Two in One

By: Cassandra Volk

It seems like second nature now that my friends Amare and Clara are a part of my life. There was a point when their existence together seemed impossible, that such a cliché could never form and grow. We are just like any other group of friends; Clara, the sweet, kind soul with Amare, our little flame of passion that always finds trouble and cares little for those in her way. I suppose I am just the scribe, observing the close bond Amare and Clara have. Though in pain and fear, I see just how different they can be.

Before Amare, life was simple with only two geeks with good reputations, high grades, and a contempt for the delinquents that poisoned our school. In getting ready for college, the work was easy. I had nonchalant parents that let my fate be. Poor Clara was pressured far too much. Expected to go to the best school, obtain ridiculous standards from countless clubs and volunteer groups, her family insisted that she be important someday. However, as if it mattered to them, her foster parents didn’t really care about anything else and this lack of family led her to go crazy, struggling to be accepted. The stress was enormous but she wouldn’t allow anyone to help.

Weeks went by as nothing for her existed besides her school work for advanced classes, clubs, only joined for the prominent title, and the extensive application for one of the most difficult and selective universities in the country, Stanford. Never permitted to go out or have any fun, it was always work. She was forced to be a mindless drove under her parents’ strict laws, and dreaded the consequences. It was weeks before I heard anything at all from Clara. Our schedules were as different as the land and sea, and she had become a madly running machine with no free time to herself.

The day I finally got a call from my distant friend, her voice was different. Usually light and almost as harmonious as a flute, a bellow or crackle came oozing out of the phone. “Hey I’m at the park. Meet me here.” I asked if she was sick and a laugh bursted through the phone, a laugh that could not have belonged to Clara. “Psshh I’m more than ok, trust me. Now hurry up and just get here.” It was like eons since I saw Clara, I didn’t care how peculiar this was. I was going to see her. So I flew down to the park, perhaps lucky not to have been spotted by a cop, and there she was leaning against the railing by the fields waving like a scene from a movie.

She was wearing an ensemble that I never pictured her to achieve. A crop top with short cut-off jeans. Not the short as in just over the knee; it was quite possible she’d be mistaken for Daisy Duke herself. The biggest change was her hair, by God, it was dyed bright, cherry red! A far cry from her once reserved dirty blonde. More than color, it was falling down her shoulders, proudly displayed as a part of this beautiful young vixen. Clara had always worn a ponytail, fast and simple and not exactly eye catching.

“Well, no need to be so alarmed! You look like a poor dunce like that,” the voice was still there, not Clara’s, but by looking at the face there she was.

Shaking my head, thinking I had to be positive about the change, “Well I’m just astonished, your parents acut-”

I was cut short as the lady growled, “They’re not my parents! They’re mere guardians the courts handed me off to. I care nothing for them.” Now that was new. Never before had she been hostile about any subject. Perhaps she’d sheepishly avoid it, but such an aggressive tone never before existed. Also, she never put distance toward her foster parents in favor or her real ones, this made me concerned.

“Ok, Ok. Wow. So wait why did they let you come then?”

“They didn’t. I didn’t tell them. It’s not that shocking.” She was just so different and I couldn’t grasp it, but still I let it slide. Eventually, I let her lead me down the road, and before I could stop it, we were breaking into an indoor public pool. Under my breathe I prayed and loudly protested. All she kept saying was this was going to be fun. She went in and fooled around on the admissions desk, while I was looking at the empty showers and surveying for us not to get caught. Suddenly, she cackled again and hollered for us to go. Running past the desk I saw a paper in her hand, a swimming team list. She ran past me towards the pool and dropped the parchment into the water, watching it be soaked up and disintegrate.

“What are you doing!?” No answer as my shout had alerted a passerby on the street, eyeing us. She bolted past me and jumped on the opposite fence, climbing over the rest. Heart pounding and dazed, I just followed her. Dropping from the fence we made a sprint down the road. I went straight to my car in hopes to leave the confusion behind me, only to find my friend sitting in the passenger seat laughing hysterically.

