Megan Said

Molly had become someone boring; she’d wrapped herself in a cocoon of solitary shadows, separate from the world even when they moved in tandem. It happened in increments. One day she was in the middle of it–it being anything new and exciting. The next, premature departures became her signature move. She cited a sudden headache or an impending workday as her escape route.

Soon enough, the tedium of social niceties weighed down on her. That’s when she started stepping out for fresh air and just not going back inside. The phone buzzed with concern—friends and family wondering where she’d vanished. But Molly had shed the guilt, layer by layer. No longer polite, no longer accessible, no longer the life of the party. She had become a ghost, drifting through her own existence.

That’s the only reason she’d found herself sheathed in this car, her hands cramping around the steering wheel. Megan said she was boring now, and Megan said she needed to get out into the world again, and Megan said she should come to the retreat, just the girls, and re-enter the world she had shut the door on. Megan said a lot of things over the years. Things that made Molly act without thought.

Following whatever Megan wanted was a character trait etched into her bones before she could walk. It wasn’t her fault. Megan, born first, exactly thirteen minutes before, became the compass of their shared experience. Yet, the cliched and supernatural bond attributed to twins never existed for them. No secret language. No mystical thread connecting their perceptions. Only one who shined and one who stood in shade.

Now, here she was, lost beyond the reach of satellite signals, the stupid map app rendered useless in these backwoods. Molly had hoped to find a semblance of civilization by forging ahead, but that optimism had faded an hour prior. Now, retracing her steps seemed futile. The path behind had diverged shortly after the internet disappeared, and everything went wrong from there.

But Molly knew better. The true divergence happened much earlier in life. It all went wrong right about the time their egg split, cleaving them into two separate beings sharing the same face. Megan and Molly—so alike, and still so opposed.

Having two girls to dress up like dolls filled their mother with ecstasy. A rarity to add to her collection of things unloved. Her touch was ownership, her will indomitable. She’d dress them up in matching frocks and parade them through dinner parties, corporate picnics, and lunches at the country club, where they were to sit ornamentally and try not to stare too long at the other children allowed to play.

Molly once made a bid for freedom when she asked to use the bathroom and instead ran through the posh playground area with a group of girls before her mother found her. “Filthy,” she’d said, but there was only a smudge on her shoe. She’d been so careful. The ladies at the table eyed her with disdain. Later, Megan said, “I can’t believe you embarrassed us that way,” as if she were forty years old and not seven.

“Why can’t you be more like your sister?” Mom regularly asked, and Megan would smirk behind her, a small clone of the tall brunette with perfect nails and the right-length hem. It took several years of this before their mother felt there was no hope for Molly and released her into the wild, otherwise known as the cul-de-sac at the end of Maple Street and focused all of her attention on Megan and her perfection. 

It’s not as if Molly never tried. She was still trying to this day, in this car, in this endless stretch of trees. Oh my god, why is there nowhere to turn, at least? I will run out of gas at this rate! It was about another hour into her progression inside an obvious wilderness that the radio stopped picking up stations. Where could I possibly be that even the radio stops getting a signal?

It took another hour for her gas to run out. Molly pulled as far to the side as possible and let dread seep over every other sense she possessed. 

Megan said there’s no reason to panic. Everything has a solution. Molly, however, couldn’t think of a single one. There was no reason to hope someone would drive by, as she hadn’t seen another being in hours. It would be foolish to set off on foot, as there was no way to know what was up ahead—or what lurked behind the wall of trees that lined the road on both sides as far as the eye could see. 

Once, when they were ten, maybe eleven, they’d gone on a camping trip with the Sunshine Girls Troop 1180. It was exciting for Molly and, surprisingly, for Megan as well. They’d hiked in their khaki uniforms, which were terrible for hiking through woods since they protected nothing and allowed scrapes and scratches to appear on every young girl’s legs. Tabby even ended up with thorny little balls all over her socks and had a thirty-minute meltdown. Megan said it served her right for pushing her way to the front to begin with. On the bright side, at least now the rest knew where they should not step.

Later that night, they’d rested on logs and roasted marshmallows over a fire that blew all of its smoke over Molly. They’d pitched tents and pulled the food high above the ground so bears couldn’t get to it, which Megan said was stupid since there weren’t any bears in Delaware. Troop Leader Becky shot Megan a side eye and informed her that the skills they learned in Sunshine Scouts would serve them all over the world, no matter where they wandered.

