Oh brother what have I done to yow?

“I wanna kill myself!” Patrick jokingly shouted after he was obnoxious with the long, tedious science homework presented to him after the last period of school. To his reply, his 3 minutes older twin brother ironically mentioned if he was going to kill him as for sure they didn’t look as identical as you’d suppose a regular twin would look. Patrick, built like a man-mountain with unshorn twisted hair almost forming curls with a combination of wavy hair. Jackson, meanwhile, wasn’t as bulked up as his brother but was layered with skinniness from bottom to the mid-region. His upper body is slightly built with a muscle of thick fat. “Good job Pat, what’s on your mind now” he roared with a clear voice. Upon listening to his words, he redirected the question to Jackson to prove he doesn’t have much to do.

“Well me, I’ve got a date with Charlotte this evening”

“The new neighbor?” Patrick questioned while Jackson nodded, resting his eyes on his phone screen.

Thought we would play football this evening, Patrick imagined. A look of disappointment, not because he couldn’t play football with his brother and undoubtedly take the joy of beating him but because he was going out for another date with a different person this time. Patrick rolled his eyes, as if he was in a movie, and imagined how his brother got all of the attention from his schoolmates, especially the girls; he was invited to parties first, while Patrick himself never got an invitation, however, Jackson would acquaint him to come for the parties as a sign of empathy. How he would be part of groups of hanging out after school, whilst Patrick was left behind like a forgotten teddy bear by its owner. It was all turning out ironic for Patrick in his mind, he couldn’t believe why everyone would be after Jackson and not him, after all Jackson wasn’t the appealing figure like he was charming and elegant wasn’t his rapture. Patrick believes that he should be the one in his brother’s shoes, getting all the focus, melting into women’s minds, leading the hangout groups.

“What makes the girls like you so much? '' Patrick once inquired of Jackson. He’d just smile at Patrick and shrug off, indicating he was just confident enough to bestow the needs of a girl. On any occasion, Jackson looked to deliver a stellar impression with whomever he met. The smoothness in his voice sounded like a violin buzzing in an opera. All this created a source of envy for Patrick against his brother. 

The thought of ruining his dinner plans came to his unsolicited mind. He had to do something to make Jackson feel he isn't always perfect. An idea snapped in his head after giving himself a lot of thought. He decided to overdose Jackson in the middle of his date by intoxicating him with an excess of alcohol in his food as well as drinks. He could only ponder the outcome of the mess. He again rolled his eyes, imagining the prospect of Jackson causing mayhem in front of Charlotte, freaking her out to think he’s an out of control maniac. As he wondered all of this, he soon noticed Jackson leaving to the bathroom to swap his outfit with an almost baggy yellow shirt and loose grey jeans. It didn’t visualize that bad but to Patrick it seemed a poor fit as he is used to tight muscular fit and hoped his twin could have worn a slim fit instead.

Patrick stood right out of the balcony dressed in his football wear waiting for his brother to leave so as to follow him and execute the plan.

“You are heading to play Pat?”

“Of course, not gonna miss a day bro” he stammered with his squeaky voice which didn’t seem usual. Jackson glared into the darted eyes of his brother and put his pristine hand almost above his face. “Okay see you later” both gave a brotherly handshake leaving Patrick with a sight of betrayal from his end. He recalled times when Jackson would always look out for him, like doing his laundry, sharing his meals when he was a stout child wanting more meat, and inviting him to parties when he was uninvited. A fraction of him felt like this was a bad plan, however jealousy took over as he couldn’t forget the awful feeling he would get under his disconcerting skin.

The plan was on. Jackson took off with his mom’s Camry car. Patrick was waiting for the cab to arrive so he could follow his brother. He did not mention to the ageing driver to follow the car in front of him as it would look doubtful. So he directed the way through pinpointing his fingers and kept his eyes not so far out of reach on Jackson’s car. His car pulled off near Charlotte’s house to pick her up. Of Course it has to be in front of him. For him it seemed like a flex despite the fact Jackson doesn’t know he’s right behind him. He held Charlotte’s fairly white hands accompanied by her long-sleeve river blue dress and scooted her in his car like a gentleman. All this appeared in the presence of Patrick’s unbelievable eyes.

They took off once more and now the destination being the date – ‘Intimate Palace, where lovers meet’. Most people in the town visited regardless if it was a date. The food was impossible to miss if you’re hitting down the road. It was almost 7:15 pm, turning dark immediately which was a huge boost for Patrick since he didn’t want to get noticed easily. Above it all, the street lights weren’t operating. It couldn’t be any better for the evil twin. He paid the bill to the cab driver and quickly entered the opposite end of the restaurant where cooks were present. Before leaving Patrick grasp on few articles like dark shades and an age old magician hat.

Jackson and Charlotte walked through the isle of apple yard and blue berry-like flowers. The two perched down near a thick glass window, the window being right behind Jackson. Chilled drinks were ordered and the food remaining the classic dish of steak and chips was instilled in the waiter's sticky note. Patrick stood ahead of the cook’s door outside, stammering and bleeding in sweat. His mind froze consciously weighing the options of how he would intoxicate Jackson.

Notwithstanding his weakness, Patrick placed his foot inside the kitchen and was caught by the attention of all the chefs. One in particular approached Patrick. This chef resembled the form of alfredo from the movie ‘Ratatouille’ but had a look of absurdity. He was the shepherd of the kitchen that consisted of other sheep (little chefs).  

“Is there any problem with my food sir?!” the chef looked agitatedly at Patrick. The tone spoken out of the chef’s mouth didn’t come across like a question, more like a demand or an insult towards him. The presence of Patrick only meant that the chef was annoyed whether the food was a problem.

