Twin Roses: A Beau Rivage Short Story (3 page)

“I’m going to leave,” the man announced. “If you harlots want to turn yourselves in to the police, it’s probably for the best. Make the streets a little safer.” He bent over, giving them a view of the dirty seat of his pants, and began gathering the stolen jewelry that had fallen out of the bag.

The pit bull’s ears perked up.

“What is it, girl?” Ruby whispered.

“It’s obvious you robbed this house,” Pearl said. “You’re not leaving with that stuff.”

“This is
my
house,” the man said. “I’m merely transferring my property to another location.”

“Do you always climb out your window using sheets?” Ruby asked.

“Why don’t you mind your own damn business?”
In a fit of pique, he grabbed a handful of jewelry and flung it at her. Then he went still.

Ruby turned to see what had stopped him.

A fully grown black bear—about two hundred pounds—had come around the side of the house and was lumbering toward them. The man scrambled backward, shouting,

“This is a mistake! A mistake! I wasn’t the one who got you cursed, it was these girls! I’ve been tracking them down
for you—searching for years! You see? I’ve finally found them. Here—take your revenge! Eat them! They have plump, round limbs and I’m all skin and bones. This sweater makes me look fatter than I really am!”

The man had retreated so that his back was against the front door. “I mean it!” he said as the bear came closer. “These wicked girls stole the fairy’s jewels! They blamed you for the theft! Not me! It’s not my fault you were cursed, it was theirs!”

Ruby was running her hand down the dog’s back to keep calm.

She wasn’t afraid. Not exactly.

“Our prince,” Pearl whispered.

Ruby knew how the curse was broken—but she still flinched when the bear struck the bearded man across the face and his body slumped onto the porch, the life knocked out of him with one blow.

The bear prince’s voice was deeper now. “Pearl … Ruby. Don’t be scared. You know me. I won’t hurt you.”

The bear pelt wilted around him. It split down the middle and he shook it off, then stumbled away from it, unused to walking on human legs. His skin was lighter than the bear’s fur had been, but still dark: a rich brown that was tinged gold from the clothes he wore. He was dressed in a royal court uniform of gold silk, embroidered with gold flourishes, so that he looked like a prince from a storybook.

“Is it over?” the prince asked. “Is it really—”

Ruby sat there gaping at him, her eyes filling with tears from pure amazement. Before she could answer, her sister ran to the prince and embraced him like a girl reuniting with her lost love.

“It’s over,” Pearl said. “The curse is broken. The curse is broken.…”

Their arms were wrapped around each other so tightly that Ruby felt a little confused watching them. They clung to each other as if this moment was the culmination of years of longing. Ruby wasn’t sure where that left her. She had worried and missed him just as much, but now she felt like an interloper, someone who could witness their happiness but couldn’t share it.

Was it simply that Pearl had gotten there first? And the prince had such a need for human affection that he’d poured it all into that first embrace?

Had he missed them both, or just Pearl?

By the time the prince and Pearl separated—newly shy and happy—Ruby felt like the moment had been stripped of its sparkle. But she’d looked forward to the reunion for so long that she went up to the prince anyway, hugged him quickly, tried not to smell the vanilla-cake scent Pearl had left on his clothes.

“Welcome back,” she said, afraid to show how much she had missed him, too.

“You remember me,” he said, a little astonished. “You both … remember me.”

“Of course we remember you,” Ruby said. “What other enchanted bears do you think we know?”

The pit bull had gone up to nose around the bearskin; now she was rolling on top of it, getting the scent on herself. Fortunately, she had no interest in the corpse. Pearl took a step toward the blood-smeared front door, the bearded head limp against the lintel, toes pointed upward like the Wicked Witch of the East.

The prince was turning to look at them, to take everything in with human eyes. It reminded Ruby of the time Pearl had first entered the lobby of the fancy hotel where their junior prom was held: she’d tilted her head back and turned in a circle, mouth open as if to breathe in all that beauty.

“I can’t wait to go home,” the prince said. “See my family again. I want you to meet them. Both of you.”

“We’d love to,” Pearl said. “But we can’t just leave this body here. We have to call the police. They’ll want to see our marks, to prove it wasn’t a regular killing.”

