Status Unfavorable

Content Warning: suicide, addiction, sibling loss.

I often wonder if I will ever sleep peacefully again. When the officer came knocking on my door at 1:17am two months ago he told me that ,Lauren, my twin, had overdosed in her car. My first reaction was why did I not feel it? We always felt each other. Then the pain came. Screaming into the abyss as the officer stood stoically with his hand on my shoulder. A deluge of tears streamed from my face. Lauren was the yin to my yang, my biological other half, the only thing we did not share was her addiction and her battle with recovery. I had thought recovery was successful for her this time.

Since then, time has crawled. Lauren and I both moved to Ogden, Utah to escape the influences she found herself fixed to. We lived in an apartment building, I was 14A and she was 14B. We both craved our space but did not want to be separated from each other.

Now, night after night, I find myself awaked at 1:17am, on a Reddit grief board. r/TwinLoss has become my respite. My bedroom is dark, with the exception of the glow from my phone screen. I have the brightness turned down to the lowest level. On the Reddit board, I scroll through the latest posts. Twins recounting their stories of loss: suicide, car accidents, addiction, cancer. The only prevalent theme is palpable near tangible grief. I upvote and comment where I can, where I feel like I am being helpful rather than depressed.

My inbox chimes, it is Reddit user CompassNorth. I do not know her real name, we have never shared personal details but we share our map of grief. She too, unexpectedly lost a twin, about three months ago to suicide.

CompassNorth: Hi, StillHalfHere. My brother would have been forty-four today, well yesterday now I suppose. I wonder if the anniversaries will ever get easier?

StillHalfHere: I haven’t hit any anniversaries yet, Compass. I dread that. I am sitting here in my bed alone. I have a mint candle lit. I still have her pillow on my bed but it doesn’t smell like her anymore.”

CompassNorth and I have been chatting in the middle of the night, every night for about six weeks. We share stories of our lost twins. We even once joked James and Lo would have been amazing together.

The next day, I wake up and head to work at the local Ogden coffee shop. The streets are dewy with fresh snow, it is beautiful.. I help patrons, explain what Machta is, style the playlist to the people plucking away at laptops and tablets, wondering if they are a Noah Kahan listener or more of a soothing classical piano piece. When my shift ends, I take off my khaki and black apron, hang it back up on the hook and get in my car and head back to my apartment.

Snow, my white and black cat rubs against my legs and purrs. “Hi Snowey, how was your day sweet boy?,” I say to him. I heat up Thai food leftovers from the night before for dinner and sit silently on my couch and watch reruns of Friends. I drift off on the couch, with Joey Tribbiani shouting in the background, “Could I be wearing anymore clothes?!”

My internal alarm clock wakes me at 1:17am. I reach for my phone on the coffee table, the dim light from the TV with the notification from the screen showing, “Are You Still Watching?”

I open Reddit, and head to my inbox.

StillHalfHere: Hi Compass. How was your day? Today was typical for me. My therapist even suggested I move from this apartment or start dating or join a book club to meet new friends. I cannot even leave my couch except to go to work.

There is no response, which is unsettling to me.

The next day operates exactly like the last sixty-two. Wake, shower, Snow snuggles, work, microwaved leftovers, different sitcoms, couch naps and internal alarm clocks.

I notice there is no response from Compass, which is strange. I message her again, “Hey Compass, is everything okay?”

I hop over to r/TwinLoss and post a new thread.

Title: Has anyone spoken to CompassNorth?

Body: Compass and I have been chatting nightly for six weeks now, and she hasn’t responded to me for a few days. I am worried about her.

Replies come in slowly:

“Sorry StillHalf, have not heard from her.”

“Check her bio, maybe she has social links there.”

“StillHalf - I can chat if you need a buddy tonight. You are not alone”

“Sometimes people just ghost the group, StillHalf, she might be gone”

I copy and paste her handle into google with no hits. I copy and paste my own handle plus the word Reddit into Google to see if anything pops up for me. Scrolling through the results on the landing page I find a blog, written by a man named James Rainey. I click on it. The most recent entry had been posted three hours earlier. The blog reads like a slow-motion car crash.

Blog Post # 93 StillHalfHere posted at 1:17am

Subject 93 firmly believes the twin overdosed in her vehicle outside of Ogden, Utah. She is wrong. Status unfavorable.