“No chef, I…I suppose I’m here because –” his throat soaking in vain before he could even finish. “– I wanted to add a little ingredient in my dish. I suffer from asthma and my practitioner has advised me to add this in every food I consume sir” he said as he was grabbing the bottle that contained the alcohol. The bottle had a golden cover surrounding it, making it difficult for everyone to notice what was inside.

“A fit young man like you doesn't seem like you’ve got asthma” the chef insisted with a sore look, eyebrows bent, showing frustration. “I do sir… I mean chef. I had this when I was a kid. It’s genetic” Patrick answered. On the spur of the moment, the chef agreed to him. That ingrained a cold gust into Patrick’s ears, previously burning in flame. The chef inquired about which dish Patrick was supposed to add the alleged ingredient. This was it. The plan was coming to its final juncture. However Patrick needed to know what his brother had ordered. He couldn’t ask the chefs for every order taken during this time since it’ll bring up suspicion. The moment to be precise needed to be cleared out of the dust in the air and get through the victim’s course. Patrick was palpably aware of what his brother had ordered: the famous smoking steak. Unfortunately, when it comes to being a renowned dish, you’d expect everyone in the restaurant to place an order for it.

“Excuse me” he gushed at one of the few random chefs behind him. “I know I’ve ordered the traditional steak and I’d like it to serve to me personally on a plate which is different from everyone else’s, you know what I mean”

“I don’t want there to be any confusion right, if my dish falls into someone else’s poor hands, it won’t be appropriate” he consoled the chef with a half-smile. The chef nodded and took his order. Patrick sighed in comfort. That came out of nowhere, he thought. That part of the plan wasn’t blueprinted and out of the blue it was executed. He mixed the alcohol with the gravy which would be added to the steak as well as poured a little on the steak itself although in a few amounts in case it would cause speculation within the restaurant he thought. Next he walked towards the entrance door of the kitchen and noticed Jackson and Charlotte, his eyes wide open at that very moment. He then mentioned to the chef he’ll be changing outfits in half an hour. To be specific, ‘oversized yellow shirt and loose grey jeans.’

Couple of minutes passed and the waiter in a dark charcoal suit presented the guests with steaming fluffy steak and iced mint drink. The two dig in as their mouth was oceaning with salvia while on the flip side, Patrick’s awaiting for Jackson to fall under the dark ocean of booze. Another few minutes traveled by and the effect began to take its course of action. He knew as he stood right behind Jackson’s window where he sat. He stood a few meters away in the absence of light. It was heavily noticeable that the way Jackson acted towards his date in front of several families present in the restaurant. The burps coming out of his mouth in long succession, the sudden thumping on the table with loud, tough giggles when Charlotte made a little joke and performing rowdy body languages like throwing his hands in the air to put forward a point while chatting, were all witnessed not just by Patrick but people outside the restaurant who were close enough to the window Jackson was sitting. It was no surprise that Charlotte broke down in embarrassment in front of the fifteen folks around her. She shifted her position and sat next to Jackson to calm him. She pulled his head gently towards her shoulder and told him they should leave. Gradually he was able to come back to his consciousness, not a hundred percent but still having the effect.

“You should leave Charlotte, get a taxi and go home” he told her with a dull voice.

“Well, what about you? I’ll drive us home” Charlotte suggested, but he refused outrightly and persuaded her to take the cab as she did not have a driving license.

“I’ll wait here for a while and call my brother to pick me up. I guess it was headache”

“A headache does not cause you to act like a drunkard. Let me put a complaint against these gits who made the food. Must be food poisoning” she babbled quietly to Jackson.

“Don’t Charlotte. It’ll ruin their brand. I think it’s me. Lunch was pretty stale” he sighed.

By that time, Patrick was already home and enjoying himself a drink in his disordered room. It was the tenth time that he kept recalling the incident where Jackson was out of control. He felt courageous for some reason but most of it was filled with triumph inside. The phone starts to buzz and the name reads ‘Brother’. Grasping the phone near his ear he answered.

“Hey Pat, could you do me a favor and pick me up from Palace’s. I don’t feel really well. Take a bus to here and you could drive us back home” he said.

Patrick wanted to elongate the fun and waste more time with Jackson. Therefore he lied, saying “Hello...Jack, my phone is about to die. I didn’t hear anything. You said Palace?” he immediately hung up. This is bad, Jackson thought but he decided to drive by himself without considering the ramifications. It was 8:30 pm. While he drove down the lane, his eyes began blurring. It felt like he was driving in a black hole. Or space to be exact. The white lights of other cars resembled like stars from far away due to the blurry vision. The star began nearing towards Jackson. The pace started to pick up faster. Jackson’s car was in the middle sight of the star. A huge collision took place in the street. Jackson’s car rode the air and collapsed on the ground turning sideways till it stopped.

An hour passed by since Patrick left home. He came across a large crowd of men surrounding the street along with police officers. As he passed by the crowd slowly, he saw the Toyota Camry being pulled in by a massive truck for fixation. His ears started to burn after watching the car. He pulled over the sideway and ran towards the crowd and cried. His brother was inclined in a stretcher bed that was trudging on the way to the ambulance. His face was bombarded in ooze of blood draining out of his head. Patrick ran to the aid of Jackson and exaggeratingly apologizing to him. He regretted lying to Jackson and instead wished he made his way as soon as possible. The whole family of Patrick and Jackson were waiting in the hospital to get a green light. Patrick laid his subtle head on his sweaty hands, praying in his mind that Jackson comes out alive regardless if he can’t walk for the next five years. All he prayed for is for his brother to stay alive.