Twins

by Marcy Dermansky

  We were only supposed to interrupt our parents at work in case of emergencies.

  “You have to call,” Melanie said, holding out her cell phone. “It’s a mother’s proudest moment.”

  “Until you get married,” Brittany said.

  “Or get into an Ivy League college,” Melanie said.

  I pictured my mother at her desk at her midtown law office. She was always busy, shuffling papers, talking on the phone, scamming money and summer houses from cheating husbands, bargaining for custody rights, demanding outlandish amounts of child support. It made my mother giddy, the settlements she got for her clients.

  “I guess I should,” Chloe said. “She’d want to know.”

  “About your period?” I said. “You think that is important?”

  Now they were all looking at me. They were morons. I did not see why Chloe would want to waste her time.

  “So what?” I said. “Big deal. Chloe’s a woman now. Tenth graders can knock her up. She can have little babies that suck teenage milk from her breasts. You think that’s worth disrupting a busy lawyer’s day?”

  Chloe narrowed her eyes at me. It was an ugly look, the way Lisa Markman stared at me when I read out loud in English class.

  “She’s jealous,” Lisa said. “It’s pathetic.”

  Every time I had the urge to hurt Lisa Markman, I thought of her father. He was tall, taller than any person I had ever seen.

  “You’re such retards,” I said, staring at Lisa. She stared right back. She was also bigger than me. She looked at me like she knew how much I hated her and she didn’t care. I wanted her dead. She had no right to whisper secrets into Chloe’s ear and invite her to the movies. “You make such a big deal out of something so ordinary. Biology. I got my period yesterday. Big whoop-dee-whoop. It’s not broadcast news. It’s no accomplishment. It’s something mammals do.”

  Chloe tilted her head to the side, looking at me the way Daisy did when something confused her. She had to know that I was lying. Because Chloe did everything first. We both knew this. But I would not be the only girl in the eighth grade who had not gotten her period. Chloe would have to back me. She would have to prove her loyalty. She would not be a giggling retard girl. I would not allow it.

  I nodded at Chloe. Waiting.

  “Yesterday,” I said. “I took one of our dear mother’s tampons. So what?”

  “You are so telling a lie,” Lisa said. Lisa Markman thought she was beautiful like her mother, the dead fashion model. Her black T-shirt spelled out “Hot Babe” in silver glitter.

  “She’s lying,” Melanie said.

  “Chloe,” Lisa said. “Your twin sister is so not cool.”

  I rubbed my tattoo. Chloe and I stared at each other. Chloe’s pink lip gloss slid from her hand to the floor. I watched it roll under the sink.

  “I wouldn’t waste my time lying to you,” I said to Lisa.

  Brittany got on her hands and knees and picked up Chloe’s lip gloss.

  “It’s okay,” Melanie said, patting Chloe’s shoulder. “We know you are not a liar.”

  Lisa put the cap back on her purple Magic Marker.

  “I can’t think of anything worse than being a twin,” she said.

  “An identical twin,” Brittany said. “That’s worse.”

  I punched my fist against the tampon vending machine. My knuckles turned red; pain shot up through my arm to the top of my skull. I sat down on the floor. For a second all I could see was black. I could hear the drip of a leaky faucet. I looked at Chloe. She was biting her lip. I would wait, I would wait for Chloe to defend me. My hand throbbed. I didn’t know what to do. I could punch Lisa Markman in her big, ugly face. I could rip off Chloe’s pink, baby doll T-shirt, reveal my name, my name, etched into Chloe’s pale white skin. I had ownership rights. Chloe was mine.

  “It makes sense,” Chloe said finally. “We are twins.”

  My heart started beating fast. I was so relieved. She understood. Of course, she could only choose me.

  “Identical twins,” I said. “Same genetic material. DNA. You can’t mess with DNA.”

  “She didn’t even tell you, your identical twin sister, when she got her period?” Lisa Markman said.

  Chloe shrugged.

  “Twins have this way of understanding one another,” she said. “We don’t have to always tell each other things. It’s hard to explain.”

  Chloe walked up to Lisa Markman and reached for the purple Magic Marker. She wrote my name on the wall. My skin flushed with pleasure. My knuckles were throbbing. I’d bang a thousand tampon machines to protect Chloe from evil forces.

