Ingrid entered our lives shortly after I sent out this ad to my best friend Janis.
Convalescing author seeks not-quite-as-evil twin; must be willing to replace her in almost every aspect of daily duties. Psychic abilities are an asset. Position commences immediately.
But instead of feedback, she sent her niece, Ingrid. We chatted over espressos in my kitchen.
“So, what did Jan say to convince you to come to Vancouver?”
“An experience I’d never forget.” She blinked.
“And,” she paused, looked over her shoulder, “And she didn’t want you to jump off a bridge.” She whispered.
“Jesus! She is so goddamn literal.” I sighed, “I said I felt like I could jump off a bridge. Doesn’t everyone?” I finished my cup. “And now you’re here…Did she tell you about the kids?”
“Angus, seventeen, periodically in school; Felix, fifteen, races down mountain roads on a skateboard? Coco, eight, knows everything, and Quinn, five, is obsessed with bodies.”
I had planned to introduce all the kids at once, but thought it best to break them to her one at a time. Besides, Quinn would likely be inappropriately affectionate. I couldn’t risk introducing him first. “Maybe you can introduce yourself to Angus—he’s downstairs. He should be up by now.” I waited.
In two minutes she returned, headed to the stove and began making more coffee. “You like milk?”
“Sure… You met Angus?”
“Latte, or espresso?”
“So, you met him.”
“Bitter.” I answered.
“And the woman? She lives here too?”
“Never mind.” She cranked steam into the milk.
“Better make it a double.”
“I already have.”
And so, that’s how my psychic, not-so-evil twin came to rescue me from a certain untimely demise. She later met the other children; Quinn copped a feel as expected.