Separation

by Louise Lyons

  I took a slow stroll along the sand, staring hard at every young man I passed who appeared close to my age. None of them looked anything like me, but that didn't mean a thing. I could walk right by him and never know.

  The afternoon crawled by and I continued walking up and down. People came and went. Hunger drove me from the beach and I grabbed a burger from the first food stand I reached. I slathered the greasy concoction in ketchup and mustard, grinning as I imagined the horror on my mother's face if she saw what I was eating. My phone peeled impatiently in my pocket for the hundredth time, reminding me I still hadn't let them know where I was.

  When I finished eating, I sent my mother a brief text: I'm in Devon looking for Tremaine. Realizing the message would seem cryptic when she didn't even know my twin's name, I sent a second message: His name is Tremaine Wheal. Address details out of date, but he's in Salcombe. I switched off the phone, not wanting to be interrupted again.

  I bought an ice cream and a can of Coke to follow the burger, before I returned to the sand and sat down. It was probably pointless. Just because his old neighbor said he'd been seen on the beach didn't mean he lived on it, or even came here that often. Belatedly, I remembered it was a weekday, so Tremaine could be at work. I decided I should probably try to find a hotel with a vacant room, and I pulled out my phone again to search for accommodation. As I scrolled through various options, a shadow fell across my out-stretched legs, and I looked up. A tanned, blue-eyed blond about my age stared down at me, a friendly smile on his attractive face.

  “Hey. You've been here a while. Get stood up?”

  “No.” I shook my head, letting my gaze slide from his face to the open short-sleeved shirt, lean torso, and low-slung brightly colored shorts. The Crocs on his feet were orange. “I was looking for someone, but I don't know where to start.”

  “Maybe I can help. I've lived here all my life. I know most of the regulars here.” He sat down a couple of feet away. “My name's Stef.”

  A tiny part of me had hoped he was Tremaine. “Matthew,” I responded.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  “So, who are you looking for?”

  “His name's Tremaine Wheal.” Stef's eyes widened with instant recognition. “You know him?”

  “Yeah.” He swallowed and looked away. “What do you want with him?”

  “I think, I mean, I was told he's my brother.”

  Stef's gaze shot back to my face. “Don't you know?”

  “No. I'm adopted. I only found out today that he exists.”

  “Oh.”

  “You know where I can find him?”

  “Yeah, he's staying in a shared house down that end of town.” Stef gestured vaguely. “Do you know anything about him?”

  “Only his name. The address and phone number I was given are out of date. How do you know him?”

  “We, uh, grew up together.”

  “You were friends?”

  “Once.”

  “What can you tell me about him?” Sensing there was some kind of history, I wondered how I could let him know whatever he said wouldn't bother me. “Did you date him or something?”

  Startled, Stef edged away a few inches. “I thought you didn't know anything about him. So how do you know he's gay?”

  “I didn't. It was a stab in the dark. I'm gay,” I blurted, astonished. Tremaine’s gay too?

  “Well, no, we didn't date. Fooled around a couple of times in our teens, but it wasn't my thing. I like big muscly types.” He gave me a quick grin. “We were good friends until we finished school. His dad died that summer and he changed a lot. I barely saw him after that. Didn't even know he'd moved until I went around to his house and found his neighbor's son living there.”

  “You said he's living in a shared house. Can you give me the address?”

  “It's in Seaview Street. A big building on the corner with an intercom panel next to the front door. You can't miss it.”

  “Thanks.” I made to get up, but hesitated. “Why aren't you friends anymore?”

  “Just a stupid fight. He got in with the wrong crowd and had a real dick of a boyfriend. I interfered and he didn't like it, so I stayed away.”

  “He never mentioned to you that his dad told him he had a twin?”

  “No.” Stef shook his head. “You're certainly not identical. You look nothing like him, except for your eyes. Same color as the sea in winter.”

  I grinned. “Not a poet, are you?”

