Hanging Time

77

How did you get in here?” Camille was so startled to see Milicia come through Bouck’s apartment door, she dropped the brush with a clatter.

“Baby, I can get in anywhere, you know that. I’m an architect. I know how everything works.” Milicia made a face at the puddles of soapy water. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Milicia’s Channel Thirteen bag tilted and fell over. The dog inside tumbled out and shook herself. Puppy, who hadn’t been acting right since the police station, suddenly regained her energy. She leapt out of Camille’s lap, charged through a puddle, and hurled herself at her tiny twin.

“Puppy,” Camille cried sharply. “Come back here!”

Puppy ignored the command.

“Puppy, it’s your mother calling!”

“No.” Milicia laughed. “It’s her sister calling.”

Milicia planted herself on the third stair. She took her scarf and sunglasses off, then peered through the banister bars at Camille, as if one of them were in a cage.

“Sisters are more important than mothers.” She pointed at the dogs. “Look at them.”

The two apricot fluff balls had launched into a frenzy of leaping and jumping and kissing and rolling all over each other with sharp yips of delight.

Camille was confused. Puppy had seemed so sick with precinct cancer, and now she seemed all right. “Oh, no.” Camille smacked her cheek in horror. “Oh, no, oh, no.” She’d taken Puppy’s collar off when she started splashing water everywhere. The collar had been expensive, and she hadn’t wanted to get it wet. Now Puppy was without her identification. Puppy wasn’t listening to her, and Milicia’s dog wasn’t wearing a collar. What if Puppy forgot who she was?

“What’s her name?” Camille cried frantically. “Call her, call her back—”

“Doesn’t have a name. Look how happy they are to see each other.” Milicia clapped her hands. “Isn’t it cute. That’s how sisters should be.”

“Puppy’s been sick,” Camille said angrily. “I don’t want her upset, you’ll have to go. I’m too busy. I can’t have you here.” She picked up the brush to show how busy she was, spraying soap across the wet floor. “Take your dog and go away.”

“Oh, don’t be so mean, Camille. You’re always so mean.”

“I’m not the one who’s mean.” Milicia’s sneaking in on her made Camille’s head start to pound.

She kept her eyes on the dogs, now chasing each other up and down the hall, sliding in the soapy water and falling on each other. Puppy was staggering around a little, but seemed determined to play. Go away, Milicia, she thought but could not say.

Then, as Camille studied them, she could see they weren’t the same at all, just like she and Milicia were not the same. The other dog had a tooth sticking out of its lower jaw that distorted its face just enough to make it look like it was always smiling. Puppy didn’t have that tooth at all. She’d lost the baby canine on that side, and the new one hadn’t sprouted yet. Camille knew this because one day a tooth fell out in her hand.

Camille reminded herself of the tooth so she wouldn’t think about Milicia being nice to her. All those massages, when she rubbed little Cammy’s tummy, moving her hand lower and lower, fingers wiggling between Cammy’s thighs. Like that, Cammy? Isn’t it great? Fingers slippery with Vaseline from the medicine cabinet. Back and forth, round and round with the soft, oily fingers until little Cammy was all throbbing and breathless and hot. Yes, you like it. Yes, I’ll do it again. Whenever you want.

Yes, yes, comparing the two poodles point by point, Camille noticed Milicia’s was darker around the head and ears, and Puppy’s legs were longer. Puppy was taller. Her head still hurt, but she felt better when she knew which was hers.

“You’re mean to me,” Milicia said in a pouty voice. “I try to take care of you and love you, and whatever I do you hate me. Why do you hate me so much?”

That tone of voice made Camille’s stomach queasy. Milicia’s voice was like a pretty pond with a mud-sucking bottom. All sweet and sad, with an ugly, dangerous edge. What did she want?

“You better go. Bouck’s coming back in a little while. He won’t like finding you here.” Camille pushed away the sick feeling in her stomach that kept warning her Milicia was there to be her boss again. Carefully, she scrubbed a spot on the wall she’d missed. “Can’t you see I’m cleaning for him?”

“Bouck’s not coming back.” Milicia spoke gently. “He’s dead. I’m the one who takes care of you now.”

“No, stupid.” Camille’s eyes twitched. She was furious. “You can’t trick me. He’s not dead. He’s coming back. I’m going to the hospital to pick him up in a few minutes.”

“That’s a lie. You don’t even know which hospital. And you couldn’t find it if you did. You’re the stupid one.”

Camille squeezed her eyes shut. Her head hurt. “Go away.”

Milicia sat on the stairs like a queen and poked at her through the banister bars with her finger. “Unh-unh. You’re stupid, and you’re crazy, too. All your life you caused trouble. And now this. Look at this place. You can’t keep house. You can’t even find food. You’re still little Cammy.”

Camille trembled all over but didn’t say anything. Milicia could do that to her, stop her from talking, stop her from breathing, anytime she wanted. The bad feeling in her stomach wouldn’t go away. Milicia was here to do something to her. What?

Milicia’s voice turned warm again. “You used to love me. Why do you hate me now?”

Camille shook her head. Her arms twitched.

Give me a lesson, Milicia. I promise I’ll be good.