FanStory.com - Surprised, I Guessby Wayne Fowler

“Mena? Can I get you anything at the grocery store?” Phil asked. “I’m going to pick up the milk we talked about this morning.”

“We didn’t shop very well last time did we?” Mena replied. “Would you get a package of popsicles? Not the sugar-free kind. I picked up the wrong ones last time, and they give me headaches.”

“Wouldn’t want that?” Phil teased.

Ignoring Phil’s possible follow, she told him she’d given them to the neighbor kids.

“Will do,” Phil said. “Call me if you think of anything else. See you about six?”

“We’ll probably get home about the same time. I’m finally getting caught up.”

Mena was an accountant, and the tax season drawing to an end couldn’t happen soon enough. Phil was a biochemist. His routine varied depending on the stage of various projects.

“Great! I love kissing you in the driveway in front of all the neighbors. Their jealousy feeds my ego.”

“Your ego is getting fat, buster,” Mena quipped, smiling to herself.

Arriving home a moment before Phil, Mena sat in the car in order to satisfy her own fantasy with an adoring husband that she loved with all her heart. They kissed like they’d been apart for a month of Sundays.

As Phil wrapped his arm around her for more, Mena squealed, “The popsicles!”

Phil chuckled knowing that her modesty allowed for only so much public display. “Yes, dear. Raincheck?”

Mena fairly giggled. “I think I’ll be the one collecting that raincheck. You’re the one with a kiss that belongs to me – right behind those gorgeous lips.”

“That, I do,” Phil said, following her into the house. “I mean, behind…”

Mena laughed out loud, knowing that her teasingly calling him gorgeous was a trigger – a good trigger, like the one that released a spinning top, or the one that allowed Jack to pop out of his box.

“Hmmm,” Phil said, putting away the popsicles and milk. “How hungry are you?”

Mena was starving, having worked through lunch, but raced to the bedroom shouting, “I’ll be the one looking for my beautiful naked man.” She veritably skipped to the master bathroom, barely escaping Phil’s reach.

“Thank you, darling,” Phil whispered into Mena’s neck after their interlude.

“I love you.”

“You wanna…”

“I wanna eat! I’m starving.”

“You should have said something; we could have waited.”

“And chance missing my raincheck?”

“I have more,” Phil teased back.

“And they’re all mine, too?”

“Always and always.”

Mena kissed him fiercely enough to make Phil wonder what was up.

“Leftovers all right? Or I can…”

“Leftovers are fine. I think I’ll shower and maybe splash on a little of that leftover Potion Number Nine.”

Phil's eye-twinkle was not lost on Mena. Rather than accusing him of being too greedy, Mena played back. “Maybe supper can wait a bit longer,” she said, letting her robe fall to the floor as she led him to the walk-in shower.

Hours later, supper and clean-up finished, they lay in their favorite cuddling position, both craving sleep, whispering words of love, neither anxious to separate for actual sleep.

The next morning, Phill had no sooner donned his white work jacket when a police officer approached him. “Dr. Phillip Carlton?”

Seeing the officer’s eyes, Phil turned deathly white, his blood draining from his head as shock nearly overtook him. The officer nodded grimly. “Yes sir. It was an accident on the 405. It was bad. A diesel rig jack-knifed right in front of her. There was nothing she could do. It was instant. I’m sorry.”

After a moment, Phil stammered a question asking which hospital Mena had been taken to.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Carlton. It was very bad. They took her directly to the, uh, morgue, sir.” The officer hadn’t the heart to tell him that Mena had been decapitated.

***********

Being no viewing, since Mena had been cremated, Phil arrived only moments before the service time. His parents were both deceased. He had no siblings and had no contact with his extended family. The lady who walked into the funeral home chapel looked vaguely familiar, but wearing a veil and only seeing her at an angle, he couldn’t place her. He thought it odd that a friend would wear a veil but was immediately overcome with his concerns.

Mena had many friends, from work and those from her sorority who drove from Los Angeles to San Diego. Like Phil, Mena’s mother had died. Her father was out of the picture.

Phil suffered through the condolences of the many mourners and well-wishers. He didn’t notice that the veiled lady remained seated.

“Excuse me, Phil?” the lady said as Phil walked the aisle toward the exit.

As Phil turned toward her, she raised the veil. “I’m Willie, Mena’s twin.”

Phil gasped, his mouth twitching as if he might bawl. The surprise physically shook him. “Mena?” he said in total shock.

“We’re… we were the most identical ever,” Willie said, nearly crying herself. “Wilhemina and Wilma.”

Still stammering, Phil beckoned Willie to sit, taking a pew in front of her, sitting sideways to face her, a woman as beautiful as the love of his life, Mena. Phil couldn’t say anything, not trusting himself not to break down. Not daring to touch her.

Willie’s voice near breaking, she forced herself. “We were right out of college. We thought it would be cool to marry the twins who we were dating. It was a horrible mistake. They… they thought… they wanted to know if we, Mena and I, were really alike in every way. Of course, we learned… and well, we both divorced them.

“I moved to Santa Barbara and Mena moved… Well, it was a long time before we reconnected. We’ve only recently started phoning one another. After you were married.”

Phil closed his eyes. Willie sat quietly.

“You? You remarried?”

Willie grimaced. “No, no I never met anyone who…”

Phil pinched his lips, struggling to voice his thoughts. “Look. This sounds terrible, but… but… in a few days, a few weeks… Could I call you? I’d… I’d like to get to know you.”

“You already know me. But I’d like to get to know you.”

Phil nodded as he stood. “Let me walk you to your car.” He chastened himself for wondering whether Willie ate popsicles, the sugary kind.