I refresh the page three times and the line is still there burning into me. Scrolling through past entries, most were rambling observations about grief, addiction, and loneliness but then one stopped me cold. LensAndLight. My mouth went dry and sweat pricked the back of my neck. LensAndLight was not a name, it was Lauren’s gmail handle.

Blog Post # 82: LensAndLight

Subject 82 displays elevated dependency traits. In terms of maturity and stature. Manipulation should be simple. Responsive to online forums and late night chats. Loneliness is evident. Prognosis favorable.

Update: LensAndLight: Intervention successful

I copy and paste James Rainey’s name into Google and message Compass again, frantically asking her if she can call me and give her my cell phone number. I get numerous hits on James Rainey but none in Ogden.

Blog Post # 94: CompassNorth

Progress slower than anticipated. The subject maintains attachment to deceased sibling. Recommend increased isolation.

Update: CompassNorth: Intervention successful.

I message her again: “Compass - I think you are in some kind of danger. I do not know how to explain this. Call me IMMEDIATELY”

Auto-Reply From Reddit: “Dear StillHalfHere: thank you for your message. User CompassNorth’s account has been deactivated. Please do not reply to this message as it comes from an automatic mailbox.”

Urgently, I search Google again. I am scrolling on LinkedIn when I see a photo of a man with a well kept beard wearing a dress shirt, open collar, and a dress jacket. His location reads at Cleveland, Ohio but I notice the background in his profile photo. It is Ogden. The coffee shop I work at is in the foreground with the mountain range in the distance. Something about the photo bothered me. Not his smile, but how practiced it looked, as though he had spent years learning exactly what broken people needed to trust.

I look at his resume, he is a psychologist and it hits me like a freighter. At the bottom it says, “James Rainey enjoys volunteering his time as a Crisis Suicide Hotline Specalist.” Now that I have more of his credentials I find out that his licence to practice was stripped from the state of Ohio two years ago. His email is listed, so I email him.

Subject: Lauren (Lo) Kendwell (AKA LensAndLight)

Body:

James - you have a blog post up where you reference my deceased sister by her online handle LensAndLight. You also have one up about an online acquaintance of mine, CompassNorth, but lastly you have one up about me. StillHalfHere. Who are you?

My body is trembling like I have had too much coffee. My eyes sting with tears and exhaustion. I take the keys from the hook next to my front door and walk across the hall. I very rarely visit Lauren’s apartment, but also refuse to end the lease. Once the term is up in July I will let it lapse then, but until then I let it exist. I walk into her space. It still smells like her, mint, and fresh herbs dying on the windowsills, clinging to the last shreds of life they have left.

I grab Lauren’s computer, and tell the empty apartment,“I have you Lo. Always and forever. Cradle to grave.”

Shutting the door, I return back to my apartment. Snow is curled in a ball on my couch and I proceed straight to my bedroom with the laptop. I never went through her personal belongings after her death. It was not that it felt like a violation or that it was too personal, because she was my twin. I knew everything, at least I thought I did until the officer told me she had overdosed. I chose not to dive into her electronics because it would be too painful for me. I did not want to know what led her to use again. What triggers pulled her proverbial recovery stitches. I was barely hanging on by a thread myself.

Quickly, I login to Lo’s iCloud account and start searching through the texts. There is a contact that was added four months ago. The contact name is just “J.” Lauren and J had been communicating for months. The first text reads, “Hey, it’s Doctor J from Reddit.” That resonates with me. I know a DoctorJay handle, he is a verified user on r/TwinLoss. He has been verified by the moderators as an actual doctor so when he responds to people and gives them advice they cling to it.

I read every single text. It starts off very casual. Lauren tells J about her battle with addiction and how she has been clean for sixteen months now. She tells him of the move to Ogden and her life with me but how she yearns for more. J is patient with her and offers her advice, guidance, and friendship.

My mouth is dry and I realize tears are streaming down my hot burning cheeks.

Lauren tells J about her depression. He recommends anti-depressants to her and even offers to do weekly therapy sessions. I notice he does not tell her his licence to practice has been suspended. I wonder if she knew.

I can see how easily Lauren is being manipulated in the texts. She is putty in his hands in this text chain. A young doe eyed vulnerable woman being manipulated by a washed up suspended psychologist.

