My Twin Loves

She was on the couch, I sat in the recliner. She wore the typical uniform of a girl home for a quiet evening with her boyfriend-sweatpants and a T-shirt. I drank a beer, then another, but the alcohol did nothing to quench the fire inside me. I had her in profile, she was so beautiful I couldn't bear it. I loved her strawberry blonde hair. I loved watching her smile. I loved her. I loved Amy, I couldn't pretend anymore that I didn't. I loved her. I loved Lynn. I loved each of them, with all my heart.

When the movie was over I wanted to leave and let time and distance clear my head, but she asked my to help her clean up the dirty dishes and I said sure. I wanted to say so much more, but I couldn't, but because I didn't know WHAT to say.

Here's my excuse for what happened-my emotions were roiling inside me, my inhibitions drawn down by the alcohol. Actually, that's no excuse at all. If I'd drunk ginger ale all night it wouldn't have changed a damn thing.

Amy opened the pantry closet to put away a shaker of garlic salt and she couldn't reach the top shelf. She raised up on tiptoes, and as she reached her T-shirt rose as well and exposed a glorious inch of smooth white skin around her belly.

I said, "Here, I'll get it," and I stepped behind her and reached up to take the plastic bottle from her hand. I leaned forward to set the shaker on the shelf, and as I leaned my chest touched her back. My face brushed against her fragrant hair. I set the shaker down with a tiny thud, my nerveless fingers dropping it instead of resting it on the shelf. My hands fell to her breasts. I cupped them in my palms and drew her against my body. I pressed my lips to her neck and I kissed her, I kissed her and I squeezed my eyes shut hoping that if I didn't see what I was doing, maybe everything would just stop.

Amy gasped and twisted in my embrace but I held her tight and I kissed one side of her neck, then the other. I slid my hand under her T-shirt to caress her nipples and they were hard as pebbles. A tiny cry came from her lips and she wrenched around hard and grabbed my face and crushed her lips against mine, and we kissed with such ferocity that her teeth split my lip. I pulled her sweatpants down, she wasn't wearing panties, and she pulled my belt out of its loops and yanked my pants down to my ankles. I seized her shoulders and spun her so her back was to me and that's how I deflowered her, Amy leaning over the counter, me spearing her from behind. I wasn't gentle, I was too crazed with lust, I thrust inside her so hard that her feet lifted off the floor. I fucked her tasting blood in my mouth from my lip. It was so violent, so thrilling, that I knew how the insane must feel, to just let reason go and obey the voices shrieking in their heads. Only it was Amy's voice I heard, chanting her mantra, "Fuck me, Michael, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."

I don't know how long it went on, all I remember is stepping back and looking at her, my semen flowing down her thighs in a creamy river, Amy looking over her shoulder at me, her stormy blue eyes wild with excitement. I'd betrayed the woman I loved, with her sister no less. Another memory to savor on my deathbed, the exact moment when I'd destroyed my hopes for happiness.

Amy whispered, "I'm not a virgin anymore," and the wonder and amazement in her voice about broke my heard.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I whispered.

"Shh..."

"I can't believe I did this."

"It's OK," she soothed. "I loved it."

I was sobbing now, and Amy took me in her arms and pillowed my head on her shoulder. I'd just taken her virginity against her will and she was the one comforting me. She held me until I got hold of myself.

"I raped you."

"No you didn't. If you hadn't touched me first I would have." She kissed the top of my head. "You would never do anything as horrible as that."

"I betrayed Lynn. I love her more than anything in the world and this is how I treat her?" I looked up into her serene face. "And you?"

She stroked my cheek. "She'll never find out."

"I have to tell her. I can't lie to her like that."

"You can't tell her. What good would it do?" She took my face in her hands and looked at me hard. "Even if she did find out, Lynn would forgive you. I know she would. She loves you."

It sounded impossible. Then I said, "How can you forgive me?"

She kissed me on the lips, a gentle, chaste kiss. "I already have."

She told me to go home. I went. I couldn't bear to leave her, but staying was even worse. I fell asleep around 4AM, from sheer exhaustion. I woke to the sound of my phone ringing. It was noon.

"Hi honey," Lynn said.

