Twin tides, p.12
Twin Tides, page 12
“I don’t need any space. I’m just brushing my teeth,” Aria mutters, grabbing her teal toothbrush from its place next to Caliste’s pink one.
Caliste juts out her elbow, shoving everything on the countertop into an open cream-colored tote bag on the floor. Aria flinches, watching a bottle of Chanel perfume and a jar of La Mer face cream fall with a reckless ka-thunk. Before the moment fully registers, Caliste’s already dragging the bag away, staying true to her words and clearing out. The near meekness in her movement’s almost enough to distract Aria from the differences between them. Almost.
She turns to stare at her reflection instead of dwelling on the discomfort she’s feeling, but what stares back at her is just as disconcerting. Aria looks like some crypt keeper from a horror movie. The space under her eyes is hollow and dark, the skin swollen and textured like that of overripe fruit.
“I have some undereye patches. But, like, only if you want some,” Caliste says from behind, startling Aria. Her sister stands next to her, studying Aria in the mirror as intently as Aria’s watching herself.
“Are you saying I need them?” Aria replies through a mouthful of Oral-B and toothbrush bristles.
“I mean, yeah. A little,” Caliste responds easily, a fledgling smile inching onto her face.
“Hey, don’t make me fight you.” Aria turns to elbow Caliste, but Caliste is too fast, cackling as she darts out of the bathroom. The scent of her perfume, a soft citrus, lingers. As with their mom’s plum blossom, Aria finds her sister’s scent comforting.
* * *
Officer Badiou is seated on a merlot-colored sofa and flipping through an old Town & Country magazine when Caliste and Aria finally make it to the inn’s parlor. Once he sees them, he stands abruptly and offers an uncomfortable wave.
Aria didn’t get a good look at him yesterday, mostly because she was so surprised by Caliste and the entire mess of the situation. Officer Badiou is middle-aged and stocky, with a brunette buzz cut, a square face, and a beard shaved close to his face. All the folds of his uniform are meticulously pressed, which is a little bit surprising considering his clumsy way of doing things. He seems like a man who commands authority (and Aria thinks, a man Aunt Thu would say is đẹp trai, though, to be fair, Aunt Thu tends to think all men in uniform are handsome).
“Good morning, ladies. Did you sleep well?”
“I suppose,” Caliste says, her voice drawing out that last syllable as she crosses her arms. It’s an honest but leisured answer—a sharp distinction to Officer Badiou’s cheerfulness. Caliste doesn’t seem the type to deal in habitual niceties.
The officer seems taken aback but quickly regains composure. “I apologize for disturbing you this morning, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to talk to you about the investigation today.”
“What do you mean?” Aria asks. “Isn’t the whole reason we couldn’t see her yesterday because you were going to get your facts straight?”
“Well. Yes. I was able to speak with your father, Paul,” Officer Badiou says, addressing Caliste. However, he quickly averts eye contact and fusses with the left breast pocket of his coat. Aria admires Caliste’s ability to scare grown men.
“And what did my father say?”
“He verified that you two are twins. He will be taking a red-eye flight and arriving early tomorrow morning. He asked me to wait until he arrives to take you to see your mother.”
“We’re here now. Don’t we get to see her first?” Caliste asks, her arms folded. She may be staring up at Officer Badiou, but her glare is making this man shrivel.
“I’m very sorry, to both of you. He’s next of kin and, as Xuan’s spouse, the first point of contact. We can’t go against his wishes.”
Officer Badiou’s explanation draws a sharp huff of irritation from Caliste.
“Well, do we at least get to know her official cause of death? You said she drowned?” Caliste asks.
Officer Badiou’s face tenses before he nods.
“Unfortunately, yes. Xuan drowned.” He pauses. “Take it easy, girls. I know this must be real hard for you. Your father will meet us at the station around eight a.m. tomorrow, so I’ll see you then.”
Caliste sighs. “Thanks for the update. Good luck with the investigation, or whatever.”
When he leaves, Caliste turns to Aria.