Molly shivered and wondered about bears in Virginia. Were there bears ready to open her car up like a tuna can and slurp her out like a sardine? The sun was nearly gone, and the air took on a chill felt from inside the vehicle. Once her stomach grumbled, she realized hunger trumps fear every time and reached behind her for her backpack. She peered inside and counted three water bottles, two of which were half empty, and a collection of squashed granola bars, breath mints, and a stick of gum. I can’t be here for too long. This is America! Surely, this will last until someone drives by. 

Megan said she needed to drop a few pounds, anyway.

She ate in silence and counted breaths, just like her Pilates class had taught her. They were twelve when their mother insisted they take the class because Betsy had her daughter taking Pilates, and Marilyn talked about how all the celebrities were doing it. Maybe it would help Molly learn a little grace, though ballet classes failed to give her any. Ah, well, their mother loved to throw a bunch of stuff at the wall and see what might stick. Pilates absolutely did not stick.

The shadows deepened until nothing but obsidian remained. Molly sat alone in the woods in a car in a state she’d have not entered if Megan hadn’t said it would be good for her. If she wasn’t in this predicament, she would be on the patio advertised in the pamphlet for the Moondancer Resort, enjoying a glass of wine and expressing delight at each round of tapas. Had she simply declined and chosen to stay home, she could have lounged on her couch like a Molly Burrito, enjoying a ridiculous rom-com marathon all weekend. And perhaps, had she emerged first, she might have grasped that aura of confidence, that special something Megan claimed first, before she could even reach for it.

Molly was uneasy. No one was around to judge her lack of bravery. She could let panic truly take hold if she wanted to, and so she did. These were the Appalachians, and she fell down a rabbit hole of cryptozoology years ago, which assured her no one should be alone in Appalachia, especially at night. Megan said only crazy people believe in mythical creatures. Molly laughed and feigned agreement, but that never stopped her from being afraid of the dark. 

She’d worked herself into a frenzy when the headlights appeared. At first, they looked like mere specks in the night. She had herself convinced that the high beams were fireflies. The lights grew larger by the second until a rusty pickup truck lumbered to a halt beside her. Its windows, caked with layers of dried mud, obscured any view from the outside. 

Several moments passed before the dirty window descended slowly, stopping midpoint, revealing a dingy red ball cap, a deeply lined brow, and dark eyes trained on her face. She hesitated at the intensity of the gaze before lowering her own window a little more than a crack. His eyes squinted at the obvious sign of distrust.

“Sorry, little lady. This is as far as it goes. Whatcha doing all the way out here?”

“Uh, I got lost and then ran out of gas. Am I close to any towns?”

“Nope!” His voice was neutral and unbothered. “But we can get you to Bluebell, which ain’t too far as long as you ain’t walking. You want a ride?”

When they were eight, a man approached the girls. He claimed he needed help in finding his lost dog. Molly advanced closer to the stranger, but her sister grabbed her hand and dragged her reluctantly across the field until they were safely near a soccer game. Megan said the man gave her the heebie jeebies, and he could find his own dog. If she were there in the car with Molly, she’d say to wait and lock the doors. To smile politely and insist “It’s okay, no thank you,” and “Have a pleasant night.” She’d tell her to reach into her bag and pull out the bear spray she carried just in case.

But Megan wasn’t there, and Molly saw a chance to get out of these woods that may or may not contain bears–or worse. The truck idling was the only sign of life in hours. So, she rolled up her window quickly and gathered her bag and phone. Her heart pounded as she stepped out of the car and faced the truck. 

As he ambled out, the red ball cap came into full view, its brim unnecessary in the pitch. With a casual gesture, he held the door wide, revealing the cramped interior of the truck. “This is Darlene,” he announced, his voice gruff and matter of fact. “You’re gonna have to really squeeze in there.” The truck’s cabin was a tight fit, and she found herself wedged securely between them as they maneuvered the vehicle around. The air inside was thick with the scent of beer and something sour. 

Molly didn’t know how lonely her car looked in the wake of the taillights, but Darlene watched it disappear in the mirror that clung to her door. It took another three weeks before anyone else caught sight of that car. She'd been just a half-hour drive from a little town with roughly three hundred people. When the sheriff pulled up to the ramshackle house at the end of a mile long dirt road, a man in a red baseball cap assured the officer that there had been no sightings of a young woman in the area, and it was unlikely there would be, given the road’s infrequent use. Darlene stood on the rickety porch and watched the dust kick up behind the official's car.

 At five o'clock, the reporter faced the camera with Megan by her side, her voice tinged with both concern and exasperation. She confided that she'd have reported her sister missing sooner, but how could she have known? For once, her light was dim. She was almost finished stuttering excuses for not noticing her sister had disappeared as if she’d never existed; her eyes stared straight into the lens and petitioned her case. Megan said it was normal for Molly to slip away without notice and never return.