  “Fuck off.” He smiled back. “I hope you find him. If you want to hang out later or whatever, look me up. I live on Bristol Avenue. Number nine. It's over the other side of town.”

  “Thanks.” I offered him my hand to shake, then got up and went to look for Tremaine.

  It took less than ten minutes to reach the building Stef had told me Tremaine lived in. I stared at the six buttons on the panel outside the door, all of them labeled. TW was printed next to number five. After a moment's hesitation, I punched it and listened to the obnoxiously loud buzz inside the building. Clenching and unclenching my fists, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. The distant sound of a door slamming preceded footsteps pounding, probably down a flight of stairs. I held my breath as the door swung open and I met the unmistakable gray-blue eyes of the other half of me.

  “Yes?” He stared at me curiously, gaze sliding down my body and back up to my face. I examined him in the same way. A ragged T-shirt with the faded design of a surfing scene hung outside ripped jeans. Green flip-flops on tanned feet made me imagine him on the beach, maybe in shorts and carrying a surf board. His slender form was well-toned like mine, only I got my physique from the home gym Dad had installed for me. The shape of his nose mirrored mine, but his face was thinner and more chiseled, with his rich tan making my sunbed tone pale in comparison. His hair, mostly mousy-brown, lightened in places by the sun and streaked unevenly with green and blue, brushed his shoulders.

  “Um…” My mouth had gone dry. “Are you Tremaine Wheal?”

  “Yeah?” His eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”

  “I'm… Matthew Langford. I'm adopted. I found out today that you're, um, my—”

  “Shit!” Tremaine's jaw dropped. “You're my twin?”

  “Yes.” It was nothing like I imagined, but I watched too much TV. In my head, I'd conjured up instant recognition—immediate soul-mates torn apart by circumstances, hitting it off like we'd never been separated. Delighted smiles followed by eager hugs, then both talking at top speed as we discovered everything we had in common. But it was awkward. I couldn't think of a thing to say to him, and the silence stretched out between us as he failed to say anything in return.

  Chapter Three

  Matthew

  Say something, you idiot.

  I cleared my throat. “It's my—our—twenty-first birthday. I—”

  “When did you—?”

  We stopped and laughed uncomfortably. “You first,” I offered.

  “When did you find out about me?”

  “Today.”

  He nodded. “My dad said we were supposed to be told when we turned twenty-one. But he, um, he died when I was eighteen, so he told me early. I got in touch with the agency to try to find you, but they said they couldn't make contact with you. It was down to you to want to look for me if and when your parents told you.”

  Bloody rules. “I'm sorry about your dad.”

  “Thanks.” A pained look flitted across his face. It still hurt him after three years. I'd never lost anyone close to me, but I knew it would be hard when my parents passed away. “How did you find me? Some stuff happened and I didn't update the details. I was going to call the adoption agency today and tell them where I live now.”

  “I went to the agency this morning. I live in St. Albans. They gave me a phone number but it was out of service, so I drove here. The lady next door to your old house said you were often seen on the beach. Then I met your, um, your old friend, Stef. He sent me he
re.”

  Tremaine's unhappy frown deepened and he let out a long sigh. “Look, um, maybe we can go and get a coffee or something. I'd ask you in, but my room's a bit of a dump.”

  “Sure.”

  “I'll just get my wallet. Hold on a minute.” Leaving the door open, he made his way up the uncarpeted wooden stairs and disappeared along the landing. I leaned against the door jamb, trying to swallow my disappointment. We were strangers. The connection I'd imagined was missing. I didn't feel anything for him, other than curiosity. Perhaps it would take time.

  Tremaine returned seconds later and I backed up to let him out the door. He slammed it closed behind him and indicated we turn left. We didn't talk as we strode along the street, but within a couple of minutes we reached a café. I followed him inside and instinctively hurried past him to get to the counter. He lived in a single room in a shared house, and not a very nice house at that. His clothes were old and practically falling off him. If he was short of money, the last thing I wanted was for him to spend any on me.

  “What would you like?” I glanced over my shoulder.