“Are you okay? You sounded kind of stressed.”
“I…” Aria considers lying. Just then, she receives a text from Tyler—an invitation. The drownings…Their mom. Could it all be related to Tyler’s camp stories?
“I have an idea of how to kill time today,” Aria says finally. She takes both Caliste’s hands in hers and does her best impression of her sister.
“What?”
“We’re going to put on cute outfits and go to a party.”
It is a pretty absurd statement, all things considered, and Aria half expects Caliste to reject her at first.
“Okay,” Caliste says. A bewildered expression on her face says she has no idea what’s going on. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation of the past few nights, but Aria laughs. Soon Caliste joins in. The sound is odd. Is this what Aria sounds like to others?
And despite everything…Aria can’t help but believe she’s found a treasure on this cursed trip to the place where their mother died.
Chapter Eleven
Caliste
Not one single fiber in Caliste’s body expected the present scenario. She sits, legs crossed, on a wooden pier overlooking an expansive lake. A few feet away, standing in dirt, is a cluster of teens she met exactly thirty minutes ago. They are crowded around a firepit, attempting in vain to keep a flame alive. It’s afternoon, and while the sun is well on its way to the other side of the world, it’s hidden behind a dense overhang of gray clouds. Caliste breathes out, the cold air condensing in a weak cloud in front of her. Apparently, the temperature is warmer than usual and it’s “good weather” for a party. Caliste finds it hard to agree as she nestles her chilled fingers between her thighs.
Aria sits next to her, close enough for her breath to snake through the air and join Caliste’s. After returning to their room at the inn and getting ready, Aria explained that her extroverted driver sent an invitation to hang out by Lake Agatha. This boy—Tyler—had spoken to Aria of death and drama, which, naturally, spiked Caliste’s curiosity.
The Aria in the current moment is a new version from the one Caliste met yesterday. Her shoulder-length hair is curled (Caliste’s doing) and now falls in gentle waves to her chin. In contrast to Caliste’s cinnamon-red balayage highlights, Aria’s hair has never been dyed, so her black hair shines with a neutral blue tint in the sun. She only accepted minimal makeup assistance from Caliste; the compromise was a silvery eye shadow and brown liner. She’s beautiful. (Is it egotistical for Caliste to think that? Probably.)
But, aside from aesthetics, this Aria is on a mission. And the mission is to pry out as much intel about the area as possible. Aria didn’t exactly provide many details, but on the car ride to Lake Agatha, she shared not being able to shake the feeling that there’s something connecting the string of drownings to their mom’s death.
Unexplained drownings. Apparent ghosts in the water. A mom who disappeared fourteen years ago miraculously shows up dead…in the hometown neither of them knew they had. Caliste may not fully understand why Aria thinks a clue is hiding in this gaggle of tipsy teenagers, but a piece—or five—is missing from this puzzle.
Caliste trains her ear to focus on the different conversations percolating around them. There’s the typical fare of budding (or newly ended) romances, test-score anxieties, and meaningless gossip.
Close by, a cluster of girls lounges, wearing sweaters and woolen coats devoid of obvious branding but crystal clear in their level of careful craftmanship. They whisper, voices low but excited, among themselves.
“Wait—you’re going with Lloyd to his father’s birthday party in Monaco? That’s huge!”
“Shh. Don’t be weird about it.”
“Still! Meeting the parents is major. Will his mom be there?”
“Oh no…” The girl speaking glances toward the still-in-progress bonfire before turning back to her friends. “Lloyd’s sister was the girl who died last summer…His mom is not into going boating anytime soon.” As if on cue, the guy Aria knows, Tyler, throws his hands up in the air as an argument between two other boys erupts near the fire. Caliste turns toward the noise, pretending she wasn’t just eavesdropping, and watches Tyler walk to where she and Aria are sitting. He’s a bit antsy, especially when addressing Aria. There’s a boy-next-door charm about him, with his head of brassy curls and goofy smile. Despite the cold, he wears sandals and a corded leather shark’s-tooth necklace as if he’s just strolled off some tropical beach.