All I could say was "Hi" back to her. Thankfully she didn't make me talk much. She said the wedding was wonderful, she had a great time, but she had to run a few errands and would it be OK if I came over around, say, five? I said that was fine. I said I loved her. She said she loved me. We hung up. I went back to bed.

Would Amy tell her? Would I? It wasn't like I didn't know how to keep a secret from a girlfriend. But I didn't know how I could keep THIS secret, how I could keep myself from Amy, from making love to her again. I loved her. I loved Lynn. I hated myself. I hated the world.

At five o'clock I arrived at their house numb from worry. My nervous system, overtaxed from the past 24 hours, was no longer a faultless connection from my brain to my body. My right eye had a twitch. The fingers of my left hand were numb. I had an erection and it wouldn't go away, not even after a long, icy shower.

I rang the bell. I tried to summon a smile, but the corners of my mouth refused to curl up. Yeah, Lynn wouldn't notice anything was wrong. Sure.

The door opened. Both twins stood in the doorway. They stood there, identical smiles on their lovely faces. They both wore white T-shirts and blue jeans and white sneakers.

And they both had strawberry blonde hair.

I stood gawking at them for maybe ten seconds. They looked exactly alike again. Exactly. The three of us had come to another of those moments where we couldn't talk about what was happening. They just smiled and waited for me to do something.

I could have walked away.

I could have dragged one of them inside and chopped off her hair with the kitchen shears.

But I didn't. If I'd had a white flag I would have waved it. I said, "Wow, you look great." I was looking at the space between their heads when I said it.

"Thanks," they said in unison.

We had a very nice dinner, the three of us, lasagna, garlic bread, salad. I didn't address either of them by name the whole time. I sat on one side of the table, they sat on either end. When we finished they told me to sit in the living room and relax while they did the dishes. While I sat like a corpse in their recliner one twin came in and kissed me. "Love you," she said before sashaying back to the kitchen. Lynn, I supposed. And then, a minute later, the other twin came out, kissed me the same way, said the same thing, and left me.

They tested me all night, and I passed with flying colors. I didn't even try to figure out who was who. I just smiled and let myself be kissed and touched and when it was time to go I gave each girl a neutral wave and walked to my car. I was a beaten man. I had two options. Give them both up, or love them both and see what the hell happened. Like I had a choice. Let the dice fly.

*****

My girlfriend was Lynn, her sister was Amy. That didn't change. As the weeks went by, it almost became normal. I loved them. They loved me. We were all happy. What was wrong with that?

A few months went by, my friends kept asking, "So, when are you two getting married?' Good question. I started looking for engagement rings. I asked Amy what kind of ring would Lynn like. Gold, silver, platinum? Princess cut, round, pear-shaped?

"A princess-cut stone in a white gold setting," she said.

"You're sure?"

Her eyes glittered. "Positive." And she would be, wouldn't she?

A month later I had the ring. Picking the right moment to ask a girl to be your wife is always difficult. For me it was a nightmare. I didn't know how they would react to the engagement. I was praying that once the lucky girl got the ring on her finger, she wouldn't give it up. That the ring would be enough to break the spell and end this lunacy forever. The problem was trying to figure out which girl to give it to, and when. I still had it in my head that one of the twins was the "real" Lynn, and that was the girl I wanted to marry. But there was no way to know which girl that was.

In the end I said the hell with it and asked her during dinner at a restaurant on Mt. Washington, the way everyone gets engaged in Pittsburgh. Our table was right by the window, the glittering towers of the Golden Triangle reflected in the flat Monongahela river. I got down on one knee, asked the question, got my answer, got a kiss, got some applause from our fellow diners. It went flawlessly.

"We have to tell Amy," she said, looking at the rock on her finger.

"Sure, tomorrow morning we'll stop by so she can..."

"We have to stop by tonight."

"I thought we'd go back to my place, I have a bottle of champagne chilling..."

"After we stop and see Amy."

The waiter came by and Lynn asked if we could have the check. No dessert and coffee. I drove us back to their house, Lynn's head on my shoulder. It would have been so wonderful but for one little flaw, and that flaw made all the difference. I drove with my mind a blank slate. It's a miracle I didn't drive off the Smithfield Street Bridge.

