The Single Twin

by Sean Little

  Instead, he pushed down his selfish feelings and let his logical mind proceed. He reached out and covered Tilda’s hand with his free hand. It felt small and thin beneath his fingers. “Tildy—Matilda, I prepared you to make your own decisions for things like this. Do you like this boy?”

  Tilda blushed again. “Well, yeah. Sure.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s cute. He’s athletic. He’s a tight end on our football team. Not a starter yet, but he will be someday. He gets good grades. He’s funny.”

  “Is he kind to others?”

  “Oh, absolutely! If there’s fights in the hallways, he’s usually one of the first guys in there trying to break things up before someone gets hurt. Everyone likes him.”

  “How’s his hygiene?”

  Tilda rolled her eyes. “Daddy, please. He always smells good.”

  Abe patted her hand. The next words felt thick in his mouth. “I do not have a problem with you going out with Magnus and your friends. I’d like to meet him, of course. Someday. Just, remember everything we talked about. No means no. If you feel uncomfortable, you can always leave and call me. I will come get you anywhere, anytime, no questions asked. If you start to feel like something is wrong, just get out of there.”

  “Daddy, these are the friends I have lunch with every day at school and play video games with at night. I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will, too. It never hurts to get a reminder of the rules of the world, though.”

  Tilda smiled broadly. Her braces had neon-pink bands on them. The braces made her look too young to date. When she wasn’t smiling, she looked three years older than she actually was. “Thanks, Daddy. I knew you would understand.”

  Abe nodded. A lump had formed in his throat. He swallowed hard and smiled politely. Then, he tried to eat more of his pizza, although it now tasted like wood pulp. The song “Sunrise, Sunset” started playing in his head. He suddenly felt ancient.

  Tilda was wriggling with joy. “I wish I had a cellphone so I could text Becky. She’ll be thrilled.”

  “No phones,” Abe managed to squeak out. “You look at a screen enough between television and your PlayStation.”

  “I know, but literally every kid at my school has a phone. I’m still a freak without one.”

  A few years ago, Abe would have rebutted this claim with the old Not-everyone-has-a-phone dodge. Now it was probably a factual statement. Given they lived so close to the school and given Katherine worked within the school district and saw how the phones were turning kids into screen-stuck zombies, Katherine and Abe were most likely the last parents in the district to continue withholding a phone from their child.

  “Dad, do you think you’ll start dating again?”

  Abe almost choked on his pizza. The change of subject caught him off-guard. He coughed and sputtered. He almost knocked over his water grabbing for it. “What?”

  Tilda’s joy at being allowed to date was quickly replaced by a look of concern. “Dad, you don’t do well alone. I watched you and Mom a lot when I was growing up. You deferred to her over everything. You let her take the lead on everything. No one doubts you’re a genius. No one doubts you’re a great detective. But, for everything else you’re pretty blah.”

  “Blah?”

  “You know what I mean. Don’t take it like that. You just sort of go blah. You like solving crimes and helping people, I know. But, you don’t do well on your own. Even as a detective, you need Duff around you. He needs you, too. Mom used to call him your other wife.” Matilda gave Abe a look of pity that made his heart hurt. “I’m just saying, I think you would be happier if you had a girlfriend, someone strong who can take charge for you like Mom did.”

  Abe drank his entire glass of water. He thumped the glass down on the table and signaled the waitress for a refill. “I hear what you’re saying, and I appreciate your concern.”

  “Why don’t you start dating again? The divorce is only a few months old, but you and I both know your marriage was over a couple years ago. You and Mom are great friends, but you weren’t really a husband and wife after I turned ten, probably. Even before, you always had tension. I could tell.”

  She was not wrong. Kids were far more perceptive than most adults give them credit for being. Abe cleared his throat. “When your mom and I first met, I knew I was going to marry her. We just made sense, you know? In all our years together, I never even considered another woman. I would not have had any luck trying to find another woman. I know from experience. I know what I look like. I know I’m not overly successful. I know I’m odd. I’m okay with all that. They’re just not traits women, especially women my age, find appealing.”

  “So, you’re not going to date again?”

  Abe thought long and hard about this. Eventually, he shook his head. “N,. I think my dating days are done.”

  “You’re still young,” Tilda countered.

  “I’m old enough, and I feel even older,” said Abe. “I’m happy with my work. I’m more than happy with you. I’m glad your mother and I can remain friends. I’m content, Tildy. Sometimes, that’s enough.”

  “I guess I have to accept your wishes on this, don’t I?” Tilda scowled at Abe playfully. She was not upset, but she was worried about her father. “Promise me you won’t ignore a chance for happiness if it presents itself.”

  Abe’s love for his daughter knew no bounds, but at that moment it seemed to expand that much more. The unconditional love of his child was filling. It made him gleeful, at times. His nature was to be morose, but he couldn’t down around her. He smiled, a genuine smile this time. “I won’t. I promise.”

