A Twin Desire Ch. 07 - Finale

"That's the stuff!" my catcher, Tom, said after one fastball popped his glove. "That's the stuff to land you in the majors," he said tossing the ball back to me.

"Right," I smirked as I caught it and turned back to the mound.

I took my stance and looked in for my signal. 'Curve?' I shook my head. 'Come on, Tom. I'm throwing fire right now. Save the curve for later.' He signaled for a slider. I shook him off again. It took two more signals before getting to the big dog. I nodded. Another pitch, another glove popper.

We played for a few hours then most of us met for a burger. I suddenly found myself as the center of attention in "Who would lead the team in pro scouts this season?"

"Dude, if you keep throwing the smoke you were throwing today, you're a lock to be drafted." All the guys agreed.

"If I start thinking like that, I'll screw things up for sure," I said. "You guys are gonna jinx me." I was speaking in faux humility. I know I'm good when my pitches are on. I was already a lock for the draft and removed my name from consideration by announcing my intention to graduate college. I tried to be modest but I'm sure my cover wasn't working.

**** BARBARA ****

When I answered the phone, I figured Mama P was going to ask me to do something fun for Jill during the upcoming break. I found it a bit weird that she was calling me while I was trying desperately to talk to Jill myself.

"Hi, Mama P," I bubbly answered. She didn't immediately respond.

After a few seconds, she finally spoke. Her tone was sullen and sad. "Hi Barb," she said.

I waited a few seconds, my heart pounding in my chest. 'Something is way wrong,' I thought. When she didn't continue, I did. "Mrs. Anderson, what's wrong?"

I heard her sniffle and heard sobs. I heard Jill's dad in the background ask if she wanted him to do this. I heard her whisper a faint, "No. I have to."

"Barb are you sitting down?" she asked then simply said, "Please sit down."

I was numb. I don't remember if I sat down. I simply asked, "Mrs. Anderson, please tell me what's going on."

"It's Jill, dear," she said and choked up. "Jill was k ... GOD! Barb, I'm so sorry to be making this call. Jill was killed in a traffic accident last night."

"NO! NO WAY! NO FUCKIN WAY!" shot out my mouth. "WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU TELLING ME?" I skipped the first stage of grief and jumped directly over shock to denial. "SHE WAS AT MY HOUSE LAST NIGHT! THERE'S NO FUCKIN WAY SHE'S DEAD!" I blurted.

I suddenly came to my senses. "OH, MY GOD. I'M SORRY FOR THE LANGUAGE," I said in shame.

She took it in stride. "I'm so sorry, Barbara. She's gone. My baby girl is gone," she started sobbing. I started sobbing.

"HOW? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?" I blurted again.

"She ... she ... she was ... I can't do this," she stammered. Her voice became distant. "Stan, I can't talk. Please talk to her," she said as her voice trailed off. Mr. Anderson's voice came on the line.

"Barb, we're sorry to call you with this," he said.

I suddenly gained a little control of my emotions. 'Shit! I'm being such an asshole,' I thought. 'I'm her friend. These are her parents. They're feeling this much deeper than I can imagine.'

"Mr. Anderson, I'm so sorry," I said through my sobs. "Please tell Mama P that I'm sorry for my reaction. It wasn't very sensitive of me. I can't imagine the pain she's in."

"Barb," he said with a steady, calming voice. 'How do men do that?' I wondered. "it's understandable. You may not be our daughter by birth but you're family. We can't compare grief. This is devastating news for all of us."

I now felt the shock but was regaining my ability to reason. "What happened, Mr. Anderson?"

"Jill was driving on a main road. A drunk driver ran a stoplight and t-boned her. His car hit directly on the driver's side door. The policeman told us his estimated speed was over sixty miles per hour when he hit her. She felt no pain. She died instantly."

'That's not comforting,' I thought. "That's good," I said still crying. "Mr. Anderson is there anything I can do to help you from up here?"

"Please call me Stan," he said, "or pops like you always have." I realized the news was messing with me. I've never been so formal with Jill's parents. It's always been Mama P and Pops. "There's nothing to be done right now Barb," he said. "When you feel up to it, maybe you can start letting her friends know. Please don't put anything on social media and be sure your friends don't. We still have our family to inform. We'll be flying up tomorrow morning. We'll call you when we arrive."

"Please don't book a hotel. We have a room you can stay in while you're here," I suggested. "I don't know if Jill told you that Brian and I moved into an apartment. We have a spare bedr ... um ... spare bed for you." I almost said bedroom. Did he catch my faux pas?