Some nights they text all through the night. The texts get more personal and it is evident Lauren is developing an emotional attachment. She asks J if they can Facetime or talk on the phone but he always tells her he is in between clients or not Facetime presentable. I cannot get into her Reddit account, and get locked out for too many failed attempts.

The week before her overdose, things take a noticeable turn in the text thread. She tells J that her mental health is the worst it has ever been. The gray winter of Ogden, the social isolation and her life are just too much. On their own, J's replies seem harmless. Together, they feel like a noose tightening one thread at a time.

Lauren: J, it is 1:17am, I can NEVER sleep anymore. Do you have any recommendations of over the counter medications that would be safe for me to take in recovery?

J: Recovery doesn’t have to look the same for everyone

Lauren: My parents called again today, they want me, and Meredith, to come home. Nobody thinks I can do anything on my own. I am almost seventeen months now. That is a long time to be sober.

J: I wonder how much of your pain belongs to you and how much belongs to everyone else's expectations. What if the thing you're chasing isn't recovery at all, but permission?

The text chain ends at 10:23PM on the night Lo was found in her car with a bottle of pills surrounding her.

Lauren: I need help J. I do not feel like myself. I am sitting in my car right now alone. I think I need help. I do not know what to do.

J: Do you think you might harm yourself or others? Do you ever get tired of fighting?

Lauren: I don’t know J. I can’t do this anymore. My head hurts, everything hurts. I am exhausted.

J: Call this number, it is a suicide hotline. They will help you.

An outgoing call to an 800 number is next and that call lasted 9 minutes. Around 12:20AM is when her Apple watch stopped registering a heartbeat. When I should have been jolted from sleep with eternal awareness I was alone in this world.

I Google the 800 number in her contacts and it does not link to a suicide crisis hotline, it links to a VOIP registered to James Rainey.

The James Rainey blog post resonates in my mind, “she is wrong.”

I refresh his blog to read it again, and see an update.

Blog Post # 94: CompassNorth

Progress slower than anticipated. The subject maintains attachment to deceased sibling. Recommend increased isolation.

Update: CompassNorth: Second intervention unsuccessful.

I need to talk to Compass. I head back to my Reddit post asking about Compass and plead with the members if anyone knows her personally to please reach out to me. I even post my cell phone number on the post so I do not have to keep checking my inbox.

Restless and confused I am scrolling in my bed that same night and at 1:17AM I get a text:

Unknown Number: Let’s Chat

Meredith: Who is this?

Unknown Number: A friend to L, CN, and…you.

Meredith: Okay then. Do you want to hide behind your phone or do you want to man up and face me?

The unknown number drops a pin.

I have seen this in movies before and always mock the main character when they just get up and go, but here I am, getting up and going. Adrenaline fueling me. I need to know what happened to my sister.

Arriving at the location, on the outskirts of town, I can feel the sweat damping my shirt. I see railroad tracks and a dim light, like a laptop screen.

I yell out, “Hey! Who are you?”

A woman responds, “CompassNorth”

I run down to the tracks, CompassNorth sits on the rail edge with a laptop in her lap.

“You’re not dead,” I quip.

Bitterly, CompassNorth scoffs, “no thanks to him.”

She turns the laptop towards me and I see online handles, LensAndLight, CompassNorth, StillHalfHere and dozens more. Some of the names are marked complete, others are marked active.

“Are those people from grief groups?” I ask in a hushed tone. CompassNorth nods.

“Why?” is my next question.

Compass tells me, “He convinces them that nobody can help them but him. That he is the only one they can trust. My chest seizes, “Lauren.” I say.

Nodding again, Compass tells me, “I think Lauren figured it out. Your sister didn’t overdose Meredith.”

Sitting on the damp wet ground again, she opens a folder on her screen labeled “JR”, inside are several subfolders: victims, timelines, blog entries.

“Evidence.” I croak out.

A train whistles in the distance, and we stand and move from the tracks. The air is suddenly frigid.

“Lauren contacted me.” She turns her laptop screen so I can see an email chain. She emailed me three days before she died. We had planned to meet that night. I was too late. I was the one that called 911” Compass’ last statement drives home.

My phone vibrates in my hand and the illumination of the screen breaks the darkness of the night, it is an email

Sender: James Rainey

Subject: Hello

Body: Don’t you two look cozy down there. Tell Compass hi from me.

I turn my phone to Compass and stares beyond me.

"Meredith," she whispered.

I turn. A man dressed in black stands on the other side of the tracks.