  Chloe had chosen me.

  I nodded coolly at Lisa. Bitch, I thought. Cunt, whore. Her days were numbered. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. I passed out on the cold bathroom floor, and when I came to, Chloe was holding a warm maxipad to my forehead.

  “Always a drama queen,” she said, softly, so that no one else could hear.

  Chloe did call our mother. She talked to her assistant, who offered her congratulations. Our mother was taking a deposition and could not be disturbed.

  “Melanie’s mother took her shopping,” Chloe said as we walked home from school. “She bought her a red cocktail dress.”

  “I’ll take us shopping,” I said. “I’ll make Daniel take us to the mall. We can go crazy with Dad’s credit card.”

  I whipped one of his credit cards from my back pocket.

  Chloe stared at me.

  “Where did you get that?”

  I put the card back in my pocket.

  “Forget about it,” I said. “You never saw it. You know nothing. Let’s take Daisy to the park.”

  Chloe shrugged. She never liked it when I stole from our parents. She also didn’t like to play with Daisy. The dog was always running in mud, getting Chloe’s clothes dirty.

  My parents were doing a high-profile divorce. An actress and a rock star. They’d been together for eight years. My parents held meetings with both the stars’ publicists and private detectives. My mother’s assistant called to say she would be on the five o’clock news. Chloe insisted that we watch. There she was, my mother, walking down the steps of the courthouse with her client at her side. The movie star was wearing dark sunglasses. My mother said the offer on the table was insufficient.

  “She looks good on TV,” Chloe said.

  Chloe was wrong. Our mother looked like a nobody. She looked liked mashed potatoes next to the famous actress. The actress had adopted all three of her children to keep her figure.

  By eight o’clock, we were hungry. We never learned how to make our own dinner.

  “The no-food diet,” Chloe said with a shrug.

  I thought of the credit card, the food we could buy. Chloe did her homework while we waited.

  “Do you need protein?” I said, thinking of Chloe’s period, the lost blood.

  “I need food,” Chloe said, closing her math book. “I need regular parents.”

  She was wrong. She was wrong about our parents like she’d been wrong about the tattoos. Our mother and father could pay for Chloe’s college and drive us places on the weekends. That was all we needed. I had the credit card. I could buy Chloe anything she wanted to eat. All Chloe needed was me.

  Daniel came down the stairs into the kitchen, dark hair in his eyes, stubble on his chin. He was wearing a red T-shirt with a picture of a bomb and Japanese characters underneath it. He grabbed a Häagen-Dazs bar from the freezer.

  “Can you believe them?” he said. “Defending the rich and famous while the precious twins starve.”

  Daniel got into loud screaming fights with my parents, which was a good thing, because it focused their energy on him. Chloe and I watched him eat ice cream. I would only have an ice-cream bar if Chloe had one, but Chloe wouldn’t eat food that contained fat calories. She wouldn’t eat ice cream. She was on a diet, which was practically as bad as liking Lisa Markman. She shoved her hands in her pockets.

  Then our par
ents came home, rushing into the kitchen, carrying big bags full of food.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” my mother said, taking off her heels.

  “Lasagna,” my father said. “Salad. Belated congratulations.”

  Lasagna was my favorite food. Lasagna for our periods seemed like a good deal. Daniel brought a second Häagen-Dazs bar to the table.

  “None of that for me,” he said, pointing to the tray of lasagna. “Tomato sauce reminds me of identical twin blood. Strong enough to fuel a rocket ship.”

  My mother laid down her fork.

  “This is an important day in a girl’s life.”

  My mother held up her glass of wine. For some reason, she looked at me.

  “To Sue,” she said.

  Chloe frowned. I knew she was thinking, What about me? But I also didn’t like the way my mother said my name either, as if Chloe’s menstrual success was not a surprise. I wondered what I would do when I actually got my period. I had no idea how to use a tampon. The idea of it was too gross.

  “And to Chloe,” I said.

  “Of course,” my mother answered. “Sue and Chloe. It’s an important day for you both.”

