Chapter 16 - Michaela's Story
May 27, 1999 - Tulsa, Oklahoma
Tweedle-Tay and I walked cautiously down the stairs. Our parents had apparently taken the family on vacation and our mother was letting us out of the attic so we could feed ourselves. We wouldn't be surprised however, if our father had been standing at the bottom of the stairs just waiting to shoot us. All this punishment just for existing. However, Tweedle-Tay and I checked the house thoroughly and there was no one hidden in any corners. The car was gone and a great deal of things were removed from each of the bedrooms. I looked a Tweedle-Tay. "Well," I said, "Now's our chance."
To see his face light up when I said those words was pure heaven. It felt good to know that I could make someone happy just by saying those three little words. "So what do we do?" he asked.
"Well," I said, "Let's see. We have to leave Tulsa and catch a plane to LA, so the first thing we should do is book two tickets for the next flight. We'll need to pack about two small bags each, only what we can carry, and catch a taxi to Oklahoma city."
"Cool," Tweedle-Tay replied. "I'll book the plane tickets."
"Actually," I said, "That may not be such a good idea...."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Well, think about it. The plane tickets will have to be booked under a name. You're missing and presumed dead, so if the tickets are booked under your name it's going to look really conspicuous. No one knows who I am but thousands of people still remember who you are. You didn't exactly fade away, if you know what I mean. You left with a bang and the debris is still around," I explained.
Tweedle-Tay nodded, looked up the number of the Oklahoma City airport, dialed and handed the phone to me. "Hello, Oklahoma City Airport Bookings, how may I help you?" the attendant said.
"Um," I said nervously. "I'd like to book two tickets to LA, the next flight there if possible."
"Right. There's a flight leaving at 4pm today. Could you make it here in time for that?" the attendant asked.
"Just a sec," I said. I turned and asked Tweedle-Tay how long it would take to drive to Oklahoma City. There was enough time. "Sure, that would be fine," I replied.
"First class, business or coach?"
I considered for a few moments. Sure, I had millions of dollars in the bank, but I wasn't sure if first class would be a wise choice. And I hated coach. "Uh, business," I said. I could see Tweedle-Tay silently cheering next to me.
"And what name should I book the tickets under?" The attendant asked.
"Michaela Morgan. Oh and do you want my credit card number?" I asked.
"That might be helpful," the attendant said sarcastically.
I fixed up the payment and hung up the phone. "Well, that's settled."
"I guess we should go pack now," Tweedle-Tay said.
I nodded and we walked back up to the attic. We both grabbed a suitcase and a small bag for the plane and began to pack. It was incredibly difficult, deciding what to take with us, especially for Tweedle- Tay, who had everything he'd ever owned in the house. It was easier for me because I'd only taken a small number of items with me to Tulsa in the first place. I suggested to Tweedle-Tay that he only take necessities and things of sentimental value. In just over half-an-hour we were packed. We lugged our bags downstairs. "You should call for the taxi," I told Tweedle- Tay. "You know this area a lot better than I do. Don't ask the taxi to come to our house, ask it to come a few blocks from here and we'll walk there with our bags. It'll look too suspicious, a guy who looks like Tweedle-Tay Manson, standing outside the Manson house, catching a taxi to Oklahoma City."
Tweedle-Tay picked up the phone and dialed. "Um, hi, I'd like to book a taxi......... yeah.... um could it come now....... to the intersection between Myrtle Street and Rosebud Avenue...... we're going to Oklahoma City airport.... yeah thanks." He hung up the phone.
"Thanks Tay," I said affectionately. Sometimes I felt more like his mother than his twin sister. We walked to the door and tried to open it but it was locked. "Shit!" I said, angrily. "How are we going to get out now?" I started to cry. We had been so close to get out of the attic and now this!
Tweedle-Tay paced up and down for a few seconds before running up the stairs. He returned a minute later holding our father's bowling ball. He threw it at our loungeroom window and the glass shattered, leaving ample space for us to get out. I ran over and hugged him gratefully. "Thank you soooo much," I said.
He shrugged and said, "No problem." Perhaps I had underestimated my brother. I stepped through the hole in the window and Tweedle-Tay followed. We walked carefully down the street, Tweedle-Tay leading the way to Myrtle Street. Once we got there we walked more confidently. When we reached the intersection I sat down and Tweedle-Tay leant against the fire hydrant. It felt so good to be outside again, to actually have fresh air against my skin. Of course, once we go to LA it wouldn't be fresh air, but it would be air all the same. A big yellow taxi pulled up.
"Are you the kids who booked the taxi?" the driver asked.
"Yes, that was us," I said, standing up. The driver helped us put our suitcases in the boot and I showed him that we had enough money to pay for the trip. Tweedle-Tay opened the car door and hopped into the backseat and I followed. The driver started the car and drove along Myrtle Street.

"So why are you kids going to Oklahoma City Airport?" the driver asked.
"We're going to LA," Tweedle-Tay said.
"I see. Are you visiting anyone?" the driver continued.
"Yes, we're going to our grandmother's house," I replied.
"Right, so you two are brother and sister?"
"Yeah," I said.
The driver turned into Stoneybrook Crescent, our street. Tweedle- Tay's eyes were glued to our side of the street. The driver noticed our interest as we passed the house. "That's the old Manson house," he said. "You know those blonde boys in the band. That middle one went missing. Some say it was murder you know........ You two look around his age, were you into their music?"
But neither Tweedle-Tay or I could answer. Tweedle-Tay looked almost wistful and felt surprisingly sad. We were leaving. "Goodbye Stoneybrook Crescent," I said softly, squeezing Tweedle-Tay's hand. We turned the corner into another street. We both turned our attention back to the driver.
"Sorry, what did you say?" Tweedle-Tay asked.

To find out what happens next, check out San Fernando Valley High - part 3 in the Tweedle-Tay Saga.