Lynn showed Amy the ring. They both were in tears. I hugged Amy in a brotherly way, then filled my arms with Lynn and held her close. And it almost seemed all right. We try, in our lives, to bring some happiness to others. I had, somehow or other, made these two women happy. Maybe it would have been better for them to each meet a guy of their own, but that's not what they wanted. I couldn't fathom why that was, but if that's what they wanted, who was I to say it was wrong?

Lynn pulled the ring off and gave it to Amy to try on. "It fits," she giggled, admiring the fiery stone in the lamplight. Amy handed it back and winked at me. "Don't worry, I wasn't going to keep it."

"Better not, I can't afford two of those."

"Oh, if you had to, you'd manage." They both laughed. I managed a smile.

*****

I'm a history buff, and I've read scores of books about World War II. It always astounded me that the German people managed to ignore the Holocaust raging all around them. One day you're saying good morning to your next-door neighbors, the next day the Gestapo is arresting them and taking them to a camp. And you say nothing. You act like neighbors disappearing every day is perfectly normal. I thought that was unconscionable, no one could behave that way and call themselves a decent human being.

I believed that until after Lynn and I became engaged. And then I understood how easy it is to pretend that the horrible reality around you doesn't exist. I of course don't equate my ludicrous situation with the tragedy of the Holocaust. I don't mean to excuse Germany for what happened during that terrible time. But I now understand the cowardice one feels when confronted by a terrible truth, how comforting is that feeling of inertia when taking action to correct the situation means certain doom. I don't feel so smug and superior anymore.

We set a wedding date, June 17th. I no longer tried to guess if they were trading places. I threw the notebook in the trash. My fiancée's name was Lynn, her sister's name was Amy. Over the months the girls decided to let their hair return to it's natural dark blonde, and I was never able to detect any differences in shading as the dyed strands were replaced with hair their natural color. Not that I wasted much time trying. I trained my mind to ignore everything else. Now I worried about invitations and hotel reservations and disc jockeys. It was enough to worry about.

At last the big day arrived, a clear, cool June afternoon. It was a small wedding, of course, since Lynn and Amy had no family but each other. Lynn invited her students to the ceremony, and my family was there, and our friends, so the church felt full of life. I wouldn't have cared if the pews stood empty. I only had eyes for Lynn, eyes that filled with tears the moment she entered the church. She walked down the aisle by herself, holding a bouquet of white roses, her wedding gown simple and absolutely stunning. Amy was the only bridesmaid, Rick stood as my best man. When I took Lynn's hand and we turned to face the priest, I was shaking so bad I could hear people murmuring behind me. "Breathe, Mike," Father Phil said, and everyone burst out laughing.

Somehow I made it through the ceremony. I said my vows in a clear, strong voice, we exchanged rings, and then it was time to kiss my wife. We hadn't said a word to each other for the whole ceremony, but when I looked into her eyes I felt an almost transcendent euphoria, like I might sprout wings and just fly off into Heaven. Maybe that's how the first few seconds of a fatal stroke feel, when your dying brain gives you just one last jolt of life before the book closes for good.

"Hello, my wife." I said.

"Hello, my husband." We kissed, a long, dramatic kiss with a bit of a dip at the end. We walked out to applause and popping flashbulbs. We were married, at last.

The reception was just what I hoped it would be-a great party. The food was great, the drinks flowed, everyone danced. I was too busy to keep a careful watch, but it seemed like Amy had a ball too. I was worried about her just as I'd worry about any single girl whose sister was Princess for a Day. But Amy looked fine. She actually spent much of her time on the dance floor with my Great-Uncle Fred, who was 86 but still cut a serious rug. Amy was absolutely stunning in a pale green dress that, with her blonde hair piled up high, made her look glamorous and dramatic.

"Maybe you picked the wrong one," said Rick, standing at my elbow.

"Nah."

"You're the luckiest of men. You've married well, and you have great friends. Well, one great friend, anyway." He clapped me on the back. I so wanted to tell my best friend how luck is a double-edged sword, but of course I couldn't. It was far too late for confession to do any good.

I said, "Find a nice girl of your own. Fall in love. Marry her."

He said, "Well, now that you mention it, your cousin Kelly is rather a pretty girl. I don't know a girl like that could share DNA with you, but accidents will happen. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to dazzle her with my wit and charm." And off he went.

"Ask me to dance?" a beloved voice said behind me. I turned to take my bride in my arms. But it wasn't my bride. It was her sister.

