SPOTLIGHT Read online

  She recognized her own gangly frame first. She realized she was the girl on the left side of the picture, standing a little bit apart from the other two. In the photo she was smiling but only that half grin kids did at the behest of adults. She seemed to be tugging on the elastic of her party hat, looking away from the person taking the photo.

  Angelica was beside her and looking nearly identical but her full missing-tooth grin was real. They were even dressed alike as their mother insisted they be until the age of ten. But Angie's individuality shined through as she charmed the camera and simultaneously grabbed the hand of the little boy next to her.

  He was a little pudgy thing, shorter than them both with big thick glasses too large for his round, freckled face. His blonde hair fell shaggy over his ears and the rims of his glasses. He didn't look at the camera but at Angelica beside him, and his sweet smile was the biggest and most genuine of them all.

  Billy. That had been his name, Abby suddenly remembered. He had lived down the street from them in South Meadow for a few years, a playmate of Angie's more than hers. Abby only remembered him as being sweet but shy, and she had never paid him any more attention than that. The house behind them in the photo was a different color than she thought it ought to be, and she had no memory of the picture being taken or the party they were at. So why had it shown up now?

  “You're lucky,” William said behind her and Abby nearly jumped like she'd been caught at something she shouldn't be doing. “It's laundry day so you got the very last clean towel. Also I found you an old t-shirt of mine if you want to get out of those wet things.”

  Abby looked up at him, just as he tossed the towel to her. She didn't move to catch it, she couldn't move at all. The towel landed on the floor in a pool at her feet and suddenly she knew.

  “We used to play catch,” she said, her voice weak. “In your backyard. You tried to teach me how to throw and I was terrible at it. Angie was better.”

  William looked at her strangely for a moment and for a mere second she thought she had it all wrong. But then he nodded slightly and his unruly hair fell in his eyes and she knew for certain.

  Abby looked down at the photo that she clutched that in her hands so hard she was bending it. She wished the boy in the picture was turned around so she could see his pretty blue eyes but he was forever frozen sideways, gazing at her sister.

  “You're Billy Harrow,” Abby said, looking up at William, the boy grown into the man.

  “I am,” he said.

  Chapter Eleven

  In the distance Abby could hear the microwave sounding, its insistent beeps alerting them that the popcorn was done. But eating was the last thing on her mind. The night was ruined and they both knew it. Everything was ruined.

  “You lied to me,” Abby said. Her mind was whirling with a million questions and accusations, words of betrayal and disbelief, but that was the first thing that came to mind. She had trusted him and he had lied.

  “Abby, please listen, that wasn't my intent,” William said, his expression pleading. He took a step forward and she took a step back. He looked hurt at that.

  “Don't you at least want to hear what I have to say?” He asked, his arms outstretched to her.

  Abby nodded but didn't move. “How long?” she asked. “When did you realize that it was me?”

  “From the first day I saw you,” he admitted. “When I kept that bike from hitting you. I put your hat back on and I looked into your face. And I thought, 'Angie. She's alive. She came back to me.' That's why I left so abruptly. I was stunned. When I got back home I thought I'd dreamed it all. That I'd finally completely lost my mind. It wasn't until I got back home that I remembered that Angie had a twin.”

  Abby shook her head processing that. It was all too much.

  “Then I saw you again, in front of the apartment building though it never occurred to me that you lived here,” William continued. “But you were in your work uniform. Only the Home Sweet has those bright 1950s uniforms, so I knew from that that you worked there. I wanted to see you again. So I waited.”

  And I thought it was God's plan, Abby thought to herself. I believed we were meant to meet again, that it was fate. How naïve of me.

  “You knew my sister,” she said, because that was all she could think to say. “How well?”

  William stooped to pick up the discarded towel. He stepped forward and Abby eyed him warily as he wrapped it around her still wet shoulders.

  “I'll tell you everything. But at least sit down, please, you're shaking.”

  Abby was shaking and she couldn't tell if it was from her damp clothes or from the twisting in the pit of her stomach. She sat, as William had asked her, on the furthest end of his couch. He sat at his computer desk taking a moment to bury his face in his hands before he continued.

  “I lived in South Meadow for about six years, from ages nine to fifteen. My father was stationed overseas and my mother and I went to live with my grandmother. The picture you found shows my tenth birthday. I didn't have a lot of friends, being the new kid in town. The other boys would make fun of me. You know, the way boys do. I was at that age where I thought girls were icky. But Angie was different.”

  Abby tried to think back to the boy she had known. Angelica had always had a revolving door of friends; such was her popularity with boys and girls alike. Billy Harrow, at least from Abby's perspective, had just been another face in the crowd and a pretty ordinary one at that.

  “We got older and we became better friends, best friends,” William continued. “When I moved away, we stayed close. We'd write letters.”

