I Fake Love You

Chapter 1

Mandy

 “I can’t believe we’re experiencing our first real New York traffic jam,” I say, my eyes enchanted by the big city views outside my window. 

I’m in a taxi with my twin sister, Mindy. She, like me, is pinned to the backseat door, forehead plastered onto the window as we marvel at the daytime sights. This includes iconic buildings only seen on TV, colorful people, and yellow taxis. Between us is a pet carrier where Beatrix, our black and white ragdoll cat, is fast asleep.

“And I can’t believe we’re finally New Yorkers,” she responds with the same ‘I'm calm but I really want to scream’ voice as me.

Thirty minutes ago, we stepped off the bus from rural North Carolina, ready to start our lives in the big city. Now the cab taking us to our new one-bedroom apartment in Chelsea is stuck in traffic. 

I breathe a sigh of relief when the car finally eases forward again. 

I’m itching to see our new place and hope it looks as cute as the pictures online made it out to be. The car pulls up outside a rough-looking, red brick walk-up. The first thing I notice is the obscene graffiti painted all over it.

Then I see a boarded-up window near the ground floor.

I bite my lip. “Let’s hope this place looks better inside.”

I wrap my fingers around the pet carrier’s handle, lift it, then exit and grab a suitcase. Mindy grabs the rest of our bags from the trunk, and we go in. My heart drops when we enter. The inside is no better.

An off-putting stench of mildew floats up to greet us in the sad lobby. We haul our luggage up some creaking stairs to the fourth floor and open the door of our new home.

“It’s going to take me a year to figure out how the keys work,” I tell Mandy, fiddling with three locks, not quite knowing which key to use or which direction to turn.

“And by then we’ll be moving.” She laughs. A few minutes later, we finally open the apartment.

“How come nobody talks about the rotten part of the Big Apple?” My voice echoes from the bathroom.

“It can’t be that bad,” Mindy yells from the kitchen. I can still hear her spraying the cabinets for roaches.

“Seriously, I think we’ve been had.”

Her shoes squeak closer and closer against the wood floors. Then she is next to me in the tiny tiled bathroom with its coffin of a shower, yellowing toilet bowl, and chipped sink.

“Eww. It’s like they used tar to grout these ugly eighties-era tiles,” she says.

I lift my lip in disgust at the grimy backsplash and flooring. “Wrong decade, babe. These are peak nineties McMansion bathroom tiles. Didn’t they carpet their bathrooms in the eighties and use wallpaper?”

She giggles and I turn to smile back at my duplicate, not just in body but in spirit, too. 

We really lean into the whole twin thing and it never feels forced. She has the same sleek asymmetrical black bob as mine, both of us relaxing our natural curls for the look. The cut is short and tucked behind the ear on the right, long enough to sweep along the collarbone on the other side.

Even our style is similar. We both embrace a classic wardrobe and only buy essential pieces, no flash-in-the-pan fads.

Right now we have on matching white Breton stripe sweaters which pop off our mahogany skin really well. They are tucked into denim midi skirts and classic, stark white sneakers. 

It’s casual for us, but still a tad overdressed given the state of our new home.

“Oh, God. Are we in over our heads?” I ask.

“It's a starter home. We’ll work our way up and find a better place in no time. That's why we came here, to get the full experience.”

I nibble on my thumbnail. “I don't know about this.”

“Trust me. Also, the great thing is this will only be a place to sleep since we'll be busy with work most of the time anyway, so it doesn't have to be the Ritz. For now.”

“Easy for you to say. I don't have a job yet, remember? I have to experience more waking hours here.”

 “Don't look at it that way. It's only a matter of time. You’ll have one sooner than you can say, ‘Welcome to New York.’”

I’m not as enthusiastic as she is. Mindy landed a translating job with Legal Aid before we got here, but all my attempts have so far failed. And without a job, my dreams of art school, or even art classes at the Y, are just dreams. Everything here is more expensive.

The sound of metal clanging invades my thought process. We turn to each other, wide-eyed.

“Beatrix,” we say at the same time.

I leave the bathroom before Mindy and rush to the living room, which is piled with boxes, a few suitcases, and leftover trash from the previous tenant.

In a corner is the cat carrier. Beatrix is bumping and scratching at the cage, eager to be let out.

“Hi, baby,” I say and bend down to let her out. She walks out in a circle, stretches her body majestically, and yawns. She comes back to rub against my leg then lets out a meow, an indication of hunger.

“I’ll fix her up something,” Mindy says from behind me near the tiny open-plan kitchen whose counter space isn’t even enough for a child.

“And I’ll find the litter box.”

I run my hand over the cat’s back, then turn to rummage through the boxes.

A little while later, Beatrix is fed, her litter box is set up, and Mindy and I are on all fours, pulling our couch from the box it was shipped in.

 The bell rings from the front. I raise an eyebrow at my sister. “Did we forget something? I hope we don’t owe the landlord more money.”

“We shouldn’t. Maybe he’s taking the rats for their daily walk.” We both chuckle.

I go to the front door, look through the peephole, and see no one. Then I remember I’m not back in the country anymore. I push the call button.

“Hi! This is Mandy.”

“Hi, Mandy, this is your cousin.”

“Oh my God! Jamie! I can’t believe it. How are you?”

“I’ll tell you all about it if you can buzz me up.”

“Oh, right!” 

I press the button to open the door and hear the buzz from below a moment later.

“Thin walls,” I tell Mindy.

I open the door to greet them, and I know by the chaotic footsteps slapping up the stairs that Lainey, Jamie’s stepdaughter, is here, too.

“Princess!” I shout, picking up Lainey and her stuffed unicorn, and I kiss my cousin on the cheek.

“Jamie, it’s so good to see you. We’re not even unpacked though, so, be warned,” I tell her as I open the door to the echoey apartment, with no furniture yet.

“And who might this be?” I ask Lainey when they’ve come inside.

“Harold,” she says with big, earnest eyes. “He cries if we leave him alone for too long.”

“That’s very considerate of you to bring him along.” I pat the toy’s nose. “I think Harold will like our cat.”

“Is it a small kitty or a big one?”

“Come on in and meet her.”

“Why is this place so messy?” asks Lainey. Her head bobs around as she inspects the kitchen. 

“Because my cousins just moved and we’re here to help them settle in,” Jamie says. “You can play with the cat while we work.” 

Beatrix takes an instant liking to Lainey and Harold. I unpack a rug and roll it out in the bedroom for them to play on. 

Jamie helps Mindy and I assemble the couch and a bookshelf.

“What's poor Mandy going to do all by herself when you start work tomorrow?” Jamie asks my sister.

“Mope around and play with Bea,” I answer for my sister, only half-joking. “No, but look at this place. It could keep me occupied for weeks.”

Mindy gives me a soft look. “How many job applications have you sent out?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a hundred? That’s what it feels like at least. If you hear of anything, you’ll let me know, Jamie?” 

“Of course.”

“Can’t send her back to North Carolina with her tail between her legs,” Mindy adds.

“Oh, please, I’d offer you my couch before that happens,” Jamie says with a chuckle. “You’ll be fine. There’s so much art, too, you’ll find inspiration everywhere. So many museums to go to.”

“Yeah, but those all cost money.”

“The galleries don’t cost a thing, and they’re just around the corner. You can see what other artists are doing, maybe make some connections. You never know.”

“Jamie’s right. Who knows what could happen?” Mindy says, unpacking more things from the boxes. “Hey, found your art supplies. It’s a sign.”