The Divided Twin

by M. Billiter

  “Think about it,” I said. “Branson’s always been different. He never lived up to Dad’s expectations, and he’s never gotten past that. And Dad did him no favors. Dad was tough on him, but you were too soft. And I was left in the middle of your chaos to make everything okay. Branson never had a good balance, but don’t for a second think that he didn’t know about his mental illness.”

  “Shit.”

  Shut up.

  “He knew. There’s no way not to know. It’s a little hard to ignore the voices, Mom. Branson knew about Trevor the same way I knew about David. The difference is I know how to keep that shit in check. Your sweet Branson is too soft for that. And for the record, he’s not a diabetic, so stop using that as your excuse. It’s messed up. Branson’s mental. He chose to let that psychopath Trevor run his life and ruin ours.”

  “Where are you?” Her tone was way too maternal, like I was in trouble or something.

  “What?”

  “Aaron, where are you?”

  “I’m in my apartment.” What the fuck?

  “She’s going to lock you up just like she did to Branson.”

  She wouldn’t do that. She loves me.

  “I need you to stay there,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Aaron, promise me you won’t leave.”

  She’s going to send me away.

  The darkness descended upon me, and I began to sink into its inky depths.

  “Aaron, I need you to stay where you are until I can get there.”

  David cut the air with my hand. “Yeah, don’t think that’s going to happen, Tara.”

  32

  Branson

  I walked across the commons toward my car that was parked on the ass-end of campus. A banner stretched across two buildings announcing the winter Mozart music festival.

  Hope loved classical music.

  The banner buoyed back and forth against Wyoming’s wind. If I could reach up and yank it down, I would. I knew the music nerds in my English Lit class thought the music festival was the end-all—but it wasn’t.

  Know what’s cool? Not celebrating a seventeenth-century composer.

  The sky was dark and it wasn’t even noon. Ever since Hope and I broke up, it seemed like the world had turned gray. The semester was finally wrapping up, but I was just going through the motions. At this point, I didn’t even need to go to my classes to pass.

  What am I doing here?

  I grabbed my phone. There was a missed call from my mom but no voice mail. I’d learned that with cancer, no news was good news. I speed-dialed Aaron. The call went directly to voice mail. After I left him a message, I scrolled to the airline app, but the farther I walked away from the commons, the slower it loaded. I stopped moving and waited beside the humanities building for the flights out of Casper to Cleveland to appear on the screen. No surprise that there weren’t any direct flights, but if I got to the airport by two, I could be in Cleveland by seven their time.

  I purchased the ticket, saved it to the app, and smiled. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Aaron’s face when I showed up on his doorstep.

  33

  David and Aaron

  I flipped up my laptop screen and began typing.

  * * *

  A Killer’s End

  * * *

  I know how this has to end. It won’t be fun, but living between sanity and insanity ain’t no picnic. I’ve done things I never thought I was capable of doing, and I’m hurting more people. I hurt my mom, the one person who’s off-limits. I hurt her. Worse, I scared her. She must be losing her mind right now. I have no choice but to end things. The longer I let David be part of me, the more hurt I’ll inflict.

  I. Am. Done.

  * * *

  I stared at the journal entry.

  * * *

  “I don’t hurt you.”

  “Yeah, sure, and Santa Claus is real.”

  “We’re both as real as you need us to be.”

  * * *

  The sooner I got him out of my head, the better.

  I continued to write.

  * * *

  There’s no pill big enough to choke him. David’s been with me since I was five, or at least that’s my earliest recollection of him. He was there with me in the dark, locked closet when Branson wet himself and I had to be the big brother, the protector. David was mine. But he’s not protecting me anymore. I’m a ticking time bomb here.

  A part of me is afraid that I have the same shit Branson has. It’s terrifying.

  * * *

  David broke through. “What’s terrifying about it?”

  “Everything. I mean, seeing Branson have his moments, his breaks. Not fun.”

  The only way to ignore David was to write.

  * * *

  I’ve tried so hard not to be like Branson. Seeing my brother in that hospital and the lack of control he had over his life was fucked up. His inability to have control over his thoughts was scary. Then the hospital cut him off from the real world. He didn’t have access to basic shit, like a cell phone. I think that scared the shit outta me more than anything. It was like they kept him hostage. The hospital decides who’s freed and who remains locked up. Fuck that.

  I can’t be like him. It’s why I don’t do street drugs. I don’t want something to trigger a psychotic break. That’s what they called it when it happened to Branson, a psychotic break.

  All the people who stayed in the hospital were a mess. One day this one girl died like right after I got there. I walked past her room and she was pearl white. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen. She was like one of those glass China dolls that Carson used to collect. It was freaky as fuck. I wasn’t even thinking about death or that Branson could die from this. I went into his room and we just bawled our eyes out.

  * * *

  My cell rang with an incoming call. Branson. I let it go straight into voice mail.

  “Your mom isn’t coming for you. She sent Branson.”