  We were identical twins, but the expectations were different. Chloe got better grades, brushed her hair, expressed interest in our parents’ work. And I didn’t. That didn’t make me less smart. I was saving my energy. School was boring, so I didn’t pay attention. I didn’t see why the parents couldn’t bask in our achievements as a unit, instead of always making distinctions. When Chloe made the honor roll, they gave her money. I got nothing.

  My father cleared his throat.

  “An important day,” he said. He reached for his wallet, giving us each a one-hundred-dollar bill. This was the best part about our parents’ busy careers: the constant infusions of cash. I grinned.

  Daniel snorted.

  My father turned to him.

  “You get your period?” he said. “What did you accomplish today?”

  Daniel snapped the stick from his ice-cream bar in half.

  “I cut myself shaving,” he said. There was a Band-Aid on his chin to prove it. He was so ugly, my brother. “That’s a milestone,” he said.

  My mother offered him a twenty. Daniel snatched the bill. He always got less, which made sense to me.

  I smiled to myself. The day had been a strain, but now Chloe and I were home, eating delicious dinner, accepting well-earned parental tokens of love. I felt safe at home. Mostly our parents weren’t around, and I liked it that way. Daniel ignored us, reading books about serial killers and Nazis, practicing the guitar. Daisy had chewed all the cushions of the living room couch. The house was a mess, but it was ours. Mine and Chloe’s. The nightmare of school would slip away, and Chloe and I would play board games or watch TV. Sometimes I’d let Chloe brush the tangles out of my hair. We were happy at home.

  I hummed, eating my lasagna. I loved to eat lasagna. I felt good with money in my back pocket. I’d attached a maxipad to my underwear in case my period started. I reached around my back to touch my tattoo.

  “Why does Sue always rub her back?” Daniel said.

  My father frowned.

  “Do you have a skin condition?” he said. “I represent an excellent dermatologist. I got him joint custody. I’m sure he’d take a look at you.”

  My father pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He loved cashing in favors. He thought nothing of disturbing a doctor at home when it could wait until the next day.

  “No,” I said. I put both hands around my water glass. “There’s no problem.”

  Daniel grinned, watching me, knowing that he had made me squirm, even if he didn’t know why. He would go off to college next year, and then Chloe and I could relax.

  Chloe picked at her lasagna. I knew what she was thinking. Lasagna was fattening. Lisa Markman was on a diet. Melanie Meyer and Brittany Lopez were on diets. So Chloe was also on a diet. All of a sudden, we weren’t thin enough. We had to give up pizza and ice cream and potato chips for no reason at all. If Chloe lost any more weight, she would be thinner than me, and we wouldn’t look the same.

  “Isn’t this good?” I said to Chloe. “Lasagna,” I said. “Look.” I took a bite of lasagna, and then another. “Look,” I said to Chloe. “Watch me eat.”

  “Stop it, Sue,” my father said. “Let Chloe eat.”

  “Sue,” my mother said. “Leave your sister in peace. Let us enjoy our dinner.”

  “Freakoid,” Daniel said.

  Chloe took a sip of water.

  “Look at me.” I took another bite of lasagna. “Look.”

  Chloe’s face was strained. She had a choice: she could listen to my parents or she could be loyal to me. She nodded, as if to herself, and then she started to eat. I took a bite of lasagna. Chloe took a bite of lasagna. I took a bite, then Chloe took a bite. She knew we had to weigh the same to be identical.

  Chloe needed me. She couldn’t stand up to peer pressure on her own. I would not let her succumb to diets like the other idiot girls.

  “Good,” I said to Chloe, nudging her with my elbow.

  “All right,” she said, nudging me back.

  That night, I woke up at three in the morning.

  I had eaten too much. I stuck my stomach out, pushing it up and feeling it curve past my pelvis bones. I didn’t understand how it could get so big after just one meal. Chloe had finally eaten, but still, I’d had more. I always ate more. I got out of bed and snuck into the bathroom. I knelt in front of the toilet and stuck my finger down my throat. Out came the lasagna. Tears welled in my eyes; though this was the third time I had forced myself to throw up, I still hadn’t gotten used to the taste of bile in my throat. Chloe should have never gotten her period.

