The Nicoles

I’ll never forget the first time Bella and I witnessed my Mother’s insanity. I don’t think it was the first time for my Dad, Maceo Nicoles, because when it happened, he handled it as if he knew what was happening. It was our 13th Thanksgiving Day and we had just moved to Virginia. My father had retired from the Army and bought 2 acres of land. Our new home was a small cabin on the border of Suffolk and Windsor in the neck of the woods, a small and cozy place to call home. We both loved it; we loved the settlement and not having to keep moving around. Back then the cabin was a natural 2 bedroom, 2 full baths, an average sized kitchen, living area, and dining area. It wasn’t much, but it was home, and still is.

The air glistened with fog forcing the afternoon’s bright sky into slight darkness. My sister Bella and I were playing outside, sticking our tongues out as if we could taste the fog, running about, playing hide and seek where there weren’t too many hiding places other than woods, in which we couldn’t go as far. Our matching polka dot rain boots splashing through the damped grass as we ran round the cabin trying not to be caught by one another. Since we’re identical twins, my parents would buy us matching outfits but in separate colors so they could tell us apart. At times, I would pretend to be Bella and she would pretend to be me, a tricky game of confusion we played on others and our parents. My mother, Jihadi Nicoles, would mix us up all the time and when we’d tell her which one we were, she would let out this beautiful laugh that my Dad had always admired. She’d hold one hand over her mouth and the other on her stomach and this high pitched sound would explode from the depths of her gut, then she’d gasp for air as her body would rock forward then backwards along with her long bushy curly brown hair.

Joining her in laughter, my Dad would stop to admire her. His eyes would focus on her and then us like we were the best things in the world, his angels. The woman and the girls who had his heart. I’d watch the sparkle in both their eyes; my Dad would move closer taking my Mom by the hand and pulling her into him with such a powerful embrace that Bella and I felt the need to hug each other. The connection between the two could cause anyone from anywhere to feel the heat like fireworks on the fourth of July coming from both my mother and father. Their love was impeccable and together they were perfect.

“I love you, JiJi,” my Father would tell her as he took her into him.

“And I love you my Macey,” she would tell him back as their lips would lock, and in the background two little girls giggle saying,

“Ewe, Mommy has cooties,” as we’d run through the house with giggles and laughs.

I come to think of the good times, which seemed so long ago, like a dream or another life time and despite everything that has happened, my memories always seem to take me back to that Thanksgiving Day.

The fog gripped the sky, blinding my vision of the outside surroundings. The grass was damped and although I couldn’t see them, I could hear the birds chirping and shuffling through the trees as we ran through the yard. Our rain boots stomped in the damp grass and bits of dead leaves that were left behind during the shedding of fall. I heard Dad’s voice yelling out for us to come in and unpack, as we should have been doing. We made our way up the creaky wooden stairs past my Dad as if he wasn’t there, past the living room where Mom was unpacking, and down the hall into our rooms. The cabin smelled of wood and candles from my mother’s candle collection. It was cozy, especially when walking bare foot across the floors. Coming into the spring air, it made the cozy floors feel calming, cool, and acceptable.

My sister and I could never get to what we were told to do because we were always busy playing around like all children do. We picked up the walkie-talkies pretending to be Army soldiers fighting in a war. We dodged fake bullets, ducked, and rolled under and on top of our beds as we made shooting sounds with our thumbs being the imaginary guns.

“Come in Lieutenant Nicoles we have the target,” I’d yell through the walkie-talkie as I’d tuck myself under the bed watching Bella do the same across the hall inside her room.

“Watch out Nicoles, one of the targets is behind the tree!” Bella would point and yell while aiming her imaginary rifle at the wall pretending it’s a tree.

POW, POW, I’d yell while turning around to face the invisible villain. “I got him, Bella. “Target down, copy lieutenant Nicoles, target is down!”

“No, Mecca, you’re supposed to call me Nicoles 2. Remember Daddy said they go by last names, play the game right!” Bella would rave at me in her normal bossy attitude. Bella was always the one who has to be in control, never wanting anyone else to override her or to mess her plans up. Me, on the other hand, I’d just go with the flow. I didn’t care who was in control as long as it didn’t ruin anything that I had going on. I’d always let Bella have her way, that’s how she is and I accepted her. She’s my sister, twin sister, and I love her the way she is.

“Alright, alright, Nicoles number 2 target down!” I’d say while laughing as Bella stared on, her annoyed and angry gaze as if she wanted to punch me, but instead, she broke out in a laugh as well. A loud crash made the wooden floor shake and we jumped to our feet startled. I could hear Dad pleading with Mom as Bella and I looked at each other dropping the walkie-talkies down on the floor and hurrying to the entrance of our room doors.

