Resurrection

by Michael Clements

  One day, it finally hit me (and I mean no offense by this): there was something wrong with you, Ethan. I didn’t think you were mentally ill or anything. At the time, I couldn’t think of any way to describe it, but in hindsight, I would describe how I saw you as ‘damaged.’ Truth is, nobody ever told me that Phoebe wasn’t your real mom. Nobody even told me how we were related, except the word ‘cousins’ being dropped once in a while. I never cared to ask. I didn’t know any of this basic information until years later, when you finally told me himself. Back then, though, I did try to ask Phoebe about the both and Lilith. It was literally the only time I ever talked to Phoebe, and she never gave me an answer. Why was that the only time I ever spoke to Phoebe? Because I found her – and still find her – terrifying. Mob bosses always are, even if they’re soft-spoken and patient like Phoebe. Usually people with that kind of power are men, especially in the criminal underworld, which only made her more scary.

  Anyway, despite your disturbing input, playing music with you was a lot of fun. It all went to hell once Lily started to have a problem with it. One day, she came over and threw a mountain-sized bitch fit. She accused me of ‘trying to make her jealous’ and ‘trying to be his sister.’ I honestly, to this day, have no idea where Lily even got those ideas, but her problem was jealousy for sure.

  Lily always treated you like property. I never doubted her love, but it was the wrong kind of love. It was like she only paid attention to you when she needed your help, or if she just wanted attention. And it worked at least half the time. After her first bitch fit when I was ‘hogging you to myself,’ you didn’t come over so often anymore. Sometimes, I came to the house, and Phoebe told me you guys didn’t want to see me. We spent less and less time at school together…

  I started to really, really hate Lily. But what could I do about it? Nothing. She was smarter than me, had power over one of my only friends, and her mom was a fucking mob boss. The most I could do against her was stop calling her ‘Lily’ and start calling her by her birth name ‘Eva.’ Damn, did that piss her off. I got a lot of gratification from that, but you sided with her on the issue. Eventually, you and I just stopped hanging out altogether.

  It really wasn’t until February 1996 that we started being friends again. I only remember the exact month and year because it was just a couple weeks before you twins became teenagers. For some reason, that was a big deal to you guys. I had turned 13 back in December, and I didn’t think it was anything worth celebrating, but whatever. Anyway, a couple weeks before your birthday, my parents and I were invited to ‘the white house’ for Super Bowl. Me, being completely bored with football and never finding it minutely interesting, hung out in the back yard where all the women did their gossip. You and Lilith came out there sometime after I did. You guys were arguing, and when you came outside, you both walked straight toward me. Then you asked me, “Remember when we had that argument about my sister’s name?”

  No, it was only the last thing we ever talked about, and it only resulted in us not talking to each other for a hundred years! No, I have absolutely no memory of that altercation!

  Well, that’s what I wanted to say. I ended up just saying yes.

  Then, you said, “Well, she doesn’t seem to understand why that’s offensive.”

  I kind of … froze for a second. I remember saying, “Sorry, but I don’t even know why it’s offensive.”

  “Our mom gave her the name ‘Eva.’ But, as soon as we were adopted, she changed her name.”

  Lily (or, Eva… whatever the fuck is the right way to refer to her), in her usual sarcastic, arrogant, I’m-better-than-you attitude kept saying, “It’s just a name!”

  I didn’t care about the subject, but I did thoroughly enjoy watching you two clash. You were finally sticking up for yourself, doing your own thinking. Maybe you were finally starting to see what a manipulative bitch Lily was? Well, the argument finally ended when Lily just gave up and stormed off. Later, when I went back inside and actually joined the grown-ups watching the game, you came up to me. You told me you were sorry for being unfair to me. I thought you were just talking about all the times you ignored me because your sister demanded it, and maybe you were, but regardless, I kept silent and walked away. To be honest, I don’t know why I did. I think it was because I wanted you to know how upset I was at what you did. Before I got five steps, I turned around. I didn’t want to behave childishly just to get what I wanted; that was Lily’s job. So, I turned around and said I forgive you.

  You and I never became as good of friends as we used to be. We forgave each other for the stupid drama that happened earlier, but Lily was still your sister, which meant she always had some priority over me. You did visit me sometimes, though.

  When high school rolled around in September 1997, I finally started to learn things about my enigmatic cousin. I don’t know what was going on with you during middle school that made you so secretive, but come high school, you really opened up to me. One day, again during lunch, you came up to me and asked if I still write music. I said I do, but I also started writing stories and poems. Then, I asked how your martial arts stuff was going. You said you still practice all the time and you believed you’d gotten very skilled. That led to a conversation about how to win fights; apparently there’s more to it than just beating someone until they can’t fight back. You made sure I knew that the best fighters outsmart their opponents instead of trying to ‘outstrength’ them. It actually became a humorous conversation when I found out that you and Lilith are equally skilled, and strong. You admitted she defeats you half the time you spar. Really, how could that not be funny? She’s like a foot shorter than you.