“Are you cold? We have some extra blankets,” he says.
“We’re okay. Thanks, Tyler,” Aria says. “And thanks again for the invite. We’d be stuck with nothing to do otherwise.”
“How do you all know each other, by the way?” Caliste asks suddenly, flicking her head toward the mingling crowd.
“I know most folks,” Tyler says. “A lot are from high school. Carter…I’ve known him since we were kids. I’m surprised he’s here, though.”
Tyler points a finger at a lone figure in the group’s center. He’s kneeling and prodding the stack of smoking wood in the firepit with a metal poker, his back facing Caliste and Aria. Despite being surrounded by people, he seems to be on his own. Caliste can relate, honestly.
“Why are you surprised?”
“Well…he was working at Camp Griffon last summer when Riley drowned. I feel a little bad that I invited him…but now that the camp is on hiatus, the campground is a great location for lake activities. Although…there’re stories of a ghost haunting the water.”
Caliste continues to stare at the black wool–clothed back turned toward them. It occurs to her, after seeing Tyler’s expression, that Carter is dressed like he’s attending a funeral and not a lakeside bonfire. From the conversation those girls were having, Riley is the dead girl mentioned. It’s no wonder those girls were sneaking glances at Carter.
“I know hanging out in the cold isn’t the most exciting excursion…but do you want some hot chocolate?” Tyler’s babbling, each word rushing out. When he finishes speaking, he jogs over to a duffel bag nestled at the base of a young oak tree and rummages through it.
Caliste takes the opportunity to scoot closer and nudge Aria, glancing at Carter and the gaggle attempting to light the fire.
“Wanna make a bet? Will they figure out how to light the damn thing before we freeze to death?” Caliste asks.
“We won’t freeze to death.”
“It’s a joke—though probably in poor taste, with the counselor and all,” Caliste replies, sticking out her tongue. “So, what’s the plan? We are out in the middle of nowhere with strangers…why, again?”
Aria glares, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “We’re here to hang out and maybe learn some things.”
“What kind of things?”
Aria is pensive, pressing her lips together until a thin line forms. In that moment, Tyler returns with two Styrofoam cups and a cherry-red thermos covered in a variety of stickers.
“Here you go! I hope it’s good. It might be bad.”
“Fantastic,” Caliste says, hiding the sarcasm behind a smile as she accepts a cup. “You drink it first.” Her father taught her to be suspicious of everyone.
“You can’t mess up hot chocolate,” Aria says, clearly trying to butter Tyler up.
A sudden bout of whoops erupts, and there’s a bright flare of orange in the periphery of Caliste’s vision. A charred scent tinges the air, and she blinks away the sting of blowing smoke. When she looks up, Carter is walking away from the fire. Their eyes meet. His are large, dark brown, and framed by an envious fan of black lashes. Caliste’s only a little jealous. After a second, he shifts away, muttering under his breath.
“Hey,” Aria says, tapping Caliste on the top of her head.
Caliste snaps her head back and realizes Tyler is standing much closer to them now.
“Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What’s up?”
“The police officer, what was his name?” Aria asks. She raises her eyebrows slightly, signaling to Caliste to ignore the fact that she’s putting on an act.
“Gordon Badiou. A French name for a French-sounding town. Why do you all pronounce it so weird, by the way?” Caliste says, turning to the enamored Tyler. He hasn’t looked away from Aria.
“To be honest, I couldn’t tell you. It’s always been Lay Sooz to me. I’m sure one of our ancestors butchered it forever ago.”
Caliste frowns at the our. Because as far as she knows, her ancestors were in Vietnam, having quite a different experience with learning French.
“I mean…my ancestors…” Tyler quickly corrects himself. “Anyway, Officer Badiou’s been at the precinct for a while. Hey, Carter—Badiou is the one who investigated Riley’s death, right?”