  “You deserve to be happy, Dad,” said Tilda. “Duff, too. Make him promise me, too.”

  Abe winced. “Tildy, I’ve told you before—Duff is special. He does things his own way. He sees the world on his own wavelength. A lot of that wavelength makes him entirely incompatible for lasting relationships with women.”

  “But, you’ve known him almost as long as you’ve known Mom. How can you have a twenty-year relationship with him and no one else can?”

  Abe genuinely did not know how to answer. “I don’t know. I don’t ask anything of him. If he doesn’t speak to me for three days in a row, I don’t take it personally. I know he’s not mad at me; I know he’s thinking about something else. It would take a very special woman to understand him.”

  “Mom says she thinks Duff is asexual.”

  Abe knew from seeing Duff’s internet search history around the office he was definitely not asexual. Duff just did not have the patience or interpersonal skills to cultivate a healthy relationship. Hell, even his own relationship with Duff probably wouldn’t be classified as “healthy” by any sort of counselors or standard metrics. Abe just smiled. “Duff is just Duff.”

  “Can I be frank, Dad?”

  “Of course. Always.”

  “I think Uncle Duff might be the only person I know who honestly and truly gives absolutely zero fucks.”

  That was the first time Tilda used any sort of curse word around him stronger than “Darn it!” Abe had not been prepared to hear it from her. Of course, she did attend public school; she probably knew every curse word in the book before the end of first grade. If she was old enough to date, she was old enough to occasionally drop F-bombs around her old man. Abe swallowed any parental outrage over his daughter cussing in front of him and smiled. “You are absolutely correct. He does not.”

  DUFF WAS SOMETHING of an anomaly when it came to physical fitness. He was definitely obese, but he was strong. He had a pronounced hatred of just taking a walk for the sake of walking for one’s health, but if he had someplace he wanted to be he’d happily walk to get there. He had been known to lace up his Asics running shoes and go for a twelve or thirteen-mile stroll just to get to a new barbeque place he’d read about online. He did not like gyms, but he did like sports. He was not good at sports, but he could play pick-up basketball all day long without getting tired
or bored. Put him on a treadmill and he lost all motivation and energy to continue within minutes.

  When he left Katherine’s house, Duff had a destination. It was not someplace he really wanted to go, but a puzzle needing solving was hanging in the balance, as well as the fifty-large waiting to be paid to them for freeing Mindy from having to go underground. Duff was a man of principles who liked to think he couldn’t be bought, but surprisingly his principles were not overly sound, and he had a fairly low buyout point. Fifty grand meant a lot to Abe, Duff knew. Duff’s own monetary needs were small, especially considering he slept at the office and didn’t own a vehicle, but he would do almost anything to help Abe keep himself and Tilda afloat. Tilda would be going to college soon. Abe would need money even if his daughter got all the scholarships. College was expensive and Tilda had her father’s brain. She would probably want to go to Northwestern like her parents, and nowadays that place was a true bank-breaker.

  Duff wound his way down residential streets, not rushing but not exactly strolling either. He moved with a distinct and steady gait which allowed him to cover miles with efficiency, if not speed. If he did not think about it his knees, ankles, and thighs would not bother him. That would happen later when he sat in his chair and all his bones would feel like they had stress fractures. In the moment, he could power past aches and tightness. Pain was something for quiet times after the exertion.

  Whenever he walked long distances, Duff wished he smoked. He could see the appeal of lighting up a cigarette as he strolled along the sidewalk on a hot August night. Of course, if he did smoke, it was much more unlikely he’d have the lungpower to hoof out long distances, so it was a bit of a wash in the end.

  Duff was in no hurry. Truth was he did not even want to be doing what he was doing. Desperate times call for desperate measures, though. Even the proudest man must humble himself occasionally.

  It took him almost three hours of walking through residential neighborhoods, occasionally crossing a major intersection, and winding through some sketchy alleys to get to where he was headed. When he arrived, he stopped on the edge of the street, a short chunk of road called Lepton Drive. The street was picturesque. It was lined with old-growth maples and oaks, each of them towering above the two-story homes on either side of the street. Each of the homes was early 20th Century, broad and square, rich with windows and elegant wooden trim. The houses were old, but they were all well-maintained, and easily would sell for somewhere in the mid-to-high six-figure range in that location.

  Duff walked to just past the center of the block, stopping in front of a large house with an old, faded, redwood three-season porch jutting out of the front and a few five-foot evergreen shrubs along the edge of the yard. The house stood out from many of the others in the neighborhood. It was sided with cedar shingles, most of them worn to a soft gray from age and weather.

  He stood on the sidewalk and stared at the house for a long time. A few lights inside cast shadows that flickered on the walls when a body moved around them, so he knew someone was home. He just had no desire to go speak to the occupant. He’d been dreading this day for more than twenty years. He knew it had to be done, though. Duff steeled himself with a few deep breaths of the humid night air. Somewhere nearby was a hot dog place; he could taste it on the breeze. He made a note to find the shop after this was over. He would need something rewarding by then.