  “Fuck you.” I shook my head. “You don’t know that. It could be one of those twin things, like when we were in high school and I knew something was wrong, so I called him and his girlfriend told me he had fallen off his moped and skinned up his side real badly. It’s a twin thing. That’s all it is.”

  His laughter mocked me.

  “Your mom will never come for you. You may be the firstborn twin, but you’re not her first priority.”

  I hate you.

  My phone chimed with a text from the seller I’d contacted. He had the gun I needed, and since it was a private sale, there was no background check required. There were so many loopholes in gun laws that my little brother, Jack, could walk into a pawn shop, and if they weren’t a licensed dealer, he could walk away with a gun. Okay, maybe not a gun. But if he was twenty-one he could.

  The thought of my little brother put a lump in my throat.

  He’ll be better off. It’s better to feel pain than to have others endure it.

  I refocused my attention to the text and responded that our meeting in two hours was still on. This time I wouldn’t draw attention to myself. I grabbed my backpack and left my apartment like it was any other school day.

  34

  Branson

  “Hey, Mom, what’s up?” I balanced my cell against my ear and shoulder while I unloaded my pockets and stepped out of my shoes. My keys, loose change, and wallet went in a tub on the conveyor belt.

  “Sir, all electronics need to go through.” The TSA agent was a woman about my mom’s age.

  “Mom, I’ll call you right back.” Before she could respond, I ended the call and tossed my phone in a circular bin that slowly moved toward the X-ray machine.

  Casper’s airport was small, which was great for last-minute travel. It was less than ten minutes from my apartment with free parking, so other than stuffing jeans, a couple shirts, and other stuff into a bag, leaving Wyoming didn’t take much effort.

  I wasn’t stupid enough to think that Ohio would fix my
shattered heart, but it’d be a start.

  Passing through TSA and getting to the gate took just over five minutes. Wyoming wasn’t for everyone, but it was for me. Aaron seemed to think I wanted to leave Wyoming and put it in my rearview, but I’d never leave. My dream job was to work at one of the state parks and call the outdoors my office. I was one semester away from that happening. Dr. Blaze’s whole spiel about focusing on the positive wasn’t for nothing.

  I wasn’t looking forward to my next appointment with him, though. There was no way to spin that into something other than what it was. I was not ready to see Hope again.

  Maybe she’ll quit.

  Sure, and maybe pigs’ll fly.

  The hurt was too fresh. No matter how many times I tried to think of what I could’ve done differently, there was a part of me that knew there was nothing.

  I dropped my bag on a blue seat in the boarding area and called my mom.

  “Sorry about that,” I said when she picked up.

  “Is this a good time? Do you have a minute?”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Yeah, my plane doesn’t take off for another twenty minutes. What’s up?”

  “Plane? Where are you?”

  I laughed. “Uh, Casper, where I live. I’m at the airport.” I stood in front of the wall of glass and watched the planes on the tarmac. “I’m going to see Aaron, but don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise. You know, like when he flew home to see you.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  The drop in her voice wasn’t what I expected.

  “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m worried about your brother,” she said. “I spoke to him, and he’s not himself. And now he won’t answer my calls.”

  “Mom, it’s the end of the semester. No one is themselves. He’s probably studying. It’s just the time of year.”

  “No, that’s not it. I think Aaron is having a mental breakdown.”

  “What?” I shook my head. “Mom, Aaron is the strongest person I know. He’s probably just stressed, that’s all. You know Aaron, he freaks if he doesn’t get a 4.0.”

  “I don’t think that’s it. He talked about Trevor and how you had to have known about the voices, and then he mentioned someone named David. Does he have any friends named David?”

  “Not that I know about.” A plane landed in the distance. I glanced at the clock. My flight would be boarding in less than twenty minutes. “Mom, what exactly did Aaron say?”

  “He talked about Trevor and how you would’ve known he was back and that it’s hard not to know about the voices. That’s when he mentioned David and said you just know.”

  “Know what?”

  “The voices. That if you have them, you know.”

  If I hadn’t called my mom, I would’ve thought this was some prank. What the fuck?

  “Did he actually say that? Did he say he was hearing voices?”

  “No, he didn’t come out and say it, but after….”

  “It’s okay, Mom, I’m not going to break. Just say it. After me, you’re worried.”

  “Branson, I’m really worried. I can’t fly out there until my oncologist gives me the go-ahead, but I don’t think I can wait.”

  “Okay, well, I’m headed there now.”

  “What if it’s too late?”

  The last time I heard my mom this scared was when I was in the hospital.

  “I called the university, and they put me in touch with the campus patrol, who promised they’d do a welfare check on him. But that was hours ago, and they haven’t called back. Branson”—her voice cracked—“what if he’s not okay?” She started crying, and my eyes welled.

  “Mom, he’s going to be okay. It’s Aaron. He has to be okay.”