"That's very kind of you, Barb. We'll get a room. Aside from not wanting to impose, we'll want to keep to ourselves," he explained.

"Okay, Mr. ... um ... Stan ... um ... Pops," I stammered.

I hung up the phone and blankly stared at the wall. I realized I wasn't crying. I realized I was feeling nothing. The shock had most definitely set in. I was paralyzed. I had no clue what to do.

As I sat staring blankly, my mind wandered back to the first time I met Jill. The first time I saw her was as we both stood up on the starting platforms getting ready to race the first time. I remembered my first thought was 'She can't swim. Look at her.' She didn't have the athletic build of a swimmer. She was a bit pudgy. I didn't take her serious as a competitor and it cost me. I never underestimated her again.

I remembered the first day of school when she was the new girl and feeling very alone. My only interactions with her to that point was swim races. I hated her for beating me. But I was drawn to her. When I saw her walking in the hall looking lost before classes started, I helped her. We had the same teacher. I walked her to class, and we've been best friends since.

I remembered when she started her period. When I started mine. We started just a week apart. We were horrified and yet so fascinated. It was then that Brian became a scab that would never heal; I could never pick. Jill replaced him as my 'go-to' and I began treating him rudely. I felt ashamed by my thoughtless actions. Jill was always scolding me for how I treated him. I knew she had a crush on him which only made things worse.

I smiled when I remembered our first double date. Our first dates. We spent the entire night ignoring our dates and talking to each other. Those two boys thought we were the bomb and tried like hell to get a second date. I laughed out loud at all the creative ways they tried to woo us. Then I cried when I realized nobody would woo her again.

"WHY?" I screamed. "WHY JILLY? GOD DAMN IT! WHY?" I wanted to break something. The only thing within reach was my phone. I picked it up, pulled it back, and started to throw. I stopped. This was my lifeline. I can't be without a phone right now. The desire to throw something faded. I screamed in anger instead.

I need to talk to someone. I fumbled with my phone. I hit a few numbers and reached for Send. I realized that I was about to call Jill's number.

"SHIT!" I yelled. Fuck it," I said and hit send. 'Maybe this time she'll answer,' I thought as denial set in. It went immediately to voicemail. I sat crying listening to Jill's voice. When I heard the tone, I left an ill-advised message.

"What the fuck, Jill? You're fuckin dead? What the fuck? I mean, what the fuck? I need you. Call me. Call me, you fuckin bitch." I pushed End.

I broke down and started crying harder. "That was fuckin brilliant," I cried to myself. "You just left a message for your dead friend."

I came to my senses long enough to dial Brian's number. It rang several times before going to voicemail. I hung up.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" I yelled at my husband. "ANSWER YOUR FUCKIN PHONE!"

I called Vanessa. She needs to hear this from me. I tried to dial but my eyes were too teary to see the screen. I had to get a tissue to wipe my eyes.

"Hey B," Van answered spritely. "Ready to spill your guts?"

Her happy tone and question placed a huge weight on me. 'God, how do I tell her?' I thought. I don't know how long I was silent.

"Barb? You there?" she asked breaking my trance.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," I mumbled, then sniffled. "I ... um ... Van, ... SHIT!"

"Barb? What's wrong?" she asked concerned. I started crying again. "I'm coming over," she said.

I didn't have time to argue. Before I could speak, the line went dead. 'SHIT! I'm a fuckin mess. I don't want her to come over,' I thought. Then I realized her coming over was better. We could comfort each other.

**** BRIAN ****

After playing, we met up at the local burger joint.

"You were throwin some smoke today, B," Tom, my catcher, said. "That's the kind of shit them scouts will be lookin for come springtime."

"I couldn't hit him for shit," said Larry smacking me on the arm.

"Careful, asshole," I scolded Larry. "That's the golden ticket you're messin with."

"You're a shoo-in for the first round, dude," Tom said, pushing me nearly off my chair. "Maybe we can all ride his coattails," he said loudly, holding up his beer. All the teammates cheered.

"Blah, blah, blah," I responded. "I'm just one of you," I said trying to act humble. Truth is, I know I'm high on the scouting list. And, yes, today I was throwing smoke. Barring any injuries, I was sure to be playing in the Majors next year.

My phone beeped. Between laughing and carrying on with the guys, I looked to see the message from Vanessa.

