Twins

by Marcy Dermansky

  I understood that I had led this practical stranger into my bedroom. I knew that my belly button was showing.

  “So you’re an orphan?” James said. His voice had gone soft, almost with awe. He really knew nothing about me. My heart was beating fast.

  “No,” I said. “I have a mother and a father and a brother and a sister and a dog and all of them are alive and healthy. They just don’t live here anymore.”

  I had been alone in the house for almost three weeks, but I was starting to go crazy from loneliness. I had started talking to Sue. I would think of something, and I would get angry, and I would talk to her. “It’s your fault they are gone,” I’d say, falling asleep in my parents’ king-size bed. I had started sleeping in all of the bedrooms. I felt like I was getting away with something. Sometimes, I wore Sue’s combat boots. She had taken my sneakers but left her own black, bulky shoes at home.

  James looked at me. He was confused. He didn’t know when he came over that I would be by myself. Probably, he thought that he would have to meet my parents, that they would offer him lemonade and ask him about school, like it was in the fifties, like it probably still was in regular homes.

  “But you live here all alone?” James said.

  James stared at me, waiting for an answer.

  I wasn’t sure how a guy was supposed to respond to this situation. We were alone in the house and I had taken him to my bedroom. He would probably expect sex. In the matter of rape, my father would tell me, it would be a difficult case to win. The defense could maintain that, by luring James to my room and showing him my belly button, I was asking for whatever I got. James looked straight ahead. His hands were flat on the tops of his legs.

  “They all left to do their own thing,” I said.

  “That’s cold,” James said.

  I looked down, and then I look straight at him. I bit my lip. I hoped that my hair looked sexy, the way it fell forward, blocking my face. I tucked a strand behind my ear and tilted my head toward him. He put his hand on the back of my head, and we kissed. I kept my eyes open. I felt so proud of the ease with which this kiss happened. Like the simple footwork for a layup, the left, right, left that brought me under the basket for the easy shot. I slid my tongue into James’s mouth. I had remembered how to kiss from Lisa’s party, way back in the eighth grade. I had liked kissing then too. Every time my name was called to go into the closet, my heart would start to pound. I put my hand on the back of James’s head. I pulled too hard, and our teeth knocked together. I broke away. I looked at James, his brown eyes, his dark, swoopy hair, his even, white teeth. He wore a gold hoop earring in his left ear. He tasted like toothpaste.

  “Hey, Chloe,” he said.

  James still seemed nervous, but I knew just what I was doing. I could tell right away that James was sweet, the way Mr. Markman had seemed kind from the first time I met him, and I leaned in to kiss him again. This time, with my hand on his shoulder, I held him tightly and pulled us back onto the bed. Again, it was easy. James lay halfway on top of me, kissing me gently, as if he was afraid to kiss too hard. I put his hand on my breast. I could hear him moan softly, and then, because I had given him permission, James stopped being nervous. He put his hand under my T-shirt.

  I closed my eyes, trying to imagine how James must look when he played basketball. I felt his hand move down to my stomach, and I imagined that he would be good with a basketball. I wished that I had seen him play. I wrapped my arms around him, and then I slid my hands down the gap between his baggy jeans and his skin, and I could feel James shiver. But then, I heard a noise, the door opening downstairs, and I opened my eyes.

  I put my hand on James’s hand.

  “Wait,” I said. “Stop.”

  I could hear the floorboards creak. I was certain that any second Sue would barge into my room. I looked at my closet, afraid she was hiding behind the door.

  “You have to go,” I said. My shirt was pulled up over my chest. I pulled it back down. I kept listening for Sue’s footsteps. My parents had said that she was at Daniel’s college, but I always heard her lurking outside my door. She had broken Lisa Markman’s nose because we had gone to the mall together. There was no telling what she would do if she found a guy in my bedroom.

  James got up. He looked around the room, nervously, as if he too expected someone to walk in.

  “Go?” he said. “Okay? No problem.”

  James held his hands out in front of him, as if I had accused him of attacking me. He walked out of the bedroom, straightening his clothes as he went, and headed down the steps. He walked quickly. I didn’t think he was going to look back. I had offended him. I followed him downstairs and checked the front door while James went to the closet where I had hung up his jacket. The front door was still locked.

  “Will you check to see if anyone is in the kitchen?” I said. “Please?”

  James looked at me funny, but he went into the kitchen like I asked him to.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Nobody’s in there. Did you hear something?”

  From the clock on the wall, I could see that James had been in my house for less than half an hour. He was busy putting on his jacket; he seemed like he could not wait to leave. I wanted to cry. I had messed up. There was no one in the house, and I didn’t want him to leave. I had done so well, getting him to come upstairs to my bedroom. I could still feel my lips tingling from the pressure of his kisses. I sat on the couch, waiting for him to leave. But James sat down next to me.

  “This is a big house,” he said, “to be in all by yourself.”

  “I get a little nervous sometimes.”

  James reached over and held my hand.

  “I always think that someone is breaking in,” I said. “Or that there’s an intruder hiding in the closet. At night I think I can see my sister perched on the branches of the trees, staring at me through the window.”

  James had started to caress the top of my hand with one of his fingers. I looked down at his hand. I felt myself shiver. I was staring at him, and he was staring right back at me. He looked nothing like me.

  “There’s no one here,” he said. “You are safe.”

  “Can you check in my bedroom?”

  James shook his head. “I had an idea that you were a shy girl. I’ve never seen you talk to anyone before. And I mean anyone. I thought I was going to have to woo you. Take you to the movies and dinner and buy you flowers. I thought you would be expensive.”

  “I like flowers,” I said.

  “You have never said boo to me before,” James said.

  “Boo,” I said.

  We kissed again.

  “So you want me to go up to your bedroom?” he said.

