Page 45 of Made for You
“Sure.” I take a deep breath as the grand double doors swing open. I don’t have to fake my gasp.
“Oh my God!” squeal two of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen. Before I can get my bearings, I’m enfolded in a tangle of arms and a strong smell of mint and rum.
“You know who we are, right?” gushes one, pulling back and adjusting her long dark hair so that it swoops over both tanned shoulders.
“Christi and Chrystel!” I exclaim.
“Yes!” cries Christi. Besides their clothing styles, the only difference between them is their hair—Christi’s long and dark, Chrystel’s bobbed and bleached at the tips. Christi claps her hands together. “We’re here filming a special segment of Keeping Up with the Synths! Welcome to Season 4!”
“Wow!” I can’t help but feel a little starstruck. Okay, a lot starstruck. There are always rag mags lying around the house, and Christi and Chrystel feature heavily. I’ve seen them on best-dressed and worst-dressed lists, in candid shots at celebrity parties, on beaches, in sweatpants and ball caps making grocery store runs.
“Can you believe this?” says Chrystel, flipping her bob. “The only three Synths in the country, together in one room?”
“It would be the perfect opportunity for a hater to, like, blow us up,” says Christi with dark humor.
“Not funny!” cries Chrystel, whacking her twin on the arm.
They’re nearly as tall as me, with sculpted figure-eight bodies and striking faces. Christi’s style is more street: ripped boyfriend jeans, a sequin-encrusted tube top, and high-heeled sneakers. Chrystel is all-out glam, in wide-leg sheer black pants that reveal her high-waisted underwear, and a corset top that looks more like a bra.
“So we’ve been dying to meet you,” says Christi.
“Obviously,” says Chrystel.
“I’m so flattered,” I say, feeling overwhelmed. Their personalities are larger than life.
“And, obviously, we’d love to know all about you,” says Christi. “Like, how is this process for you? How are we feeling about our chances with Josh? Let’s sit! Drinks?”
Christi pours three glasses of rosé while Chrystel settles into a mustard velvet love seat. I take the wing chair next to it. They’re obviously just as practiced as I am at ignoring the crew moving around us.
“Like, some people have objected that since you were designed for Josh, you have an unfair advantage,” says Christi, artfully draping herself on the love seat beside her sister. “I’m so curious to hear your response. Also because by the time this segment airs, your journey will be over for better or for worse, so we can contrast your expectations with how it all plays out.” The sisters both drum their fingers together in fake villainy and I have to laugh.
“I mean, yes, I was designed with his personality in mind, but I don’t think that makes it any easier for me. There are a lot of girls whose personalities fit really well with Josh’s. I honestly can’t make any predictions. I’m taking it as it comes. There are amazing moments, and really hard moments.”
“It’s like real life, but on steroids,” says Christi.
I don’t have real life to compare it to yet, but I smile and nod. “I mean, your real life is kind of your show, right? The two are blended?” My curiosity is genuine, and I want so badly to ask if they feel a sense of purpose outside of the men they were designed for. Though the answer seems obvious. With their show and their ambition and Christi wanting a divorce...they must. “Do you...like being in the public eye?”
“Some days,” laughs Chrystel. “Other days...”
“...we just want to flip everyone off and hide in bed,” finishes Christi.
“But we keep letting them in, because we think it’s important for people to see we’re just like other women.”
“And because we love attention.”
I laugh. I can’t help but love these two. They’re so bubbly, and so delightfully honest. I take a sip of wine. There’s a little buzz in my head, and I can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or the twins’ intoxicating presence.
“This may be a weird question, but do you feel like your identities are separate from the Klavson brothers?” I ask. “I mean—obviously there’s the divorce thing going on—” I blush. I’m sticking my foot in my mouth.
“Honestly, it’s a whole journey.” Christi laughs. “I do feel kind of empty right now, kind of listless or whatever, but that could also be, like, heartbreak, you know? I’m focusing on me and really trying to take control of my own destiny, but it’s for sure a work in progress.”
I sense I should leave it there, but I find myself pressing on. “You think we have a destiny, like, separate than what we were, um...made for?”
“I think destiny is bullshit,” says Christi firmly. “We are our choices.”
“Oh, totally,” echoes Chrystel, clapping in approval. I clap, too, because it seems rude not to.
Part of me loves Christi’s answer. The other part is revolted by it. It sounds so cold. I don’t want to live by choices. I want to live by love—a love that’s stronger than me. That feels right...doesn’t it?