I thought I might be running out of novels I’ve written to take excerpts from, but then I remembered this one. I wrote this last year or maybe even the year before. It’s only 175 pages so I am giving you just the intro. It’s titled Connections.
The story I am about to tell is unbelievable, which is not to say it isn’t true, because it is. Everything I am about to relay really happened, you are just liable to think I’m nuts when you hear about it.
It began two years ago, shortly after the death of my twin brother, Mac. Before you jump to conclusions, and think, oh she must be crazy with grief and that’s why this story doesn’t, or won’t make sense, let me stop you right there. I loved Mac with all my heart, but that is not what this is about. We were not those twins who had to do everything together, or who knew what the other was going to say before they said it. We were fiercely independent, even if that’s not how the world wanted us to be.
From the day we were born we were considered one. My parents were not expecting twins. They were broke at the time, and instead of spending money on ultrasounds and prenatal visits to the doctor, they chose to spend what little money they had, filing for divorce. They didn’t even come up with a second name. When we were born they had only one name they could agree on, McKenzie, which they had decided would work for either a boy or a girl. Shocked by the two of us, they simply split it, naming me Kenzie and my brother, Mac.
So Mac was in New York at the time of his death, pursuing a girl of course, by the name of Jennifer Christianson. Mac always fell for unobtainable girls, and to his credit, he always won them over. Then he would tire of them and fall madly, deeply, in love with someone else. It was a pattern he’d learned from my mother who has been married six times and counting. Jennifer was the lead singer of the band Rollover, when he first became infatuated with her. She was also engaged, but that apparently hadn’t stopped either one of them from becoming involved. On that fateful night they were both drunk, and taking a walk through Central Park after Jennifer’s boyfriend had come across them kissing in a hallway. Mac climbed up on a bridge/walkway to make a point, fell, and cracked his head on the pavement below.
I knew the minute it happened. Not because of any freaky twin super connection, but because I saw Mac looking confused, standing in a crowd across from me, at a time when I knew he couldn’t possibly be in the same state as me, let alone the same room. I was ironically enough, at a concert by The Killers, in Los Angeles. Mac had called me from New York two hours earlier to ask if I was going to do anything special for my/our thirtieth birthday, because Jennifer and everyone else he knew, thought it was weird that we weren’t going to be together.
I closed my eyes, but very clearly heard him say, “Oh this is messed up!” When I reopened my eyes he was gone, so I did my best to dismiss it. The band was playing Brightside, one of my favorites. I pushed any weirdness away, reasoning that someone else had been speaking, and that the guy I had seen had obviously just been someone who looked like Mac. The rest of the concert was fantastic, and afterwards my friends and I went to The House of Pancakes to make pigs of ourselves, while debating the highlights of the show.