Chapter 2 - January

I’m standing in front of the mirror, and I’m looking at Charlie.

I’m looking at her hair, the color of copper. I’m looking at her skin, and how freckled it is. I’m looking at her eyes, and they’re brown, dark, and sometimes its like there’s no color to them at all. Just darkness.

Her body is fit, and slim, and I have to make it my own. Because though this body looks like hers, well, it’s not. It’s mine.

Charlie leaves her hair down, and messy. She wears black eyeliner and dark lipsticks, and black clothes. 

I’m not as much like her as I would have thought. I like my hair in braids, I feel like make up is a hassle, and I like wearing nice button up shirts because I like to roll up the sleeves.

Anne is somewhere in the middle. She got her hair cut, it’s a little shorter. She’s shy, and quiet, in comparison at least. She’s the one Charlie who likes wearing pink and being cute. Which is probably why she made friends so fast.

“Mick, are you done in there?” 

Charlie asks, and she only sounds a little exasperated.

“Yeah,” I say, and finish buttoning up my shirt. I make sure my belt is on right, my boots are snug, and my braids are in order, then I step out.

“Thank you…” Charlie slides past me in the doorway, she’s got her phone in her back pocket playing rock music, which to me sounds like putting a cat in a microwave and shaking your head to the ensuing chaos.

I kind of liked that I didn’t like her music. I kind of liked that Anne was quiet, and Charlie was loud at times. I kind of liked that I wasn’t really either of them.

Just across from the bathroom is mine and Anne’s room. It was originally an old office that dad-

...that Jack never really used. I leaned in to see if Anne was ready. She was wearing an oversized pink hoodie, a gray skirt, and tall socks with strawberries falling into cute little brown shoes.

“Breakfast ready?” she asked, looking up from her little mirror, delicate fingers rubbing at the gloss on her lips. She didn’t wait for my answer, but snapped the mirror closed in one hand and hopped up.

We walk down the stairs, and they creak loudly. Which is why when Charlie sneaks out, she goes out her window and climbs down the old fig tree. She doesn’t do it often, but I think she does it because she needs the alone time.

What used to be a home has been hijacked. What used to be two is now four, and it feels like nowhere is safe. Not even the mirror.

I blink and wonder whose thoughts I’m thinking.

The smell of eggs and bacon, and grease fills the kitchen. It clears my mind, but my stomach rumbles with anticipation. I know that I don’t have a lot of memories, but so far breakfast has become one of my favorites.

Dad’s in the kitchen he’s…

Jack is making eggs. He’s got a small hand towel tossed over one shoulder and he’s listening to the morning radio. Something about the Mayor running for re-election. 

It cuts to commercial, and he scoops the eggs out onto a large platter, along with bacon and biscuits.

“Good morning girls,” he says, and there’s a smile on his face. He’s clean shaven, with dark brown hair that’s beginning to gray at the sideburns, and though he won’t admit it, it is also beginning to thin out in the back. 

Just a little.

“Good morning,” Anne says, taking a seat, she tries to stifle a yawn. I go over to the cabinet and grab some extra plates and forks and begin passing them around. 

The table isn’t really big enough for four, but we’ve made it work.

Two of the chairs match the table and what small amount of kitchen décor there is. The other two chairs are both different. Jack found them at a yard sale. I say small amount of décor because Charlie’s mom isn’t in the picture. She hasn’t been for a long, long time.

“Thank you, Mick,” Jack says taking one of the plates, and tossing a biscuit on it. “Is uh, Charlie coming down?” He asks sucking on his thumb because the biscuit was much hotter than he’d expected.

“Yeah,” I say, “she should be.”

No sooner did I say it than the stairs creaked. Charlie’s walking past, not looking at us.

“Hey, kiddo,” Jack calls, “you want some breakfast?”

“Not really hungry,” Charlie says. Her shoes are by the door, she slips them on, and leaves.

“More for me,” Anne says quietly. It’s an attempt at a joke, and Jack smiles at it. The plate that he had been fixing was in front of Charlie’s empty spot, so he slides it over to his own seat, and begins to load up on eggs and bacon.

