In the Wings

My sister, Maggie is due on stage in ten minutes. She was born to be in the centre, under the lights. I'm more of a wings girl. I'm always there, at her side to hold her up and help her fly.

I can hear the crowd settle behind the curtain, all murmurs and movement. They've come for her.
My sister is beautiful. Honey hair, ice grey eyes, long legs and tiny feet. Her hands are slender and veiny, the skin translucent enough for men to want to look after her and women to want to learn the secrets of that captivating creature who makes no noise when she jumps and lands en pointe. I'm so lucky she got me a job as her understudy - that's the great thing about being twins. It's like I'm her spare body. How amazing is that!

By day I work behind the counter of a flower shop. I love all the romantic letters and notes from one lover to another. I get to transcribe peoples' innermost thoughts - their need to express to those souls who helped them pass the time on this earth. 'My love, I couldn't be without you, see you tonight honey bee' - that one went with red roses and was from Paul for Francesca; I figured he hadn't slept with her yet.

Sunflowers are the worst, they were a sure sign of being placed in the friend zone. I love peonies. They are my Charlie's flower of choice though he doesn't believe in giving them to me - says I'm already surrounded - he likes to show his affection by being tactile. He can't keep his hands off me. Sometimes he even takes time out from work to come and take me into the cool room with the frozen flowers and do things to me I can't mention here. I keep my eye on the customers through a crack in the door while he whispers in my ear. Usually we finish and I walk out of the chill and wrap the fresh flowers for the lunch time crowd while he cleans himself up. Last summer was perfect, the sweat, the ice, the sex, the scent of flowers and Charlie's hands on me. We were going to get married by the river that summer, but Charlie said I'm a winter bride.

I went to collect Maggie last week after her lunchtime show for our run together near the beach. She wasn't in her dressing room - but, oh, the flowers! So many! More than the shop. Roses, irises, carnations, lillies, all wilting and releasing their heady scents. Maggie must have been delayed because I sat there for ages, just looking, not even reading the cards. How many admirers she had! The problem was, Maggie just took too long and when I spotted the peonies, I thought, wow, she's lucky, they were expensive; mabye she'd finally found a man like Charlie. I picked up the card: 'baby, you are everything to me - don't worry about telling Jess, I'll break it to her and she'll want the best for us'. It was Maggie's fault she was too late to meet me and I saw the note. I messaged her and said, 'I'll meet you at the trail in an hour.' I messaged Charlie to meet me at the shop.

Maggie arrived dressed like some slinky cat in her perfect activewear. I just smiled at her and we set off. She can't help being the best runner, she just looks natural - so pretty. Her legs are a little longer than mine, so on that day it proved a bit tricky for her to navigate those high trails near the beach. I just stayed a little in front to give her space to follow me and make sure the trail near the cliff was okay. I didn't mean to take the turn that lead to the blind corner. Maggie is a competitive person, that's how she's always winning. Between us, I think she's a bit OTT, I mean, it's a light jog, but she ran around the corner, and I'd stopped and I didn't mean to trip her off the edge; I was just tying my shoelace. Her beautiful body lay like a limp spider on the rocks below, chest heaving, and then it stopped. I ran to the police for help, ready to confess. As I opened the door to the station, the officer looked up at me and smiled. 'Hey, you're Maggie Monroe - my wife saw your show last night - it would make her day to get your autograph!' I smiled and pulled my aviators down to look into his eyes. 'Of course,' I said.
So, my sister Maggie is due on stage in ten minutes. She was born for it - I'm more of a wings girl - though wings count for nothing when you're dead at the bottom of a cliff; the air ain't going to help you there. So, I guess it's my turn to fly - Maggie can be forgiven for not dancing quite as well tonight, don't you think? I mean her sister just killed herself after murdering my Charlie. Not that anyone knows that yet. He's still in the freezer, under the sunflowers