A flash, and she launches herself on their brightly lit bed, French windows at the ready to their left. She carries with her an open newspaper, set to stun, of socio-political context, which she straightens out for his bemusement. He gazes at her with total adoration.
What a mixed up earth, our soul group meant for a different outcome, or perhaps a reversal of fortune.
I was that girl, or I was meant to be her. Someone else took my place, the one who once watched me shine up front — seething with envy. No wonder my throat shuts down in my my most vulnerable state, leaving me to lip-sync with a broken name that speaks nothing of what I once accomplished.
I took hers, gladly at first. Sometimes, I wonder who is the victor, who the victim.
Greed overtakes her, leaving no survivors, while my frugal form counts every calorie.
I must watch our stories unfold from afar, my nose pressed to the glass, unable to warn her to stop, to hold him and the little ones before it’s too late, because now, it is.
Now, she’s stolen another family’s life, their marriage, their child, giving up her broken firstborn, while I cling to the only family I have, wishing I were two women split apart by destiny and a fool’s errand.