[Vanessa TEXT] "Brian U need to get home. FAST!"

"What the fuck?" I muttered.

[Brian TEXT] "What's going on?"

All the talk around the table was suddenly a fading blur of laughter and immature jokes as I wondered why Vanessa would be telling me to get home. My phone chimed again.

[Vanessa TEXT] "BRIAN. GET HOME! NOW!"

I panicked. 'Did she lose the baby?' I wondered. I stood and pulled five bucks from my pocket. "Gotta go, boys. See ya tomorrow." I walked away as everyone booed. I was hit in the back with bottle caps and wadded up napkins.

When I opened the door, I wasn't greeted by the normal sound of loud music and Barb dancing around doing her thing. The apartment was quiet, and darkness hung in the air. I was greeted immediately by Vanessa. "She's devastated, Brian. She needs you."

"Devastated?" I asked. "About what? Did she lose ...?" I stopped myself before exposing our big secret.

Vanessa curiously looked at me. "Lose what?"

Flustered, I replied, "Nothing. What's going on?"

"She'll tell you," she said and hugged me. "I'm sorry. If you guys need anything, let me know." She kissed my cheek and pushed past me and out the door.

I found Barb in the bedroom sitting on the bed. Her eyes were red and puffy. Even with the red, puffy eyes, she looked sexy as hell. She looked up at me blankly, moved to the edge of the bed, stood slowly, walked over, threw her arms around me, and started sobbing. These were not tears of joy from the night before. These were tears of sorrow, of loss, of mourning.

"Barb," I said confused, "what's up?"

"Brian," she sobbed, "Patsy Anderson called me."

The name didn't immediately register. It took a second for me to realize she was talking about Jill's mom. She's like Barb's second mom. She's called her 'Mama P' for as long as I remember.

Without fail, whenever we have a break from school, if the Andersons can't afford to fly Jill home, they have Barb and Jill's other friends do something to surprise her and give her a taste of home. Spring Break was a week away. When we drove home for Christmas, Jill's dad probably used two years' worth of savings to fly his family to Seattle instead of flying her home. He's a schoolteacher with limited funds. Jill loved it.

My confusion grew. "You talk to her all the time, don't ya? Is she wanting you to do something for Jill for Spring Break" I asked without thinking and for no good reason. Barb didn't respond. "Barb, what happened?"

"Oh, Brian," she started sobbing. "It's ... it's ... it's ... it's ..."

"Hey, slow down. I'm here. Take your time."

Barb raised her head to look at me. Her eyes locked on mine. Sadness, fear, and doubt filled her. "Brian," she said, "Jill's dead."

Her words hit me in the face with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. "WHAT!?" I gasped. "HOW?" I stood in shock as Barb cried and sobbed. "How is that even possible? She was here last night."

Through her sobs, she continued. "She was t-boned on her way home last night. She was killed instantly." I couldn't console her.

I thought about Jill announcing the vintage year of our 'wine' last night. Then I thought about her serving partner. "Wait. Vanessa?" I asked. "How is she okay? They were together."

"They drove separately," she answered. "Jill was alone."

Numbness set in. I walked us back to our bed and sat us down. "Baby, I am so sorry. I don't know what I can do to ease your pain. Tell me what to do."

"You're doing it. Just hold me and love me. Tell me you'll never leave me," she sobbed.

I held Barb as she muddled her way through the events of the day. She snuggled into me as she talked quietly and cried, laughed, sobbed. She spoke of her memories and all the fun things they had done together. She spoke of the heartbreak when their stupid boyfriends hurt them.

My mind wandered back to my one night of intimacy with Jill. Of all the girls I've been out with, Jill is the only one who could've stolen my heart from Barb. Like Barb, Jill was a protector. She was kind to those in the most need of kindness. She stood her ground to bullies to protect the bullied. I admired her as much as I did Barb.

"Brian?" she said lifting herself to look in my eyes. "Can you tell me something?" she asked.

"Sure, Twink. Whaddaya wanna know?" I replied.

"This is very personal and may be uncomfortable. You don't need to answer," she said.

"I'll answer anything," I said.

"Back when we returned to school, I had to tell Vanessa about us, ya know." I nodded. "I told Jill too," she said and studied my reaction.

"Oh, really?" I replied trying to maintain my poker face. 'Does she know about my night with Jill?' I thought.

She smiled at me. Then laughed a little. "You're good," she said. "but not great. Good try though."