“You’re right,” the prince said. “Of course. How could I not think of that?”

“You’re allowed to be overwhelmed,” Ruby said. “I think you’ve earned it.”

“Thanks. I
am
overwhelmed.” His smile was lovely, warm and genuine. None of the posturing Ruby was used to with boys. He’d missed that part of growing up—the competitive years, when so many people developed an attitude, a too-cool-for-you coldness.

“Um, so … do you have a name?” Pearl asked. “One you’re finally willing to tell?”

“You said you were ‘just a bear.’ We had to come up with all those nicknames.”

“Theo,” the prince said. “Theo Trevathan. I didn’t want to be called that back then because … I wasn’t that person. I was something else. Something in between.”

“Theo,” Pearl repeated, trying it out.

The three of them sat on the curb while they waited for the police, Theo in the middle, the pit bull stretched out beside Ruby. Theo picked at the gold embroidery on his jacket
while Pearl described all the treats he had to try at their café, and Ruby glanced at the blood-covered door and hoped the police would arrive before the homeowners did. Every time Ruby let her gaze travel from the street to the house and back she paused on Theo’s face, memorizing another part of it: the curl of his eyelashes, the gold glow on his cheekbones, the curve of his lips. He was so busy talking, reacquainting himself with civilization, that he didn’t notice her staring. She almost wished he
would
catch her. It would mean he was looking at her, too.

A few of the neighbors appeared on their lawns, some squinting at the body on the porch, others making their way over to ask questions. Normally, Ruby didn’t mind nosy strangers—she could talk to anyone—but right now she wished they’d go away. She was worried someone would ask Theo, “So which of these girls is the lucky one?”

Because everyone knew that, traditionally, Snow White married the prince and Rose Red married the prince’s brother.

The curse didn’t always play out that way, but in the fairy tale, that was the happy ending. In real life, it was the worst consolation prize she could imagine.

“Do you have a brother?” Ruby asked Theo, once the nosy neighbors had wandered over to inspect the bearskin. She hoped he’d say no.

“I do. He’s a year older.”

“Are you a lot alike?” Pearl asked.

“Probably not anymore. He hasn’t been living as a bear for the past ten years.”

“What was it like, being a bear?” Pearl asked. “We used to play with you, but we never asked.”

“It was … lonely. Except for the two of you. I was hungry a lot. And scared. Scared that I’d be shot, that I’d never break the curse. Or that I would, but I wouldn’t know how to be human anymore.”

“You were always human,” Pearl said. “You never stopped being human.”

“When things got really bad, I used to think about the winters I spent at your house. How nice you were to me.”

“Hitting you with sticks,” Ruby said. “Rolling you over with our feet. Real nice.”

“Yeah, but you gave me Pop-Tarts. And let me watch cartoons. That was worth a few beatings.”

“Snow White, Rose Red, will you beat your lover dead?”
Pearl murmured.

“When I said that, it felt so strange. Natural, in a way … but the words weren’t mine. It was like the curse was speaking through me.”

Finally, a police car pulled up. Two officers got out, a woman and a man. Ruby recognized the woman from the café; she came in occasionally and ordered a coffee and a cranberry scone.

Ruby and Theo were already in the process of exposing their märchen marks: tugging their shirts up and their waistbands down to show the double roses imprinted on their lower backs. Pearl was wearing a dress, which made a quick reveal impossible, but the officer who knew the sisters vouched for her.

After a few more questions and an examination of the bearskin, the officers told them they were free to go.

“Enjoy your happily ever after,” the scone-loving officer called after them.

“Don’t forget to invite us to the wedding!” her partner said.

“There’s not going to be a wedding,” Ruby said. “We’re seventeen.”

“What’s the matter, you don’t like this guy?” the partner asked.

Pearl gave the soft, vacuous laugh she used whenever she was humoring someone. “We’ll send you an invitation.” Then she took Ruby and Theo by the hand and led them to the car.

“Thank you for your help!” the prince called over his shoulder.

Pearl had never seen so many tears, hugs, startled cries; Theo’s reunion with his parents was one emotional torrent after another. Pearl smiled supportively and watched her sister out of the corner of her eye. Ruby: her best friend, the girl she would give anything to, the girl she felt she was stealing from now.