“Yeah. They called it off almost immediately because of the storm, though. It was supposedly a tragic drowning. They didn’t find her body,” Carter says, approaching their cluster. A red plastic cup has materialized in his hand. He swirls it before taking a long sip and pointedly avoids Caliste’s eye. He’s tall, nearly a head taller than Tyler. He has a square jawline, brown skin with red undertones that’s dappled with freckles, and thick, intense eyebrows that make it seem like he’s on the verge of having a very serious talk. If it weren’t for present circumstances, Caliste might consider him the best candidate for a little winter romance. Unsurprisingly, with the visit to see her mother looming, she’s zero percent in the mood to canoodle.
“You say ‘supposedly’ like you don’t believe it,” Caliste says. She makes a point to not take her eyes off Carter, and he coughs in response.
“She was a good swimmer. It’s confusing, is all.”
Carter speaks in a monotone, as if narrating. For a moment, Caliste imagines what it must’ve been like for him, waking up to the news that another counselor was dead.
“Where did she drown? This is a huge lake,” Caliste asks. Aria elbows her hard in reprimand, even though she’s the one who brought them here to be nosy.
“I can show you, if you want, Caliste,” Carter says. This time, he doesn’t look away from her. Hearing her name from his lips is a little startling. Aria must’ve told Tyler, and he must’ve told Carter.
She’s taken aback by his offer and searches his face for a sign that he’s mocking her. Caliste knows the question she asked was supremely bitchy. She doesn’t even know why she asked it in the first place. She supposes she didn’t expect him to take her bait.
“I’m mostly here to pay my respects, anyway,” Carter continues, gesturing at his outfit. Caliste would normally think he’s messing with her, but there’s a softness in his expression that she wants to trust.
“Take me away,” Caliste says, though she half regrets it. She lifts her hand and offers it to Carter. He smiles and pulls her upward.
Once upright, Carter offers his cup with his other hand. She’s watched him nurse it with no adverse effects, so Caliste accepts it without a thought. She downs the remaining liquid (pure brandy, gross) and peers down at Aria, her pulse quickening at the thought of both of them being alone with these guys. Aria mouths Go ahead to Caliste, and she suppresses the rising anxiety in her chest.
She’s being irrational. There’s no such thing as ghosts. She thinks about Beverly’s uncle.
There are more monsters in LA than in this sleepy town.
* * *
There is something abandoned and beautiful about the area around Lake Agatha. The path Carter takes Caliste down winds along a rocky shoreline where murky green water sloshes upward, coating the stones like a painter creating shadow. It’s certainly not walkable close to the water’s edge, and Caliste almost appreciates the lake keeping them at a distance. A dense line of conifer trees encloses this shore of the lake. Caliste can hear her own breathing, distilled only by the sound of winter birds chirping above them.
Caliste slips on a loose stone on the walking path and soon feels a firm arm around her waist.
“Careful,” Carter says. He makes sure she’s steady on her feet again before letting go.
Caliste clears her throat. “So, were you born and raised here?” she asks, her hands folded behind her.
“More or less. I’m from Minneapolis. I only came down here for camp when I was a kid, and I started working there a few summers ago. I also have…extended family here,” Carter answers in the same monotone, preventing Caliste from figuring out how he truly feels.
“I imagine running around with friends and enjoying the summer sun was fun.” Caliste falls in step next to him. She knows trusting a stranger isn’t the smartest thing to do, but she gets the sense he’s using her as an excuse to get away from his friends and Tyler’s exuberant energy, not to murder her.
“Not really my scene. I prefer enjoying nature by myself, and in the shade.”
“I can tell. You’re dressed like a vampire.”
For the first time, Carter cracks a smile. His demeanor is a bit cold, but Caliste is 99 percent sure he’s shy. It’s a little bit endearing.
“You said you’re here to pay your respects?”
“In a way…It’s silly, I know. I didn’t want to come here alone.”
“So you came here with a bunch of drunk people?”
Carter laughs at Caliste’s question.
“…I get it,” Caliste says.
Carter points ahead. “We’re almost there…”