I didn’t question it, driving in a straight line, but then I went off. “What the Hell! Really? Are you nuts!? Tell me what the whole idea of this was.” She went on to explain, her longtime boyfriend, Jake, had broken up with her and was trying out for the swim team. Since she was aid for the coach, she saw the list and knew where he kept it. Her revenge plan involved switching Jake’s name off the list.

No real harm, but entirely out of character for this girl. “Clara that’s not like you at all.” Then she looked at me bewildered, as if the name meant nothing. I glanced back at her very uneasily. What did I have here? Dr. Jeckle and Mrs. Hyde?

Again, the cackle came at this point. It was beginning to almost fit her. “I’m not Clara! Or at least the one you know. She was weak, always letting herself be pushed around. Just too nice and sweet. She don’t let me out much. Says I’ll make things worse, but look at what I did for us.”

This was too much. “Ugh enough! That’s silly. Tell the truth!”

Her only reply was “I am. You’ll see; tomorrow ask Clara about red hair. You know what? I like you. You’re not like her other friends. You don’t get pushed around.”

That was on a weekend. I tried to call her on Sunday with no reply. I couldn’t tell on her or face the idea of losing my only friend. Not to mention, I couldn’t piece together her story. I might have sounded crazy repeating it. So I kept quiet. Then came Monday. I saw the posted list of swimmers. Jake wasn’t on there. I looked for Clara, but obviously she was in all advanced classes. If I walked in, the teacher asked if I was lost. I’d reply “no,” then be escorted to the door. I caught a glimpse of her. I’d notice that her blonde hair was back with her sweet, shy demeanor. I finally cornered her at lunch.

Oddly, every question about Saturday night was answered about the same: Jake called her, broke up with her, then it gets weird. “I-I don’t remember, guess I just went to bed.” Very odd, a student like her never forgets a thing.

I thought it was insane, but had to try. “Okay, let me talk to her. The other one.” Clara became serious, understanding fully. She looked around the lunchroom and gestured me to follow her to an out of the way corridor. There she turned, body language, the whole nine yards. Instead of shy and fidgety, she stood tall and made direct eye contact with a sly grin on her face.

“I’m glad you finally get it. I’m glad I get to talk to a normal person.” I still had trouble comprehending this, but it was coming easier.

“Okay, this is weird.” My voice was shaking, as if it was begging to flee and escape the unknown. How I would have loved to lead the charge, but I needed to know. “Start with what you call yourself. Then how does this work?” She bobbed her head to show she could understand these questions.

“Very well. We decided that I’m called Amare. I’m like her heart. I’m her love and passion. If I’m betrayed, I get angry and make sure we are safe. She has the reason, I have the fuel. A tale as old as time really.” This person spoke in a sarcastic tone filled with resonance. Clara’s voice was higher and light. That would be my first distinguishing mark.

I was nodding and getting the idea, “Jake hurt you, so you push Clara out of control and took over. Why involve me?” My voice was forced to be calm and understanding.

Amare just shrugged “Well, you got a car, duh. And, well, I saw that you were the only person in her phone. The rest were colleges, those people I live with and other boring things. Honestly, I just saw that I could blame you if we got caught, with the whole Clara-didn’t-know thing.” Wow, that was unfriendly! Her attitude was careless, but seeing my hurt, Clara, she peaked through and took over. I saw her head twitch, then the clam, concerned eyes of Clara pleaded forgiveness “Ooooh yea, I’m sorry about her. I usually have her under control. She gets away from me. Please don’t let anyone know. She isn’t right. Don’t tell.”

Now that we all knew each other, all three of us. Or two? I’m still fuzzy on the specifics, but I accept it. I have two friends now, Amare and Clara. They just happen to share one body. When one is on the surface the other is safe, as far as I can figure. Their relationship is never really simple, one will show or both at once. Having an argument and bickering over what one will want versus the other’s prerogative. In person, I see just a person talking to themselves... Yelling in different voices. This occurs often when one is challenged by the other for control. Clara can win, but Amare is persistent. I ask them to see if they can be cured, but Clara responds, “I’m nothing without her,” and Amare says, “I can’t do this all on my own. I’m not smart like Clara.”