  Abby nodded. She remembered Angie sometimes getting letters in the mail that she'd run off with and read in secret. It all made sense. If William had been fifteen when he moved away then the twins had been thirteen or so at the time. And that was when the trouble had started, Abby remembered, that was when they had started keeping things from each other.

  “I moved about three or four times between the ages of fifteen and eighteen. It was hard to make friends when you never lived in one place for very long. But wherever I was being shipped off to, Angie's letters followed. They kept me grounded. She kept me going,” William smiled sadly at some old memory and the expression made Abby's heart hurt.

  “Then we moved to New Jersey and just over the bridge was New York City; I had just turned eighteen and I knew that I didn't want to live anywhere else. Especially because I knew that's where Angie eventually wanted to be.”

  “It was her dream. It was the only thing she ever talked about,” Abby said, putting the pieces together.

  “We were young,” William told her, shaking his head like he was dispelling ghosts. “And we were dumb. But we were in love. We thought we'd get married. We had this idea that we didn't need money or a place to stay. We just need to believe in each other. It was all going to work out as long as we could be together again.”

  “You were what she was keeping from me,” Abby said, her voice thin and hollow.

  “Angie believed if your parent's knew they'd keep us apart. She believed we had to keep our plans secret, at least until things were settled. I was looking for an apartment for us. Then she turned sixteen and the calls and the letters stopped.”

  Abby had never seen William look so pained. His posture was defeated, his gorgeous eyes were squinting and unfocused like he was looking into the past and didn't like what he saw there. Abby wanted to cross the room. She wanted to bridge the distance between them and hold him like he had held her so many times when she needed it. But she couldn't. William was not hers anymore.

  “For a full two months I didn't know what had happened. I thought I had ruined it somehow, that I had wanted too much or that I had pushed her away. Maybe long distance had finally become too much or maybe she had met someone else and didn't want to tell me. I finally got the idea to call the town newspaper. I knew she was always singing at this or that event and getting herself in an article. It was a long shot but it was all I had. I
was her secret after all, I couldn't call her family or her twin.

  “When I called, they told me that the last article about Angelica Dawes they had run had been her obituary.”

  Abby could feel a tear course down her cheek and then another and then another until it was all too much.

  “She was happy,” she said softly, more to herself than to William. “I didn't know why but I knew she was happy. And I envied her for that like I envied her for everything else.”

  “I should have told you,” William said to her, looking stricken. “Right away, as soon as I realized who you were. But then I saw you at the restaurant and you were laughing with Noelle and smiling at the customers. You were happy. And I didn't want to ruin that. But I also wanted to get to know you.”

  “Because I have her face.” Abby suddenly stood a surge of rage coursing through her. She threw down the towel that had been around her and hurried for the door. “You only wanted to be with me, because I look like her.”

  William stood too. His legs were impossibly long, his strides faster and he caught her arm before she reached the door, pulling her towards him.

  “Let me go, William!” Abby demanded but when he did as she asked, she felt cold again, she missed his touch.

  “Abby, please listen to what I'm telling you. At first I waited for you at Home Sweet because I wanted to talk to you about Angelica, it's true. I wanted you to tell me everything about her, about before she passed so I could fill that hole she'd left in my life when she just disappeared. And yes, I was attracted to you because you reminded me of her.”

  There, Abby thought, her heart-breaking. He's finally telling the truth. And I'm alone again.

  “But then I got to know you,” William continued, his words coming in a rush, a tangled flood of feeling. “And you couldn't be Angie for me because you are nothing like her.”

  “Story of my life,” Abby bit out before she knew she was speaking. “Trapped in the shadows as she stole the spotlight, as she stole everything, as she stole--”

  Abby stopped abruptly; she couldn't dare finish that sentence. She stole the man I loved even before I ever knew I loved him.

  “You are nothing like Angie and I don't want you to be. Angelica was wild and uninhibited and she never hesitated to go after what she wanted. But I never felt safe with her, I thought she'd tire of me,” William admitted. He was staring so deeply into her eyes that Abby couldn't run away even if she wanted to. “But Abby, I trust you completely. You're thoughtful and considerate and sweet and kind. You've been through so much but you still come out smiling and you never lose your faith or your ambition. You're patient and you support others. Before I met you I never felt so comfortable with anyone in my life. I never felt comfortable with myself. But I trust you Abby Dawes. And I love you for you and you alone.”

  He loves me, Abby thought and she didn't know whether to kiss him or to scream at him. I love you too, she wanted to say.

  “You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth,” she said instead and then she turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

  Outside of his apartment the hallway seemed to sway and for a long moment Abby couldn't move. She was still wet, her uniform soaked through, but she felt hot and a fine sweat was building on her forehead.