  Finally, I dared to do what I never had the courage to do. I asked why you’re obsessed with fighting. You didn’t answer. In fact, you didn’t even look at me again for the rest of lunch. After school, I went to your house to talk to you. Lilith answered the door. I asked if I could talk to you, then she, after a very long pause, said she’d go get you. It took ten minutes for either of you to come to the door. I waited, though. When you both finally came to the front door, you said you can’t talk.

  Terrible liar; just gotta say.

  Instead of calling your bluff, I simply responded by saying I wanted to talk. Realizing that I saw straight through your lie, you said we’ll talk at your house. We went to my room, sat down. You asked me not to tell anyone what you were about to say.

  I swore.

  I didn’t even need to apologize, as I had intended, nor did I need to ask my (apparently offensive) question again. Right up, all on your own, you told me everything.

  An hour of heartfelt monologue later, and I finally got to know the real Ethan; all the way down to his core. More deeply than a valley, more intimately than a lover, and more immensely than a galaxy. I learned about your mother, who died before your very eyes, and that you blamed himself ever since. Thought you didn’t directly say this, I learned that Lilith needs you almost as much as you need her. Suddenly, it made sense why you had no other friends; it made sense why you always listened to Lilith even when you two disagreed. You had said Lilith was the only person you’ve ever trusted. The death of your mother and the subsequent fallout wasn’t all there was to tell, though. You told me how since your adoption, Lilith got increasingly … ruthless. You didn’t delve into any details, but that’s what it amounted to. If someone intimidated you, she’d either threaten or just hurt them. She pressured you to be the same way. Eventually, you found himself being just like her. One time, you broke a guy’s knee just for flirting with her. That got you suspended, I recall. Considering what happened to your mother, I’m literally shocked that’s the worst you ever got. And after being adopted by a mob boss, it’s even more surprising.

  You’re a good person. If you weren’t, you would have become a psycho by now. Who knows? If you spend another year around that sister of yours, you might be.

  Before you left that day, you told me about how things between you and you sis
ter were deteriorating lately. The reason shocked me yet again. Apparently, ever since I came into your lives, Lilith felt I was replacing her. Demanding that you never see me worked for a while, but not forever. She resorted to more extreme measures to keep control of you. She started sneaking into your room at night, sleeping next to you. You didn’t find that strange at first because the two of you had shared a sleeping space ten thousand times before. This time though, when she had snuck into your room, she tried to seduce you. You told me you resisted, but eventually gave in. You specified, with great emphasis, never getting inside her, but there was some … touching. This went on for weeks, and you grew more and more disgusted by it every time. At first you thought it was a desperate attempt at manipulation, but whenever you resisted, it made her cry, and you knew the difference between her real crying and fake. For a long time – years, even – you didn’t want the only person you loved and trusted in the world to feel like you were rejecting her, so you kept allowing these sexual encounters to continue.

  You told me you think your sister is equally as damaged as you are. I guess that would make it difficult to blame her for anything committed, or was compelled to do. You’re convinced your sister is in love with you, as if the promise to never love or trust anyone else went too far. I gotta give this to Lilith, though: At least she kept her promise. Too far in that direction, but she nonetheless kept her promise. Finally, you said enough and told her it has to stop. It broke Lilith’s heart, of course. Now, you just want to feel normal, so you’re going to try to hang around normal people for a change. “I love her,” you told me, “but I feel weighed down by her. You know?”

  For the rest of freshman year, I tried to compel you to make friends. You know, like normal people. You seemed to enjoy hanging around my girl friends the most. For the longest time I thought you were flirting with them, but, it turns out you were never interested in them. I even tried to hook you up with my best friend, Amber. She liked you a lot. You weren’t interested, though. Of course, after that there’s only one theory anyone would come up with. Maybe you’re gay and just didn’t know it yet? So, naturally, I tried to talk about the guys around school I thought were cute, or smart, or muscular… Nope. You wasn’t interested in guys, either.

  Around the beginning of sophomore year, which was 1998, I finally asked why you never pursued guys or girls. I figured we were close enough to be honest with each other like that. You said you were never interested in either, and that you, in fact, never thought sex was appealing. The way you described your feelings toward it, it seemed the subject of sex in general disgusted you. Unfortunately, I believed it, but I don’t think you were born that way, though. I blame you sister. I think because of her, you have a ton of mental blocks. All those years of coercing you to pleasure each other… Yeah, I’m sure that would do it.

  Still, you preferred the company of girls far more than guys. You were never interested in sports, or cars, or the most typical one: getting laid. You preferred talking, being artsy, pondering the deeper meaning of everything, getting to know people, and things like that. Things girls like to do more than guys. Everyone’s different, of course. Some of my girl friends talked about sex just as often as any typical guy. And you avoided them, too.