  It seemed so unspeakably sad that we had to grow up.

  Chloe was still sleeping when I snuck back into our room. Her life was easier. She didn’t have anything to keep her awake. She worried about small, stupid things like her grades and friends and whether her hair was clean and shiny. My mouth tasted like vomit even after I brushed my teeth. My throat hurt. I knelt on the floor next to Chloe, watching her sleep.

  She lay on her side, cradling an old teddy bear in her arms. Her pretty blond hair stretched out behind her on the pillow. If I stared hard enough, I could see her blanket rise and fall. Right now, blood was twisting down the tubes, deep inside her body. The biology was out of my control. I wanted to sleep the way Chloe slept.

  Chloe opened her eyes. “Go away, Sue,” she said.

  She flipped over so that I was looking at the back of her head.

  I wanted to climb into Chloe’s bed. Put my mouth in her untangled hair. Instead, I got up from the floor. The only way to get rid of vomit mouth was ice cream.

  Daniel was in the kitchen with the dog. He was reading a book with a picture of a black man wearing square glasses on the cover. My brother didn’t like to read normal books.

  “Do African Americans also like to torture twins?” I asked.

  I went straight to the freezer, not bothering to wait for his answer. I got myself a chocolate chocolate-almond-covered Häagen-Dazs ice-cream bar.

  “Throw up again?”

  I stared at Daniel. He couldn’t possibly know. I only threw up in the middle of the night, when everyone was sleeping. Daniel kept reading, but I could see him looking at me from behind his book. Daisy wagged her tail. It thumped on the floor.

  “What are you talking about?” I said.

  There was a plate of cold lasagna on the table. Daniel took a sip of his drink. It was whiskey. I would remember this; I would use it against him when I needed it.

  “Why aren’t you sleeping?” I said.

  “This is my favorite time of the day,” he said. He took another sip of his drink. I bit into my ice-cream bar. “Dark. Quiet. Everyone quiet in their beds, sleeping.”

  I did not know what to think. He was supposed to be asleep. He was not supposed to hear me in the bathroom or see me sneaking ice-cream bar
s. I wanted him to stop noticing everything. He put down his book, looking straight at me. It was stupid as hell for me to eat more after I’d thrown up the lasagna. I could never keep up with Chloe this way.

  “Do you want one?” I said to Daniel.

  “Sure,” he said, and I tossed him an ice-cream bar.

  I never spent this long alone with my brother. I didn’t like to look at him. He was dark and we were fair. There was an uneven scattering of facial hairs, the Band-Aid on his chin.

  “You didn’t get your period, did you?” he said.

  I frowned.

  “I know you didn’t.”

  Somehow Daniel knew things. He knew about the throwing up, he’d guessed about my period. He watched me with Chloe. I sat down at the table. Daisy rearranged herself at my feet.

  “I most certainly did get my period,” I said. “It’s not like I would talk to you about it.”

  “You barely talk to me at all,” he said.

  “You don’t talk to me either.”

  It had never occurred to me that Daniel might want to talk to me. Daniel hated us. When we were little, he used to hide our stuffed animals, and then he laughed when we cried. He made up stories about evil Nazis to upset Chloe. He spied on us.

  “Do you want a drink?” Daniel said.

  I was surprised. I shook my head no and regretted it immediately.

  Daniel and I finished our ice-cream bars in silence. I kept sneaking looks at him. Friend or enemy? I wondered how long he had been drinking my parents’ booze.

  “I got my period yesterday,” I said.

  Daniel nodded.

  “I’m glad for you,” he said. “Otherwise, it would probably be hard. With Chloe always being first.”

  Daniel put his popsicle stick on the table. It was a kind thing to say. I hated him for it. I didn’t ever want to seem less than Chloe. We were twins, identical twins. We should have been on TV, selling shampoo and Doublemint gum. Daniel shouldn’t have been able to tell us apart. But when I came downstairs, he knew right away that I was Sue. Even though Chloe and I wore the same Victoria’s Secret satin, pink nightshirt. He knew.

  “I didn’t know that you like whiskey,” I said.

  Daniel held up his glass to me, like a toast. My hands were empty.