"She told you?" I asked, disappointed in my feeble attempt to protect her from the news.

"She let it slip," she nodded with a smile.

'Great. What does she want to know about it?' popped into my mind. "I'm sorry I never told you," I said weakly.

"It's okay, sweetie," she said convincingly. Now it was my turn to study her face. She meant it. "I'm glad you were there for her."

"It was only one time, babe," I said feeling guilty.

"Hey, hey. No. I don't want an explanation or an apology. You did nothing wrong," she said. Again, I studied her for any crack in her sincerity. I could find none.

"So, what do you want to know?" I asked almost regretting the question.

"She said your night together was beautiful. She thought you were a very thoughtful lover," she said.

"Barb," I said. I wanted to stop her. "Where are you going with this?"

She paused for a few seconds and made sure she had my full attention. "It gives me comfort that she experienced love from someone who treated her with respect and love. I'm so lucky that you and I have found our love, but I've felt so guilty that I stole you away from my best friend."

"You didn't steal me away from her," I said in protest. She hushed me with a finger to my lips.

After a pause, she got to the point. "Would you tell me about your night with her?" she asked.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said with a scowl. "Why would I want to tell you? More to the point, why would you want to know? Are you trying to torture yourself?"

She didn't lose any focus. "She loved you, babe. She has always loved you. I know you have feelings for her. Until we realized what we have, I always figured you'd marry Jill. I could see it in both your eyes."

"Yeah, I've always had a thing for her but you're asking me to tell you about an intimate night we had. You don't need that right now," I pleaded.

Barb pulled herself up and threw her leg across mine and straddled me. She took her hands and cupped my cheeks. "I know this is strange," she said, "but you've always known how to comfort me and make me feel better. When Jill told me about you and her, she made it clear that you were a perfect gentleman and lover. I'd like to hear how you made her feel; how you made her feel loved and special."

"Barb," I started again, looking down and shaking my head. "I ... I ... I really don't..."

She leaned in and kissed me softly. She pulled my gaze up to her eyes. "Please," she begged in a whisper.

I shook my head again, mostly in disbelief than refusing. "Barb ..."

"Please," she whispered again.

"How much do you want to know?" I asked.

"Everything, baby. Everything," she replied.

**** BARBARA ****

'He's looking at me as if I'm a necro perv,' I thought. I could see the confusion in his eyes. I'm sure I wasn't being clear in my request.

"What? Are you some kind of necrophiliac?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

I burst out laughing. Belly laughing. Uncontrollable belly laughing. I collapsed onto his chest, laughing so hard I was hurting. I could feel his confusion as he slowly put his arms around me. That made me laugh harder. Still laughing, I rolled off him and onto my back. Just as my laughter started to die down, I looked at him. He was still confused and looking at me with an amused smirk. I started laughing again.

"What?" he blurted. "What's so fuckin funny?" he asked and started laughing himself.

I was laughing so hard I thought I'd suffocate myself. I rolled over and swung my legs off the bed and sat with my back to him. I knew if I looked at him again, I would never stop laughing.

Brian was now laughing nearly as hard as I was. Probably for much different reasons. For him, it was probably more of being infected with my laughter. For me, aside from his hilarious question just moments after my silly thought, I needed the emotional release. Even though I was laughing my ass off, I was feeling the grief as hard as anyone who loses their closest friend.

As I sat there, the laughter, again began to die down. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the grief and began sobbing again. I cupped my face in my hands and sobbed. I felt the bed move and realized Brian wasn't on the bed. Suddenly Brian was sitting by my side, holding me, comforting me. No words. Just his loving arms wrapping me up in his manly strength. I melted into him as he held me, wiped my messy hair out of my face, dried my tears, and planted sweet little kisses on my head. No words were spoken. I felt safe.

"You know, honey, we probably wouldn't be here, right now, if it hadn't been for Jill," he finally said.

I looked up at him and saw he was staring off into space. He was deep in thought. "Why's that?" I asked.

"The night we were ... um ... uh ... shit ..."

"Just tell me, baby," I encouraged.

He shook his head, still in disbelief of what I had asked. "The night we were ... intimate ..." his voice trailed off as if he was confessing to something he was ashamed of. He looked at me to find my reassuring stare.

"The night we were intimate; my feelings about it have nothing to do with the physical act. The most memorable thing about it was how we felt afterward." He paused and again stared off into space. "There were no regrets, but we also knew it could never happen again."