  “I can get my own.” His brow furrowed and his cheeks reddened.

  “It's just a drink. And maybe a slice of cake?” The array of cakes under the glass counter looked too tempting to pass up.

  After a brief pause, he smiled. “Okay. Thanks. I'll have a latte and a slice of coffee and walnut.”

  “That's my favorite cake!” I beamed at him, delighted by the tiny similarity. He went to secure a table by the window while I ordered the coffees. When I joined him, and added a single sachet of sugar to my latte, he did the same. We sipped at the same time, then went for the forks with our left hands. Suddenly, Tremaine snorted with laughter and looked up at me, eyes twinkling. “Weird.”

  “I wonder what else we have in common.”

  “Not much, I shouldn't think.” He gave me a wry grin. “You're wearing Levis. These…” He indicated his torn and faded jeans. “…are Matalan's finest.”

  “There's nothing wrong with Matalan.”

  “Yeah, but I bet you don't shop there.”

  “I suppose I was lucky. I didn't choose my parents. They picked me.”

  “Sorry. I wasn't having a dig at you. What do your parents do?”

  “My dad owns a courier company. He started up with one van before they got me, and it grew over the years.”

  “Mine was a builder. He, um, he had cancer. Smoked and drank himself to death.”

  “I'm sorry. He was my dad too. My real one. Can you tell me about him?”

  Tremaine shoveled a large forkful of cake into his mouth and washed it down with coffee before speaking again. “He never got over Mum dying. And having to give you up. I didn’t find out about the last part until he told me he had less than six months to live. The guilt had been eating him up for eighteen years. He did his best for a few weeks, but he couldn't cope with both of us.” He brushed a hand across his eyes and stared avidly into his coffee cup. “He said he kept me because I was first. I mean, how do you make a decision like that? How do you… tear two halves of something apart and not do anything when the part you kept always felt like something was missing?”

  “I always felt like something was missing too.” I put down my fork, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me if I tried to eat. Instead, I slid my hand across the table to Tremaine's, and suddenly our fingers were laced together, clutching at each other as if the other might be snatched away again if we let go. The overwhelming urge to scoot around the table and hug him filled me, but I stayed where I was, our hands and eyes locked together, until the whispering of two teenagers at the next table reached us.

  “Do you think they're gay?”

  Tremaine's snigger matched mine, and I released his hand. We gulped the rest of our coffees, nibbled the cake, and simultaneously rose to leave. We headed for the beach, without either of us suggesting it.

  “So, are you?” he asked, glancing sideways at me.

  “Am I what?”

  “Gay.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Me too.”

  “I know.”

  “Let me guess. Stef told you?” Tremaine's smile disappeared again.

  “He mentioned it. I think he misses you.”

  “There was nothing between us like that. It was only messing around, years ago.”

  “I didn't mean that. I meant your friendship.”

  “I don't know about that. I fucked it up. I met this guy, Chris—” He stopped at my gasp of surprise.

  “I, um, I had a boyfriend called Chris,” I explained. “He was a real—”

  “Bastard?”

  “I was going to say bitch, but yes.”

  Tremaine grinned. “Are you seeing anyone now?”

  “No. Chris put me off relationships.”

  “So did mine. Anyway, you know when you meet someone new and all you want to do is be with them? When I started seeing Chris, I kept pushing Stef away, and I got into some trouble and shit. Chris’s friends weren’t very nice. Stef tried to help for a while and we fought about it a lot. In the end, he gave up. He was just trying to be my friend and I kicked him in the teeth.”

  “You should try talking to each other. Shall we sit over there?” I indicated a wall running the length of the beach, separating the sand from the promenade.

  “Yeah.”

  We sat, me with my right ankle over my left knee, and him mirroring the position, left foot a few inches from my right one.

  “Stef said I could drop by his house if I wanted to catch up. Maybe we could both go?” I suggested.

  “Maybe.” He glanced at me, then turned his attention to a woman playing in the sand with two young kids. “Do you still live with your parents?”

