Reflect him back

Reflect him back.

Ron looked at the mirror hanging from the light blue wall. The reflection showed him through his soul, showed him himself. A little feeling inside him said to look away, it didn’t wish to see him.

He rubbed over the scar on his cheek, trying to relieve the itch that had developed as it healed. Surprisingly, Max, his perfectly identical twin, had got the same scar. The dark brown scar, a little longer than an inch, had just added a new element of alikeness to the twins.

“You know kids,” their father once said when they were four, “You boys have shared your brains into halves. My Maxi’s got the good boy part and my Ronnie got the naughty kid.”

The little boys stared with amazement, and there was the touch of realization in their eyes. They could do nothing but believe their pa’s joke. After all, they both themselves knew Ron was the naughty kid and Max, the obedient one.

They were perfectly identical, except for a dark birth mark on Max’s elbow. Their mother always spotted the difference by their behaviors. No one knew who was the older one of them. By the time they had reached home, their mother couldn’t remember the difference. To reduce the troubles, Ron and Max were gifted with name chains on their birthday.

“Mine’s got my name. See, it says Max.” The little boy would say.

“Mine is butter, Mas. Look at mine. It looks so pwafet.” Ron would start with a broken pronunciation.

“You have your name in yours too, Ron. We are same.” Max would try to explain.

“Yes! Yes I see. Here it is. It says R-O-N, won.”

“It’s Ron, not Won.”

Max would always be the best friend Ron needed, and Ron would be the nerd Max could talk to forever. The world never created something to break them apart.

“It is just like there’s a mirror by your side, Max.” Their class teacher had once said. “I find it really hard to say who is who.”

Together, they would fight the bullies at school, together, they would go skating and together they were learning to drive.

Ron unbuttoned his coat and comfortably settled on his bed. He looked around the room, it was filled with Max’s medals. On the side table, was a picture frame. He picked it up. It had a photo of him and Max standing together, laughing at the camera. Ron looked at it and smiled, his heart was filled with those sweet memories.

Their was a soft knock on the room’s door. Ron got up to look, when his mother came in.

“It’s time, Ronnie. Let’s go.” She said and walked out, waiting near the door.

He looked at the mirror as he buttoned his black coat. His eyes were met by the same sight of disgust. Quickly, he walked out of the room, trying to run from his reflection. He gave the room a last look as he closed it, when he saw his mother standing there.

She walked to him and softly patted his cheek, smiling. There were tears in her dark eyes. A few seconds later, she gave up, and the noiseless weeping came out in a huge breath and her tears fell. Ron hugged her tight, comforting her. He knew she saw Max in him.

“You look like Maxi.” She said, smiling as she wept with joy. She could see her dead son.

“It’s alright ma. Everything will be okay.” Ron said, rubbing her back.

He had just said those words to console her. After the accident, words did not affect him. He himself didn’t know how it felt when things were right. He only knew how things were when he was with his brother. There were no feelings. All that remained in him was confusion.

Why did he live? Why didn’t Max? Max should have lived. Everybody needed him. He, needed him.

They silently drove to the church for the funeral.

“Max was a great son…..” He heard his father say to everyone.

Yes, Max was a great son, he was a great brother, but why, why did death do them apart? Why did Ron, who once supported himself on his shoulder, was now his pall bearer? Is that how he was supposed to pay for their friendship? Why?

After the accident, they both shared the same scar, but why did the accident injure Max’s heart? Why did it stop?

They were learning to drive, with Max handling the wheel, Ron remembered. The car broke down, and before they could come out, an out of control truck hit them. Max tried to turn the wheel, but it was useless. The truck rolled their vehicle before crashing itself into a store. Max was still breathing at that time, he was alive.

“Ronnie. Are you okay? Look at me.” He remembered him say.

“Yeah, I am okay. How are you?” He had asked.

“I can’t come out, my seat belt is stuck.” Max had tried pulling it out, but it was jammed.

“I will get help.”

That was the last time Ron spoke to his twin. He dragged himself out of the car. Help arrived within five minutes, but it was too late for Max. The doctors had tried bringing him

back, but it was just useless.

Max was gone, and so was their promise of being together, forever. Ron looked at his father, he saw a tear in the corner of his eyes as he spoke.

“May almighty bless him.”

Ron hated himself. He wished it was he who was dead, and not his beloved brother. Max was perfect. He helped everyone. There was nothing that he didn’t know. It would have been better if he had lived, everybody needed him. Something in him said that the world was better with Max, and it was he who should have been dead. Ron knew that his presence was not going to matter, but Max’s was.

Max was supposed to be alive. But death never lets you pick, does it?

Back in his house- it was not a home anymore, Ron looked at Max’s chain. His mother wanted to bury Max’s belongings, so she put them all in a box. The medals, which Ron had decorated with pride on the walls, were now in it. The room was not beautiful anymore. The dull blue of the room wasn’t bothering him, but lack of Max’s presence was. Ron couldn’t control himself, and he pulled the chain out when nobody was watching.

His days were not the same anymore. Ron lost his appetite. He ate just so that his parents could think he was alright. Dinner didn’t taste good. Things were different, things were strange. Ron wasn’t even trying to forget his brother. Everyday, every night, his words would come back to him, leaving him in tears. He couldn’t forget him, the mirror, wouldn’t let him forget it.

* * *

It was almost a month now. He wasn’t minding the mirror. He had stopped looking at it. He had learned to run away from the strange piece of glass. The mirror which reflected Ron himself, the mirror, which reminded him of his dead brother.

One warm night, Ron crawled to his bed after dinner. After a tiring day, it wasn’t difficult for him to get asleep.

Around one, he woke up, sweating. His heart was beating faster than running horses. He saw the accident . He dreamt of it. He saw his brother dying again. He saw the tears again.

Ron stood up madly, switching the light on. Flick, and the mirror reflected the light on his face. He looked.

The hate was coming back to get his throat.

Shivering, Ron sat on the floor. He could hear his brother’s voice. Their promises, their jokes, their laughs, everything echoed in his soul.

Slowly, Ron pulled Max’s chain from his pocket. With a deep sigh, he wore it. The name on the chain hung with his. It made a small clink. Again, he looked up.

This time, he wasn’t disgusted. Why should he be? He could see Max. He didn’t see himself in the mirror. He saw his buddy, smiling at him. A strange feeling dawned upon Ron, he felt his brother’s presence, everything felt peaceful, the fear was gone. Max was staying with him, as promised, forever.

Even death couldn’t part him with his twin.

THE END