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"Is Abigail nearby?”
“No, she’s gone for work.”
“Already?”
“Yeah, she left here earlier than usual because she forgot her uniform at Toby’s.”
“Did she admit that’s where she was at last night?’
“No. She tried to deny it. But, I know. And...I think…she knows. Too. About—”
“Last night?”
“Yeah…Yeah.”
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t have to say anything. We’re twins. Our eyes see each other's hesitations mirroring back.
“Poetic.”
“Shut up.”
“Mhm, but you’re the one giggling.”
“Stop, I do not giggle. And you’re the one who said you liked how I sounded anyway.”
“I did—I do…Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, I just needed to take a breath for a second. It’s been… you know…a lot. I’m a little dizzy this morning. I don’t know. Sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
“Okay,”
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Matthew, Matthew, Matthew.”
“Yeah?”
“Can you say it again? Like how you did yesterday? Please?”
“Listen to me; everything is going to be okay. And if not now, then it will be. I’ll be right here, and it will be okay. We got this, me and you.”
“How can you sound so sure?’
“How?”
“Yes,”
“Your voice is all soft,"
"Is it?"
"Yes. And I know it will be okay because I’m determined for it be. It’s like that thing I told you in the car on Tuesday. There is a string tied to our throats and hands, and it may feel like we can’t breathe now, but the string is red and it’s not because fate tied us together but because we did. We chose ourselves. I think that means more than anything else, don’t you?”
“Who’s the poet now…”
“Your sniffling sort of cuts back the insult. Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
“I think they’re happy tears. I cried last night, too.”
“I know. I felt it.”
“Did it scare you?”
“A little at first. I was worried I was hurting you. But then you whispered my name, and it sounded like a prayer.”
“Matthew, Matthew, Matthew. I don't want to be alone anymore."
“You won't be, I promise. Do you want me to come over? You’re twisting the phone cord again, I can tell. It worries me when you’re anxious and by yourself.”
“I know, I know, but we can't. Tim comes home this afternoon and I don’t want him to get any ideas. He gives me this look across the dinner table sometimes. Like he also knows. Everything is so hard around here.”
“I see.”
“But Matthew?”
“Yes?”
“Can you come over when he’s asleep?”
“Of course. Whatever you’d like.”
“Okay. I’m heading to the library this morning anyway, so it’s not like I’ll be all that alone.”
“My nerd.”
“Hey!”
“Kidding. No but really, I love that you study all the time. One of us needs to be the smart one. It won’t be me, hell, we already know that much.”
“Oh, don’t start that again. I hate how that woman gets to you; she doesn’t know a word of what she’s saying. And I don’t care what she or you say: I think you’re brilliant. Plus, you’ve always told me not to say mean things to myself. That applies to you, too.”
“Yeah, but mine are true so it’s different. Still, someone’s got to hire me. We've always got Chicago, right?”
“Matthew…”
“Okay, okay, but before you go: did you know you have a birthmark on the inside of your knee? It was the first thing I thought about when I woke up this morning. Like I saw it in a dream only for it to be a recent memory.”
“You did? And I do?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty.”
“You’re embarrassing.”
“But you also snore.”
“Liar.”
“And drool.”
“Wait really?”
“No, I’m just kidding again. Heh, I always get you. You’re actually a cute sleeper. Face of an Angel.”
“I’m gonna punch you in the face when you come over.”
“Please not the money maker!”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t”
“No, I don’t. I don’t think I ever could… Stop don’t do that breathy laugh thing you do, you’re making fun of me.”
“Am not. Are you still twisting the wire cord?”
“Oh... no, not as much now.”
“Good. Please drive safe. And call me at the library if anything happens.”
“I know, I know. I will. I’m sorry you have to take care of me all the time. I’m a mess. Such a mess. Matthew, I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. If I’ll ever…”
“Stop. You’re not a mess. And if you are a mess, then shit, I’m one too. We’ll be messes together. I’ll write a story about it. You’ll be able to see us the way I see it.”
“I like it when you write. Will you read it to me when it’s done?”
“Of course. Whatever you’d like, sweetheart.”
“Matthew?”
“Yeah?”
“I…feel such an ache behind my ribs. But the good kind. Like the happy tears from earlier. I think my heart is so full of you that it’s not even mine anymore. I don’t know. I guess what I mean to say is—thank you. For taking care of me. Even when we were
little, you always took such care of me. I think I’ve known since then...that I…Anyway, last night, when you swept my hair back as if I was delicate, I felt important. It was so nice."
“You are important. The most. And I've always known it, too. It’s holding my breath underwater or closing my eyes in the sun. Natural. I’m not as good with words when they’re not written down first... so I hope none of that sounded stupid. My chest aches
too, you know.”
“That wasn’t stupid. It never could be. Thanks for calling me, by the way. It’s good to hear your voice.”
"Of course. I wish I didn't have to leave so soon. The sunrise was beautiful this morning, though.”
"I bet. I can imagine the way you looked at it. The way I see things change whenever I catch how your eyes linger on something. There’s a soft blue tint, then. You try to be all tough until you look at a sunrise.”
“Or you.”
“Stop…”
“One day you won’t get all flustered when I compliment you.”
“And that'll be a day to come. Okay, I'll see you when you get back from work. Oh, and don't forget the latch to the window is-"
"Is broken. I'll come around the back."
"Good."
"Good. Oh, wait, and Elliot?”
“Yeah?”
“I…Me too. What you were going say about back then, earlier... Elliot I...”
“It’s okay, Matthew. I know. I know.”
-
Somewhere outside 1992 Chicago city, two individuals suspended between boyhood and adulthood hung up their phones and thought about the moments yet to arrive.
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