  “Yeah. I like my home comforts. I could move out but… I just haven’t bothered.”

  “What do you do? For work.”

  “Um, I, um…” My face heated. “I haven’t decided. My parents wanted me to go to university, but it didn’t appeal. I like art. I draw and paint. I just… I don’t do anything at the moment. I’m not proud of it.” For the first time in my life I felt truly embarrassed by my lack of career and direction. Whereas I would have made something up to anyone else, with Tremaine, I spilled out the complete truth. “You must think I’m a spoiled brat. My dad says as much, but neither of my parents have given me much of a kick up the ass to make me do anything.”

  “I’ve no room to judge. After Dad died I went off the rails. Chris helped. We partied and fooled around. I lost my job and I got evicted from the house when I got behind with the rent. Chris and I lived in a house with some of his friends for about a year. After we split up, I ended up living off the taxpayers for another year before I got myself together and found a job. It’s not a good one. I work part-time in a bar, so I can only afford that one room.” He glanced up at me again. “I draw, too, by the way. Sketches, mostly.”

  “I’ve read about this kind of thing. You know, twins growing up apart and doing the same stuff, without knowing the other one made the same choices.”

  “Me too. I hoped you’d contact me. Three years is a long time.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I’d known sooner.”

  “Fucking rules,” Tremaine muttered.

  “It sucks that your dad decided to move four hours away. Maybe if he’d stayed in Hatfield, we’d have run into each other some time.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “Drove.”

  “You have a car?” His eyebrows lifted.

  “Yeah.” I hoped he wouldn’t press for more information. I felt guilty having so much without having earned it, when he worked and had nothing.

  “What is it?”

  “Um, a Volvo.”

  Tremaine whistled. “New?”

  “Mm.”

  “Present from Mummy and Daddy?” I flushed uncomfortably, and he elbowed me. “I’m just teasing. I learned to drive, but the idea of me having a car is laughable.”
>
  “You can drive mine sometime.”

  “Maybe. Where do we go from here?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed heavily. I wanted to get to know him; be closer to him. Unless one of us moved that would be difficult. “I’ll stay a few days. We can get to know each other.”

  “I sort of feel like I know you already. But yeah, that would be cool. I’m sorry I don’t have even a couch to offer you.”

  “I’ll find a hotel.” I pulled out my phone and found the number I’d saved earlier. “What’s your new number?”

  “Uh, it’s, um…”

  “You don’t know your number?”

  “I don’t have a phone, Matthew. I sold it, okay?” he snapped, glaring at me.

  “Matt. Or Mattie.”

  “Huh?”

  “My name. I hate Matthew. Hold on.” Clicking buttons on my phone, I started a restore program to delete everything on it. I’d backed up the content on iCloud only a couple of days earlier, so all of my contacts, photos and everything could be accessed from my computer. I passed him the phone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

  “What are you doing? You can’t give me your phone.” He folded his arms, his expression shifting from annoyance to embarrassment.

  “I can give you a gift on your twenty-first.” I risked a smile as I placed the phone in his lap. “I’ll get another one. Please, just keep it.”

  “I have nothing to give you.” Nevertheless, he picked up the phone.

  “I found you. That's more important. The security code is our birthday. I’ll text you when I have a new number.”

  “Thank you, Matt.” He put the phone in his pocket. “I just saw what time it is. I have to get home and change for work.”

  “What time do you finish?”

  “Midnight. Then I’m off for the next three days. If you’re planning on staying—”

  “We could hang out.” We rose at the same time and stood a few feet apart, staring at each other. How did you say good-bye to a twin? Even if you had just met them after waiting twenty-one years for the hole in your life to be filled? I took a half step forward as he did the same. We practically fell into each other’s arms and held on desperately. His trembling and his pounding heart imitated mine, and I hugged him tighter than ever, struggling to swallow the lump in my throat that had been so quick to reappear. I fought back tears, trying to ignore the ache in my chest as he stepped away from me, his eyes brimming.