  I always greatly admired you for your love of the important things, but it’s also depressed me. Sometimes the unimportant, short-term fun is necessary. I tried to motivate you to let loose once in a while; stop being so serious. Never worked. In freshman year I was sort of dating this guy from theater. I lost my virginity to him. After that, I wasn’t so shy to date guys and sleep with them. Point is, I learned for myself that sex was actually fun, and kind of necessary at times. Seems you completely missed out on the experience. But if you can never let loose and just have fun once in a while, you’ll never be happy. I figured, all I could do was just keep trying to be you friend. Your mental blocks would break down eventually, I figured.

  And they did… Just not in the way I ever expected….

  December 31st, 1999. I’m sure you remember that night all too well.

  I had turned 17 earlier that month. Amber invited me to go to her New Year’s party. My parents were apathetic toward New Year’s, even if the century and millennium would end that night, so expected, they had no plans. Your family had plans, but you didn’t want to attend whatever it was. So, instead of letting you stay home alone, I invited you to come to Amber’s party. You brought your guitar along. I did, too. There ended up only being like seven of us total. Not a huge gathering.

  Amber and I went upstairs to just hang out shortly after we arrived, talking about boys at school and what we want to do after high school. She didn’t feel very hopeful for her future, and brought up prostitution. I was disgusted with the idea at first, but she provided nuanced information and facts about it, and suddenly it didn’t sound so bad. Amber figured she’d just resort to prostitution for the first couple of years. It paid well, and she was confident in her ability to stay safe. She was completely serious. It saddened me, but I sided with her. She came from a wealthy family but her parents never paid any attention to her and outright said she won’t inherit their money. Now, I didn’t know what I wanted to do after high school except write books and compose music. Even Amber knew those things are hard to live on. So, I guess I didn’t have any practical ideas of my own. My parents weren’t particularly rich and didn’t pay much attention to me, either. I probably had a few opportunities to get scholarships for college, but wise ol’ Kayla never took those opportunities. Even if I had, a college degree never guaranteed writing books and music would make me successful. My parents often reminded me they’re kicking me out of the house when I turn 18. You’d think that would have motivated me to find a way to support myself when that happens, but it actually just made me too depressed to even try…

  With Amber turning to prostitution and me not having a future, I decided to go talk to you. Figured even you could talk about something less depressing. I found you in the back yard playing random tunes on your guitar. I had completely forgotten I brought my guitar too, so I grabbed mine from the car then joined you. I also brought my newest song. It didn’t have a name at the time, nor was it finished. You liked it, though. You liked it a lot. When we were playing, you kept looking at me. You gave me this smile I’ve never seen before; not just from you, from anyone. You looked happy; like, genuinely happy.

  Everyone gathered on the roof five minutes before midnight. They had their pots and pans and fireworks, you had nothing. Amber gave me some sparklers, and I offered one to you but you didn’t accept. You just kept looking at me. When midnight struck, and the new millennium came, while everyone celebrated, you gently grabbed both my arms, turned me around, and kissed me.

  I, admittedly, liked how it felt for a moment. When I realized what I was doing, though, that overpowered the other feelings and I pulled away. You looked at me for a moment before walking away. I said nothing. Words escaped me…

  A few minutes later I found out that you had left the party without us. When it was time to leave, we searched for you along the sidewalk, but never found you. By three in the morning, I got back home and first thing I did was go to the Krohn house. Michael, who I think was one of Phoebe’s bodyguards, answered the door and said you had made it home.

  For the next month I thought about what happened. I didn’t speak to you nor the rest of your family. You must have been too embarrassed, and I sure know I was too confused. We apparently weren’t friends anymore. Still related, and next door neighbors, but not friends. One of these days, I knew, we would have to see each other at some point, but not as long as we could help it.

  Now, it’s the year 2000, my senior year. After my mom died, my depression only worsened, and I still don’t know what I will do after high school. My grades are poor. I know I won’t accumulate enough credits to graduate on time. I lost my best friend, the one who I related to the most, had the most fun with, and who I felt I knew better than anyone, even m
yself. My mom’s dead, my dad turned into a verbally abusive drunk… I clearly have no future. What do I have? Good looks, apparently. Maybe that’s all I’m supposed to be: just some pretty face, a pair of tits, a tight ass, and a vagina. The better things in life never last. My stories never got anywhere, same as my music. If only one person ever enjoyed them, that’s a clear testament to their quality…

  Amber dropped out a few days ago to pursue her ‘career.’ I still hope she only means it to be a starting point and not anything permanent. Ever since she dropped out, I’ve been locking myself up in my room thinking about things. I do my best thinking when I’m writing. Helps clear things up in my head. After writing all this stuff down, I’ve come to realize how much of an impact you’ve had on my life since I moved to Oregon. I didn’t think I had this much to say about you, but I suppose it makes sense. It’s too bad we’re related, and it’s too bad your sister warped your head and now you’re desensitized to the idea of intimate relations with relatives. I suppose technically our entire species has a history of cousin-fucking, so it can’t be all that disgusting. Technically, all humans are cousins to each other.