“JiJi baby, what are doing? Baby put the glass down. Please you’re having another episode.”

“You all are the same, are you men are all the same! You think you can torture me?” My mother would spat out at my father. The look in her eyes was cold and dark, drained of reality like those of a possessed person we watched in those demonized movies.

“Jihadi, it’s me, your husband baby, snap back to reality. Please put the glass down,” he said as she came closer to him holding a huge piece of glass from the mirror that was shattered all over the floor near the fireplace.

“Honey, you’re bleeding please put the knife down.” She swiped at him with the glass and he ducked and backed away behind the coffee table in the middle of the living room.

“You think you can do whatever you want with me, huh! I will kill you!” She shouted.

My mother was gone and somehow an intruder invaded her body and was now trying to kill my Dad.

“Go in your rooms, girls,” he’d yell to us but we were too petrified to move. Too scared that we may never see our Dad again. Too scared that we may never get our mother back.

“You trying to take my girls? You trying to touch my girls you son of a bitch!” She jabbed at him once more and again he ducked and backed away.

“Jihadi,” tears now rolling down my father’s eyes, “Baby it’s me, Maceo baby, please come back to me. I’m not your step father, baby. I’m your husband, he can’t hurt you anymore JiJi. Baby just please, please.” His face was not of terror, but of hurt and pain, sadness. Finally, my mother let up and came back to reality. Her eyes were soulful again and she felt the pain of the glass in her hand as she looked down in confusion and in fear, she dropped the glass and cried out. My father moved in close and grabbed her and they both cried, along with Bella and me.

It was the scariest moment of our lives, but not the last. By then, Bella and I were holding each other, trembling like the little girls we were. My mother watched the blood flow from her hand. A long cut ran across her palm. My father kissed all over her and I remembered hearing him repeat over and over, “Don’t ever leave me again JiJi, you’re always safe with me baby. Please don’t ever scare me like that again.” With the tears that streamed down both my parents faces, it caused a river to flow through the house. It was a sad moment.

A sad memory was long ago, fourteen years ago to be exact, and still I wake up drenched in sweat with my heart feeling as if it could jump straight out of my chest. Despite my mother’s condition, she was the sweetest women I had ever known. She gave with her heart and taught with a strong mind. A very skillful woman, my mother and father as well. Both loved to work with their hands and build things. I remembered when we were five and we lived in Colorado and my Dad and Mom started working on this blue print to rebuild a Datsun car. When my Mother, Bella, and I came home, my father had an old beat up Datsun waiting in the garage. My mother got so excited and they began to work on it a week after all the car parts were in. They would have Bella and I work on it with them. Teaching us to create with our minds and work with our hands. That’s the way they’ve always taught us, with every experiment and build or rebuild we did.

Four months later, the chipped brown faded paint that once covered the Datsun was replaced with a smooth glossy velvet color. The clutch moved loosely and the handle was made of smooth wood with a black top piece that had the speeds in place. A 5 speed gas saver it was. The seats were a dark brown leather interior lined with a velvet coat matching the outside paint and the steering wheel. The rear view mirrors were small round mirrors that stuck out a little too much for me. Other than that, the look was exquisite. I loved the car; I loved it even more because we built it. The Nicoles, handy and creative. We drove that car on road trips, for joy rides, and to the beach, but when my mother got ill, the joy rides stopped. The Datsun sat in the garage for what seemed like an eternity until my father passed when we were sixteen, and Bella and I decided for old time’s sakes to take it for another joy ride before we were split up and put into foster homes, for me, a group home.

Bella was always the calm one. The one everyone liked, not because she was sweet and kind, but because she was nonchalant and always a mystery to everyone. I, on the other hand, spoke whatever was on my mind, and most of the time it wasn’t pleasant thoughts, so no one really cared too much for me. They basically didn’t want to hear the truth about themselves and about the world around us. I’d get picked up and Bella would have to come to my rescue each time, unless I had a blackout and fought back. Most of it was a blur because of my blackouts, so I’m not sure what happened if I go by what “witnesses” say at the time of my blackouts, and the black eyes and bloody faces of the people of whom I had supposedly attacked which led me into the institution of mental illness in the first place… The Place of Insanity.

I shook those memories out of my mind so many times so that I could get well and move past my illness… or at least pretend to be well in order to be released from the mental institution, but I’ll take this memory over the last day I saw mother alive any day. I’ll get to that part later, for now I just want to think happy thoughts. Thoughts like, what I’m going to do when I catch the men who killed my Mom. His facial expression when he’s looking up begging me to spare his life. No, no… that just brings me back into a very bad mood. How about… when I found Bella and we were back together again. Yeah, I think that’s the memory that’ll keep me happy and sane. I’ll find my sister and go from there.