While He's At War

       To me, it was easy to tell them apart. All the other girls in our class would tease that the two were identical, and could only be sorted apart when you made them play sports, since Sammy was hopelessly clumsy, but to me it was always clear who was who.

            When Sammy smiled, a dimple appeared on his left cheek. Tommy had a small pink scar just at the crease of his right eyelid, only noticeable when he closed them. It arched like the Brooklyn Bridge over the East river, which oddly enough, was the same colour as his eyes. He claims he doesn’t remember how he got the scar, but I’m sure it was from some fight he got into.

            I’m afraid now, because since Tommy has been gone for six months, I’m starting to mistake Sammy for him. It is like I forgot what he looked like, but his living portrait is walking around my home now, and I can only picture his face when I’m in front of his brother. I’m ashamed to admit that, but I also can’t pull myself away from these daily visits that Sammy insists on following through. 

            “Tommy asked me to take care of you while he was gone, and I intend to keep my word.” As much as I do love Sammy as my own brother, today it feels more like he’s tainting me, just by having that face. 

            “How are your classes going?” Sammy asks. I go to pour him another cup of tea, but he pushes his hand over the cup to stop me from tilting the kettle forward. 

            “They’re fine. Challenging, but rewarding. Of course, daddy is just in a fit about my major being in journalism. Well, the fact I’m at college at all has daddy flustered. He’s afraid I’ll miss my opportune time to marry one of his partner’s sons, and will be a spinster by 25.” I let the sound of hot water tipping into my porcelain cup fill the silence between us, “How has work been for you?”

            “Oh”, he huffs, “Easier than ever to sell gazettes, what with everyone wanting to keep up with the war. And don’t worry, one day, you’ll have your stories in the papers, too.” 

            I smile at his compliment, but we keep quiet to ourselves for a few ticks of the grandfather clock. He looks around, and I’m sure he is attempting to find something new to talk about, but nothing in my parent’s parlour room is new. The whole house is decorated with furniture and trinkets inherited by my grandparents. It’s all kept in immaculate condition, thanks to the efforts of our help staff, but it is quite embarrassing having friends over, and it looks like you live in a stage production of The Importance ofBeing Ernest. 

            “Have you heard back from any of the colleges you applied to?” I ask.

            He shuffles the handle of his teacup between his thumbs, “I haven’t applied yet. I don’t see the point.”

            “Sammy, you must! The sooner you submit your application forms, the earlier you will know which school you will go to, which will make moving and housing arrangements easier,” 

            “I have no doubt about all that, Katrina, but I see no point in getting my hopes up by an acceptance letter, only to have to refuse the school because I do not have the tuition money. The only opportunity I could get to have enough for a college was through the G.I. bill, but now that can’t happen.” Another stretch of silence.

            “Tommy did what he did to protect you,” I tell him.

            “I know, I know. And, I am doing what I can to help mother and my sisters, I can’t begrudge Tommy for any of this.” One of our maids comes in to remove the china plates with the untouched cucumber sandwiches. 

            “I’m sure daddy wouldn’t be opposed to support you with a small loan,”

            “No, thank you. I appreciate it, but I don’t need to be in debt to my brother’s girlfriend’s father.”

            “Would it be different if it was your sister-in-law’s father’s money?”

            “No, only if it was my father-in-law would I feel more comfortable about the idea.” Luckily the maid was no longer in the room to hear that comment, or see the blush on my face.

            “I’m sorry, that was out of line,”

            “No, no,” I cut him off, “I knew what you meant. You meant nothing by it. I will respect your wishes, but do know that if you need any help from me, you can ask.” 

            “I do, and, I will.” Now, neither of us knows where to make eye contact. He finally speaks up, “You said sister-in-law, does that mean that you and Tommy are,”

            “Engaged? No, no, I was just saying, as a circumstantial example.”

            “Oh, ‘cause, I didn’t know if he wrote something to you recently, or before he left?”

            “No, he hasn’t said anything of the sort…has he written anything to you about…”

            “No, actually, I haven’t received a letter for, oh gosh, about a month now.”

            “Really? Neither have I. You don’t think something has,”

            “No, I don’t think that. I think the post is just slow, is all. Nothing to fret about.”

            “When you do hear word about him, could you ring around here, as soon as you receive it?”

            “Yes, of course, and you the same?”

            I nod to confirm his request, and we check our calendars for the next lunch date we can make with each other. I walk him to the door, and while he grabs his coat and hat from the rack, for a moment my heart drops from my chest, because I see Tommy again. The dam I was using to hold back my tears crumbles, and I try to cover it up with my hand, but Sammy already sees it in the mirror reflection.

            He turns to me and asks, “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say…”

            “No, you’re alright. I just, miss him, is all, and you too look so much alike.”

            “Yeah, well, twins and all…” he hands me his handkerchief. It is a dark red with a paisley design around the border, but I can see dark stains throughout the fabric despite it smelling clean. I thank him, and before I realize it, I am leaning in to hold him. The action was so spontaneous, I didn’t even recognise I’d done it until I felt his arms wrap around my shoulders. 

            His torso and arms do not feel as big as Tommy’s was, … or is. I don’t know if Tommy still feels the same to hold anymore. I don’t know if anything will be the same anymore. I close my eyes tighter to fight back the tears, which causes me to hold tighter to Sammy’s body. He does the same in return, and I hear his breath rising and falling steadily, and I think, I could fall asleep to this rhythm. 

            And when my thoughts drift to a place they shouldn’t go, I step away from him with a start. He also seems surprised by my sudden separation and quickly reaches for the door to leave. 

            “Thank you, umm,” he switches his hand back and forth from the handle to his hat, trying to figure out which he should attend to first. “Thanks for having had me today. For seeing me, I mean. Umm, and until next time, Katrina,” he tips his hat to me, and closes the door behind him. I watch his silhouette through the stained glass window shrink into the distance, then hold the handkerchief to my cheek to dab the remaining tears away.