though some of them are worth it, I usually can't be bothered, I didn't really look how long this was I just started to read it without realising. By the time I realised I didn't want to stop, I was loving it and I wanted to see what happened.
This definitely captures the readers attention, this was an amazing story, really touches the heart.
What a bond they had, I am extremely close to my sister, so I relate quite a bit, but we don't have all that obviously and we ae not twins.
I loved every part of this story it had so many emotions in it, and had such a strong meaning to it.
Its great that she got to help out some people as part of Gracie's wishes.
The ending was awesome, the last person Gracie needed to help was Tracy.
What a beautiful story.
Well written for sure :)

[moonlit_cove]

Thank you so much, Cimmy! I really appreciate your kind words and your taking the time to read my story.

[cimmy wuv xxxooo]

Your very much welcome :)

[Jacob Clifford]

I love this story. I wish that some parts were fleshed out just a bit more, and there were rare grammatical errors, but truly, this is a great story. The only thing that REALLY bothered me was the final paragraph. I feel like there should be just a bit more emphasis on the grief Tracy felt, at least more than the happiness. But that's just my opinion. The way you have it already isn't wrong, just different from what I would have done.

[moonlit_cove]

Thank you so much, Clifford! I appreciate your kind review, and your thoughts & ideas as well. I'm glad that you enjoyed it.