  Duff walked to the front door of the three-season porch and rang the doorbell. From deep within the house, he could hear the faint sound of Westminster quarters. He waited, tension building in his chest.

  There was the sound of movement in the house, unhurried steps and a soft sigh. There was a number of clicks as someone undid a complex series of locks. The heavy wooden inner door swung open and a silhouette emerged at the inner screen door. An older woman, almost what one would consider elderly, stood before him. She had her hair pulled into such a tight chignon on the back of her head it actually ironed out some of the wrinkles that would have been on the edges of her face. She wore a light cardigan over a white blouse with a ruffle at the throat and a heavy corduroy skirt, a ridiculous outfit in the summer heat. She looked like a stereotypical old-school librarian, right down to the thick, black-rimmed glasses she wore. The woman looked over Duff standing on the other side of the porch door. She adjusted her glasses and raised her nose, squinting to pull him into focus. If she was surprised to see him, it did not show. Her face remained slack and impassive, not a single hint of emotion registered. She said nothing.

  Duff gave the woman a sheepish half-smile. He choose a greeting. In his best imitation of the old “Learn to Speak Latin” tapes he used to listen to as a child he said, “Salve, Mater.”

  The woman’s face remained impassive. Her body did not shift. She continued to squint at him in the darkness. After a long moment, she responded. There was no warmth in her voice. She was as flat, emotionless, and uninvolved as the Latin tapes. She might as well have been reading her greeting off of a cue card. “Salve, Filius.”

  It had been a long, long time since Duff had seen his mother.

  -10-

  AMITY ABLEMAN-DUFFY, Ph.D., did not rush to the door to welcome her son into her home. Nor did her son expect her to. Instead, she stood at the main door to the house with six feet of front porch and a locked porch door between them. “It has been, what? Twenty-two years?”

  “Give or take.” Even though they had not spoken in all that time, Duff always kept tabs on his parents, as he was sure they had kept tabs on him. There was a reason Amity took the teaching job at DePaul University shortly after Duff moved to Chicago. It was as though being in the vicinity made her feel like less of an absentee parent.

  “You must need something from me.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  Amity Ableman-Duffy nodded slowly. “I suppose that is true. You missed your father’s funeral.”

  “He actually sent me a letter from the hospital telling me not to show up.”

  “I know. He dictated it to me. He was too weak to write it himself.”

  Duff had half-expected that. “Figures. Good to know you two made up after the divorce.”

  “Only for legal purposes. I held power of attorney for him, as he did for me.”

  “Nice. Gotta love old-fashioned romance.”

  Amity looked like a figurine. She held herself very still, very rigid. “I suppose you would like to come in and speak?”

  “Not necessarily. I’m happy to stand here and conduct business.”

  Amity stepped into the porch and crossed to the door. She unlocked the porch screen door and pushed it open. “Come in, then. I will start coffee.”

  “I don’t drink coffee.”

  “Tea, then.”

  “I don’t drink tea, either.”

  Amity sighed. “You drink common beverages then?”

  “What in the high holy fuck do you mean by that, Mom? There’s nothing more common than coffee and tea.” Duff stepped onto his mother’s porch, already she was getting under his skin in the way only mothers could.

  “Let me guess, you drink diet cola or some other beverage of simpletons.”

  “How the hell is cola the beverage of simpletons?”

  “Please.” Her voice was flat, as if his question was beyond answering because it should be common knowledge to everyone.

  “I don’t want any beverages, Ma. Just let me know if you can help me or not and I’ll be on my way.”

  Amity paused in the doorway. “It would all depend on what you need. I told you years ago I would never give you money or a place to sleep.”

  “I want neither of those.”

  “Oh?”

  “You sound surprised.” Duff stopped before the door. There was a slight step up into the house so he and his much-shorter mother were eye-to-eye.

  “I am. I figured this silly detective business of yours finally failed, and you were desperate. What else could have finally brought you to my door?”
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  “With all this positive support and encouragement, I’m amazed you’re not writing parenting books.”

  Amity adjusted her glasses. “Sarcasm is unbecoming, Clive.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “It is your name.”

  “It’s the name Dad insisted on giving me. I never consented to it. It’s a stupid name. And my business is going just fine. Abe and I are still quite in demand. We work steadily. We’ve never missed a rent payment. We’re fine.”

  “Well, I guess this is one of the rare times where I was wrong.” Amity turned and walked further into her home. “Come, then.”

  Duffy stopped at the door. The air conditioning for the home was cranked to chilling levels. His mother had always preferred winter’s cold. She was not happy unless it was below sixty degrees. Perhaps it was a reflection of her personality. She was always chilly and distant, even to Duff’s father. He often wondered why they bothered to get married in the first place.

  There was a pungent smell wafting from the interior of the house, a combination of incense and something cooked in a crockpot with heavy spices, possibly Indian food. “I’ll make it quick, Ma. Do you still support the local Democrats?”