The Secret

Chapter 1I climbed the steps to Colleen’s apartment with some trepidation. Which was ridiculous, when you think about it. Why should I be nervous? I’ve been up and down these stairs a thousand times. Colleen and I have been best friends since junior high school. Better than best friends; more like sisters. In fact, some of the girls on our high school basketball team used to call us ‘twins from different countries’. The ‘twins’ referred to the striking physical similarities we shared (and still share). We’re the same height (5’6”), the same weight (135 pounds) and have identical slender, but curvy bodies. We’ve often swapped clothes back and forth with no difference in fit. Our facial features are also alike: our noses, the shape of our eyes and lips, even the curves of our cheeks and foreheads! Personally, I was flattered by the nickname, as I’d always thought Colleen was gorgeous. The ‘different countries’ refers to Colleen having the fair skin, blue eyes and auburn hair common to her Irish ancestry, while I possess the olive skin, brown eyes and tresses so-dark-as-to-seem-black found so often in my Spanish heritage. But, I think, more than anything, the ‘twins’ moniker referred to the closeness of our friendship. Even now, at age 23, with school and sports no longer binding us together, we spent many of our weekends and after work hours together. We were still pretty much inseparable. Which is why I was making my way to Colleen’s door. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in nearly two weeks, which is unheard of with us two motor-mouths. We’d never been apart even half so long. But, the last few times we’d gotten together, she’d acted... odd... almost aloof. I’m pretty sure I hadn’t done or said anything to cause a rift. Besides, even if I had, Colleen was no pale, delicate flower (well, okay, she actually is pale) too shy to speak her mind. If I had screwed up, she wouldn’t have hesitated to put me right. When I asked her about her reticence, she blew it off, saying there was nothing the matter, she’d just been tired. But, now it’s been nearly a fortnight since we last saw each other. She hasn’t returned my phone calls or my e-mail messages and I was getting pretty worried. So, here was the mountain, knocking on Muhammad’s door. In answer to my rapping, I heard a shuffling sound coming from Colleen’s apartment. Her muffled voice called out, “Who is it?” “Alejandra.” I responded. (I prefer my full name of Alejandra - pronounced Ahl-ay-HAHN-drah - but my friends refuse to use it, the lazy bastards). More shuffling noises came from behind her door, then Colleen’s voice again, much nearer this time and sounding a bit... strained, “Alejandra, honey... this isn’t a good time.” “Colleen? What does that mean... ‘not a good time’? You haven’t been answering your phone or your e-mail. I’ve been worried about you. And now that I’m here, you’ve got me standing out in the hall like a stranger. C’mon, sweetie, open up. I wanna talk to you.” No answer. “Colleen? You there?” “Alejandra,” she sounded really shaky now. Had she been crying? “I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch, but this is a really, really bad time. I promise I’ll call you when I’m on my feet again.” “Colleen, you’re starting to scare me.” My voice rose as I ceased being conscious of Colleen’s neighbors. “If you don’t open this door right now, I’m gonna kick the f*****g thing in!” No answer. “Colleen?” Still no answer. I raised my jeans-clad leg and was honestly ready to do my level best to either break the door down or, more likely, mortify her into opening it. But, just as I was about to let fly, I heard her unfastening the chain and turning the deadbolt. The doorknob turned and the door opened slightly. No sign of her, though. Weird. “Colleen?” No reply yet again, so I pushed the door open and went inside. Passing though her foyer, I found Colleen in her living room, sitting in her pajamas, cross-legged on the sofa. Her face was tilted down slightly and her features were hidden in shadow. Her chestnut hair was a rumpled mess. She didn’t look up at me when I came in. Outside was a bright, cloudless May afternoon. In here, though, there was no evidence of that. She had all her curtains drawn and no lamps were lit. The only light in the room came from her television. I glanced at the screen and immediately recognized the frozen image from one of our favorite Garbo movies, ‘Queen Christina’. We had watched it a zillion times, always crying at the same scenes, each scolding the other afterward for being a sap. Apparently, I had interrupted her viewing and she had paused the film at this point. The motionless ghost of Garbo seemed to peer into Colleen’s living room. On the coffee table in front her, a spoon leaned inside an empty pint container of ice cream. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I noticed dirty dishes and silverware littering seemingly every flat surface in her living room. Colleen had never been a neat freak, but this... this wasn’t right. Not by a long shot. I finally broke the silence, “You wanna tell me what the hell’s going on? Why have you been avoiding me?” “Nothing’s ‘going on’, Alejandra.” She seemed to be struggling to control her voice, “I just need some time to myself. Okay?” Was it my imagination or was she purposely keeping her face in shadow? A sudden presentiment struck me. I strode across the living room to fling open the nearest curtain.