I swallowed, took a deep breath, and held out my hand. "Let's boogie."

Of course a slow song started right then, and I held Amy in a brotherly way and steered her in a tight clockwise circle, both of us walking on eggshells.

"Was today everything you wanted?" she asked.

"Even better."

We turned once in silence. Then she said, "I know how happy you've made her. That's all I ask of you, that you make her happy."

"I will. I promise."

She looked up at me, and those huge blue eyes swam with tears. "Hey, hey," I said, afraid to say anything else.

She shook her head. "I'm OK." We did a half turn when she said, "It's just, I feel like I'm losing her, I'm losing the only family I have."

"No, no, you're not," I reassured her. "You're as much a part of my family now as Lynn is." I winced a bit when I said this but she didn't react and I kept on going, "I couldn't imagine you not being a part of our lives. You mean too much to Lynn. And," I went for broke, pushed in all my chips, "you mean too much to me."

The song ended. The goddam chicken dance started up. Amy stepped out of my embrace, and her eyes were dry. She kissed me on the cheek. "Go find your wife." She left me with a smile on her lips.

I spent the rest of the night glued to Lynn. When we finally escaped to our suite I was exhausted physically and my emotions drained dry. I wish I could say that the consummation of our marriage was an event that scaled the heights of passion, but when I didn't come after ten minutes Lynn giggled and said, "It happens to guys all the time."

"Not this guy, and not on his wedding night." I forced myself to greater effort, Lynn's giggles faded into tiny gasping moans as we quietly made love. I closed my eyes and pictured Amy in her pale green dress, imagined that it was Amy lying beneath me, and that was all it took.

"That was good," I whispered.

"The perfect end to a perfect day." We kissed for a minute or so, and then Lynn got up to wash her face before bed. I was asleep before she came back.

Our alarm was set for 6AM, so we would have plenty of time to get to the airport before our 9AM flight to Puerto Rico. When I woke up it was just past four. I woke up because the was a noise in the room loud enough to rouse me. The noise was a sharp metallic "click".

"Hmmph?" I mumbled, sitting up.

Lynn's voice came from the foot of the bed, "Shh, it's just me." She walked around the bed and crawled under the covers. "I needed a glass of water." She lay down and spooned against my back. I let my head rest against the pillow. Our suite was on the top floor of the hotel. I listened hard, and I heard a tiny "ding!" come from the hallway. The elevator. Who would be up and about at four in the morning?

It was Amy. That was the click I heard, the door closing as they traded places. The woman I'd married in front of God and family was down one flight, sleeping the rest of the night alone, while her sister shared our marriage bed. One twin got the wedding day, one got the honeymoon.

My head felt heavy, and I put the pillow to work. In ten seconds I was snoring, sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

*****

Maybe you've read this and thought that, perhaps, I was the twisted one, that Lynn and Amy hadn't switched back and forth and I just imagined the whole thing. Maybe I'm just some arrogant male chauvinist moron who thinks he's too much man for one girl and so convinced himself that his girlfriend's twin must want him as much as her sister. It was all in my head, that's what you might say.

I guess it was possible. Anything is possible. Maybe I was insane. I didn't think so, but maybe I had some kind of limited madness that allowed me to function normally yet still believe that I had identical twin lovers. For the first 18 months of my marriage, I tried very hard to convince myself that this was the case. I no longer tried to tell the difference between my wife and my sister-in-law, and I really didn't care. I was so happy, so giddy with love for my wife and the life we shared together, that I didn't worry about it anymore. The problem, I thought, would take care of itself if I just left it alone.

When I came home last night Amy's car was in the driveway. I parked and came inside and they were sitting next to each other on the couch, sipping tea. I said hello, and they both looked up time and they said, "Hi," at the same time. I didn't know if my wife was the girl on the left or the right, and neither asked me the usual wifely questions like, "How was your day?" They sat quiet and serene, beatific smiles on their lovely faces, both barely registering my presence. It was a bit uncomfortable, I had the feeling I was in some kind of trouble.

I said, "Uh, I'm going to go upstairs and change."

"OK," they said in unison, "make yourself comfortable." I went up to our bedroom and stripped and stood over the commode empting my nervous bladder. What was up? They didn't look pissed, per se. Just...intense. Something had happened while I was gone. But what?