  Her crying intensified. “I missed it. Branson, I missed it. He came home and needed me, and I wasn’t there for him. How did I miss this?”

  “Mom, you’ve got to stop. We don’t know anything.” The door to the plane opened and a flight of stairs descended. “Listen, they’re going to start boarding the plane.”

  “He broke up with his girlfriend and she’s pregnant,” she blurted out.

  “Hannah? Hannah’s pregnant.”

  A flight attendant appeared behind the kiosk and picked up the mic.

  My mom began to talk, but I couldn’t hear her over the PA.

  “Good afternoon. This is the preboarding announcement for flight 86 to Denver. We are now inviting those passengers with small children and any passengers requiring special assistance to begin boarding at this time.”

  It was the middle of the week. There weren’t any children or elderly people flying to Denver.

  “Regular boarding will begin in approximately five minutes. Thank you.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a voice that could only be described as resigned.

  “Mom, it’s going to be okay, I promise. This is Aaron we’re talking about. He’s probably just feeling really down because of Hannah. Breakups suck.” I thought of my own, which suddenly seemed stupid.

  Hannah’s pregnant? Fuck.

  “Did Aaron say what they’re going to do?”

  “She’s chosen not to have the baby” was all my mom would say on the topic.

  “Oh.”

  The flight attendant spoke again. “This is the boarding call for passengers booked on flight 86 to Denver.”

  “Mom, I’ve got to get on the plane.”

  “Be safe.”

  I laughed. “Mom, it’s Aaron. The worst thing he could do to me is cook for me.”

  That made her laugh. “I can’t think of a better time for you to be there for him. Please call me. As soon as you’re with your brother, call me. When I hear from my doctor, I’ll be there.”

  “I’ve got this.”

  “But I’m his mom.” Her voice broke again.

  “Aaron knows that. He knows you’d be there if you could.”

  “No, I will be there. I will be there for my son.”

  “Mom, it’s going to be okay. But I’ve got to get on the plane.”

  “I love you. Call me.” I knew if she could stay on the phone until I got to Cleveland, she would. There was nothing my mom wouldn’t do for her kids.

  “I’ll call. Love you, Mom.”

  35

  Branson

  From the moment my mom mentioned David, I scrolled through all of Aaron’s social media accounts. There wasn’t one David anywhere on any of his feeds. Still I continued to check. Friends of Aaron’s, friends of Hannah—anyone connected to my brother, I checked. And I continued to come up empty.

  Who’s David? Is he my brother’s version of Trevor? Could that be possible?

  The flight from Casper to Denver was a blur, as was the connecting flight from Denver to Cleveland. When the captain made the announcement that we’d be landing soon, I glanced out my window and caught the sun above a floor of clouds as it began to set. I snapped a quick pic. From this height, everything seemed manageable.

  * * *

  A “Welcome To Cleveland” sign greeted me in the airport, which was deceptively bigger than it appeared. I followed the other passengers toward baggage claim. Other than our group, the airport was virtually empty, and it was only seven. I turned at a navy-painted wall that had “Cleveland” plastered in white and took the stairs toward the front entrance.

  Even though it was November, the moisture in the air made it feel colder than Wyoming. The exterior of the airport was under construction. The plywood sheets covering the worksite were painted with scenes from the city of Cleveland. An image of Superman with his hands proudly on his hips announced that Cleveland was the birthplace of the action hero.

  When we were little, anytime Aaron and I pretended to be superheroes, he chose Superman. I was always Batman.

  My eyes watered and I swallowed hard.

  He’s fine.

  I scanned the license plates of the cars lined up ou
tside the airport until I found the Lyft I’d ordered. Aaron’s address was already logged as my final destination. The app claimed I’d be at my brother’s apartment in fifteen minutes.

  With all the city lights, the sky looked like a bruised plum. The city blurred past me in a stream of colors. When the driver pulled into the apartment complex, I did a double take. A tall, elongated, tan-colored brick building loomed ahead. It was almost a duplicate of our freshman dorm at Nickel Hall. That beast was a twelve-story building with great views that overlooked the campus and an elevator that never worked. Aaron and I were on the eighth floor, which absolutely sucked.

  Aaron was on the seventh floor in this building. I walked past an empty pool on the way to a side entrance. I didn’t want to announce myself, which would’ve been the only way to enter the locked building. But four years of apartment life told me that a side door would be propped open by a rock or, in this case, a sneaker. The freight elevator was off to the side of the main elevator. I slung my bag over my shoulder, pressed the button for the seventh floor, and for the first time in a long time, I prayed.

  “Hey, it’s me. I know I don’t do this until I need something, but….” I swallowed. “This isn’t for me; it’s for my brother. He’s always been there for me and now….” I shook my head. “I don’t know who this David is. God, please just keep him safe. Let him be okay.”

  36

  Aaron

  “You’re not going to do it.”

  The louder David became, the more determined I had to be, but it was getting harder and harder to shut him out.