Ruby had been uncharacteristically quiet since Theo had transformed, and Pearl had to admit that during those precious minutes she’d lost track of her sister and had completely forgotten she was one half of a whole. In Theo’s arms, she’d just been Pearl—not Ruby’s sister. And she had, just then, wanted something for herself.

Now she felt sick over it. Not because she regretted those feelings, but because she still had them.

She wanted Theo to love
her
. Not to love them both. And she couldn’t decide if that was normal or horrible.

After the reunion, Mr. and Mrs. Trevathan invited the sisters to stay for dinner—“We know Theo doesn’t want to
be separated from his heroes”—but Pearl declined, explaining that they needed to get back to Twin Roses. Privately, she hoped that being away from Theo would help her to get a handle on her feelings—and on Ruby’s feelings. There was so much to sort out, and she figured she’d have a better sense of whether her sister was hurt or angry once they were alone.

But on the way back to the café, Ruby talked as if nothing extraordinary had happened. She prattled on about customers, what they had to do today, how hot it was. Pearl tried to follow suit—she kept the conversation bland, easy—until they arrived at the café and went right back to work.

Rolling out marzipan and shaping tiny rose petals, feeling the familiar ache in her fingers, Pearl could almost make herself believe that no one was upset, no one was deliriously happy. Today was as simple as yesterday. Tomorrow would be the same. She wasn’t really in love—why would she be in love?—and Ruby wasn’t hurt. Listen to her out there, talking with customers and laughing! Ruby was fine; she hadn’t fallen for Theo. It had just been … intense. The reversal of the curse. The death of the thief. Theo’s return.

All those years they’d spent worrying had come to an end in seconds—it was as shocking as being in an accident. Maybe she and Ruby and Theo were still recovering. Thinking they felt one thing, but …

That night, in the bedroom the sisters shared, Pearl remembered the accidental brush of Theo’s finger against her hand as they’d sat at the curb. It was nothing—just the side of his finger—but her hand had grown warm in that spot, and she’d shivered a little and wished he’d touch her face. Not right then, but someday. He was human again—finally himself.
Rediscovering skin, and fingertips, and the back of a girl’s hand, and she wanted to be there for all of it. It felt a little like waking a boy from a sleeping curse and being the first person he saw when he opened his eyes. She wanted to extend that moment, to keep being the first. First person he touched, first person he held, first person he kissed.

Was that love or selfishness?

Was it both?

“Ruby,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

Ruby didn’t answer.

There wasn’t enough coffee in the café to perk Ruby up that morning. The night before, she’d pretended to be asleep when Pearl called her name, and eventually her sister had sighed like she’d reached the end of a particularly good romance novel, and that sigh had kept Ruby awake another two hours, at least.

Around eleven, the college students, tourists, and lonely regulars started filling the tables. Ruby played low-key music for the sake of the summer school kids studying and locals reading the paper. One table was occupied by a couple who came in a lot: Jewel, a girl with a Diamonds and Toads curse, and a blonde Goldilocks named Luxe. Jewel paused periodically to cover her mouth with a handkerchief—to catch the gems and flowers that slipped out when she spoke. Luxe was one of those people who thought
the customer is always right
was an essential truth instead of a mildly helpful suggestion. Earlier, she’d complained that the frosting on the cupcake she’d ordered was too gritty, and while Ruby was plating a new
one for her, she’d made a face at the
My cupcakes bring all the bears to the yard
poster and asked, “Why would you want bears in your yard?”

“It’s a joke. A reference to a song. Swap out ‘cupcakes’ for ‘milkshake’ and ‘bears’ for ‘boys.’ ”

“That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard.” Then Luxe said something about the replacement cupcake not having enough sprinkles on it, and Ruby handed her a whole shaker so as not to hear the inevitable
Now there are too many sprinkles!
she was sure would follow if she attempted to remedy the situation herself. Then Ruby watched as, back at her table, Luxe dropped the shaker into her purse.

Jewel eyed her girlfriend critically. “Seriously, Luxe?”

“She
gave
it to me!”

A few minutes later, the shaker was back on the counter.