  All she wanted to do was go back to her apartment, crawl into bed and cry but she knew William would only follow her to her door with more sweet words and explanations.

  I love you. Abby longed to hear him say it again, over and over forever. She found herself in front of the elevator, not knowing exactly when she'd make the decision to move. She stabbed at the button again. It lit up beneath her touch but the elevator did not come.

  She strained to hear the sounds of its mechanic whirring, to hear it rising up from the lower floors but all she could hear was the faint sound of classical music. It had been playing dimly through their entire sorrowful conversation, Abby realized. She began to hum to it and before she knew it her hums had become sobs. Down the hall William's door opened and the song swelled to a loud crescendo.

  “Abby,” he called to her from the doorway and his voice sounded so very tired.

  She felt tired too. She pushed the elevator button again. Nothing.

  “Abby, I just want to apologize. I said so much but I never told you how sorry I am. About everything.”

  She remembered suddenly how much he had apologized when they were first getting to know each other. Had William been apologetic even then about all the things he wasn't telling her?

  Why didn't he just tell me the truth? Why couldn't he tell me who he was from the beginning? Abby asked herself. She pressed the elevator down button again and again. If he'd told me the truth I would have run the other way, she realized. He didn't tell me about Angie for the same reason I didn't tell him about her. We both wanted to escape the past and start over.

  “And look where that got us,” she said to herself. Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

  “It doesn't work Abby,” William said wearily from the doorway. “It's broken.”

  She wasn't quite sure if he was talking about the elevator or their relationship but she decided that either statement was true.

  She decided to take the stairs, anything to get away. There needed to be distance between them so she wouldn't repeat her mistakes. The hallway seemed impossibly long though and Abby felt that she was stumbling down it. Suddenly her legs didn't work. Suddenly the world was spinning off its axis.

  Abby pushed on. She took the first step towards the narrow, dark stair well. Somewhere William was calling for her. Her name, not her twin's, and she wished she could turn around and stay with him.

  But she was falling. For a moment she thought he had scooped her up in his strong arms again like he had on the fourth of July. But she was falling and she could not rise and then there was nothing but darkness and somewhere, far, far away there was the Surprise Symphony and it was playing only for them.

  Chapter Eleven

  Abby dreamed. She dreamed of a birthday party in a backyard in South Meadow. It was warm and the air was spotted with scattered summer leaves and the wild knotted grass she had known all her life was underfoot. Angelica was at her side and she was singing. Not the loud embellished singing she did to impress adults or the outlandish singing which showed all her range that she did when she was under hot spotlights. No, her sister was singing softly, sweetly for only the three of them. She was singing happy birthday to Billy.

  Abby dreamed of sweet, blue-eyed Billy, the quiet boy from her childhood. He hid his freckled face under a fall of long blonde hair and his gorgeous gaze was masked behind thick-rimmed glasses but beneath that he was always smiling. When Angelica was done with her pretty song, Billy leaned forward and blew out the candles. He made a silent wish and Abby made one along with him. She didn’t dare speak of it out loud though. Not to anyone, especially not to her twin sister.

  “I’m going to marry him when I grow up,” Angie whispered in her ear, while Billy cut up the cake.

  Abby wasn’t sure how her sister could be so confident about something like that, but Angie was always confident about everything. If Angie wanted Billy then she would have him. She always got what she wanted and Abby always let her.

  She dreamed of a sweet old lady with the same icy blue eyes set deep in her wrinkled face. She held up an old instant camera in her withered hands.

  The three children stood in a row. Angie and Billy held hands but Abby stood alone to one side. She looked away thinking about the wish she made, thinking about the dreams she planned. She smiled knowing that even if she couldn’t have those things she would still be content in the things she did have. Billy’s grandmother snapped the camera and for a moment everything was blinded out by the flash of light.

  With a mechanical whir the camera ejected the photo. Abby watched as the picture slowly began to develop. Slowly it bloomed before her and when it was all finished, it showed Angie and Billy and herself, not as childr
en but as adults.

  In the photo Abby looked taller and stronger, her thin brown hair falling around her face, her expression still melancholic. Billy had become William, his face and frame turned lean. He was no longer a sweet little boy; he had become a handsome man. His bright blonde hair had faded nearly to brown and his freckles had all but disappeared. His arms which she loved so much were strong and muscular and his whole manner had become radiantly confident. The only thing that remained of the boy he had been was that sweet carefree smile.

  Beside him Angelica posed. Her own frame was similar to Abby’s but her demeanor was clearly far more dazzling even in freeze frame. But Abby wanted to see her face, wanted to know what her sister had grown to look like after ten long years. But Angelica’s expression was caught in a bright beam of light. There was no way of making it out, Abby realized; she would not find the answers she was looking for there. To find forgiveness, she knew, she had to look to herself.