Charlie doesn’t hate her dad. He just… he’s the one who brought us home. He’s the one who sees us as daughters, when Charlie doesn’t really see us as sisters.

“Well,” he says with a sigh, between bites. “How is school going?”

“I like it,” I say. “It’s good.”

“I don’t like math,” Anne mutters, perhaps more to herself, taking a big chomp out of some bacon. “Makes my brain hurt.”

Jack can’t help but smile. He probably feels guilty, like he knows that he shouldn’t. Anne’s not his daughter, but she looks a hell of a lot like her. He can’t help it though, can he? He wants to connect with his daughter, his whole world was rocked after she disappeared, and he wants nothing more than to right all the wrongs he feels ashamed of.

But Charlie won’t talk to him, won’t open up, but Anne will. I will. 

For some reason we’re different. Even though we have some semblance of Charlie’s memories we weren’t shaped by the disappearance, by whatever happened. Maybe because it was our beginning, and Charlie feels like it was an ending.

“Do ya’ll plan on going to the beach any time soon?” Jack asks, composure regained.

“I was hoping to,” I said. “Maybe after school. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he sounded a little unsure, but not enough to tell us no. “Just uh… Just be careful,” he says. 

“There have been some odd things happening around town.”

“What do you mean?” Anne asks, “what kind of weird things?”

“Boats,” he says, “there have been some going missing in the bay.” He hesitates a little on this next part. “Also… also people. There have been several people go missing in the water and they… well, they haven’t come back.”

He gives us a look. “It could be nothing.”

“Or it could be something to do with us,” I say. “Have you found any bodies, any wreckage?”

“Geez, Mick, I don’t wanna know, I’m eating,” Anne frowns.

“Yes…” Jack says, holding his coffee. Two scoops of sugar, one cream. “We have.”

He’s not willing to say more, and I know it, so I leave it alone. Time is getting away from us, and though I want to learn more, I recognize that now might not be the time. 

We finish eating and jump in the truck. An old red chevy truck, Dad’s pride and joy. 

We open the door and quickly scoop up the two semi crushed cans of soda, and the burger wrapper that fall out.

“Dibs on the window seat,” I say quickly, and Anne huffs a little, but I know she’s not mad. She climbs in first, plops down in the middle, and I jump in after.

I like the smell of the truck. It’s an old smell, like rust and oil, but mixed in with the remains of a breakfast burrito that’s been there for a week. I’m not sure if other girls like trucks or the way that they smell, but I do.

And it’s funny because I can’t help but wonder if anything that I do is weird, and the very thought that I have to even think about it just makes it worse.

I decide not to think about it too much. I prop my chin on my hand and rest my elbow on the door. I don’t want to think about it because I’m here now, and that’s really all that matters. 

January passes us by as we cruise down the road. It’s the perfect small town, the type you see in movies and TV shows. There’s a main street sided by shops and various other restaurants and businesses. A lot of them are for the tourists during the summer season. We’re nearing the end of it, but there’s still plenty of sunburned vacationers loitering about.

January sits between the white sand beaches, and the rocky incline of Saint’s Mountain. That way if you ever decide to visit you can go swimming or hiking. 

Which reminds me, speaking of the tourists, as I learn more about January, I discover there’s quite a bit of history. Most of it pretty dark. Matter of fact, I learned from Chloe at school that a couple of ghost hunting shows had been filmed here. I’ve done a little bit of swimming but haven’t done a lot of hiking yet.

We pulled up to the school, and just caught a glimpse of Charlie as she parked her bike and went inside along with the other students. I couldn’t help but notice Jack visibly let out a breath of relief, his shoulders relaxing.

“Alright girls,” he said gruffly. “Ya’ll have a good day.”

The door opened with a clank, and I hopped out, spilling a couple of cans. I stooped down to pick them up as Anne scooted across the seats and got out with a little more grace than I did.

“Bye dad,” Anne said, giving him a wave. “Love you.”

“Love you too…” Jack said, but his voice trailed off. He had realized too late. He caught me watching, and he knew that I had noticed. 

He gave me a sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes and gave me a small wave. I smiled and waved back.

As I walked into school I heard the old truck grumble away, and I couldn’t help but glance back and watch him drive away.