  I shrugged.

  “Maybe you could live here. You could move in, if you want to.”

  “Everyone thinks I must be good at basketball,” James said.

  We lay in the bed naked, under the covers, our bodies entwined. I wondered if I was in love. I didn’t know if it was possible for it to happen so quickly. I knew nothing about James. I thought maybe, because he came to my games, because he was tall, because his body was muscular and lean, he might also play. He laughed when I asked him, and I was afraid that I might have offended him. I wanted to love James, and I wanted him to love me.

  “But I dig watching you play,” he said. He stroked the top of my head. “Didn’t you notice me? Waving my sign? I only came to look at you.”

  I had noticed James Patterson’s sign, but not him. Not really. I kept my eyes on the ball and Mr. Markman, tall and proud, sitting in the front row. Otherwise I made an effort not to look in the stands, pretending not to know that Sue was sitting in one of the upper rows, staring at me with hate in her eyes. I had never really looked at James. Now he was my lover, my very first.

  I shook my head. I wondered why I felt disappointed.

  “I can’t believe I’m here with you like this,” James said. He kissed me again, and I smiled, closed my eyes, thinking that
we would fall asleep together. Instead, James leaned down to the floor and reached for his sweatshirt.

  “You’re not staying?”

  I put my hand on James’s thigh. There were two more condoms in the top dresser drawer that were left over from the Christmas Daniel had spent at the house with Yumiko. It did not matter that James didn’t play basketball, if only he would stay here, with me.

  “You’re serious?” he said.

  He put his hand on top of my hand and smiled. I nodded. I kissed him again, happy, proud. His hands were exploring my body, and I knew that I had found something else I was good at.

  James let his shirt fall back to the floor. He gasped when I touched his penis. “I’ll have to call my mother,” he said.

  I liked that. James Patterson was a responsible boy. He slid his arms beneath my back, and he pulled me over, so that I was on top of him, my hair hanging down past my shoulders, my breasts exposed. I hoped that he would not be disgusted when he discovered my tattoo. He was going to spend the night. I hoped he would never want to leave.

  “It’s my birthday,” I told him.

  Once I convinced James to play a game of one on one. I beat him soundly. He was not a good player, but even worse, he didn’t care. He applauded when I passed him for a layup. As a form of defense, he tried to make me laugh, waving his arms wildly, jumping up and down like a spastic monkey.

  “Who cares, Chloe?” he said. “Who cares who wins? We’re just goofing around. Having a good time.”

  James and I were different. He was a year older than me, but he didn’t act it. He thought life was all about having a good time. I was disappointed when I found out that James had been a mediocre student at best. I wondered if I was supposed to have asked him some more questions before I took him to my bedroom. James had never even taken the SATs. He laughed when I told him that everyone went to college. “Not me,” he said.

  James was in no way an ambitious person, but he was funny and sweet. He made me laugh. And he had a car and drove me to all the places I couldn’t get to on my own: the mall and the supermarket and the multiplex movie theater. He had a friend named Jamal, who hung out with us most of the time. Jamal’s name was also James, but he had changed it when he started hanging out with James to avoid confusion. He was white but wore his hair in long dreadlocks, and like James, he dressed like the black kids in school with the baggy pants and gold chains and basketball sneakers. James and Jamal liked to cut classes together, get stoned and play Nintendo. They had a part-time job together, painting houses after school.

  “I know you,” Jamal said, excited, the first time James brought him over to the house. “We were in detention together, like ages ago. You sat at your desk and scowled. You juggled shit.”

  “Detention?” James shook his head. “Not Chloe.”

  “It was Sue,” I said. “I have an identical twin.”

  Jamal shook his head. “Pencils, erasers, staplers, textbooks. That girl could juggle anything. Are you sure that’s not you?”

  I gave Jamal a tour of the house, taking him into Sue’s old room, showing him the pictures of us on the wall. I hated it that he could have mistaken me for Sue.

  “And she’s gone?” Jamal said.

  “Jamal is slow on the uptake,” James said, slapping the back of Jamal’s head.

  “She’s not dead,” I told him. “She just doesn’t live here anymore.”

  “Damn,” he said. “We could have double-dated. This house could have been like that reality dating show with the twins. The four of us swilling champagne in a hot tub.”

  “This house doesn’t have a hot tub,” I said.

  “Double damn,” Jamal said. “But we could have still drank champagne. Can you juggle?”

  “I can ride a unicycle,” I said.

  James looked at me in admiration. “You keep secrets from me,” he said, grabbing my waist.

  “I can ride one,” I said. “But I don’t.”

  Jamal stared at the pictures of me and Sue.

  “That must be some freaky shit,” he said. “Growing up with someone who looks just like you.”

  I wondered what Sue would have thought of him, or James, who had his hand firmly in my back pocket, and for the first time, I was glad she had left home. I did not want to talk to Jamal about being a twin, and I would have been mortified to have Sue there, looking down on me for having an ordinary boyfriend. Jamal stood in front of the picture of me and Sue, naked in a sandbox. I felt my skin turning red.

  “Do you play basketball?” I asked Jamal, though I already knew the answer. Jamal was about an inch taller than James. They were big guys.

  “Holy shit, no.” Jamal shook his head. “All those practices. Coaches yelling at you, blowing their whistles in your face. It’s like the army. I believe in recreational sports.”

  “So is she coming back?” Jamal said, sitting down on Sue’s bed. “Your twin sister?”

  I shrugged. “Probably not.”

  I looked at James and Jamal, eyeing each other.

  “An empty room,” Jamal said. “No parents.”

  James was moving in at the end of the week. His mother had been heartbroken when she found out about my offer. She had pleaded with him to wait until he graduated. She threatened to stop making his car payments.

  “You want Jamal to live here too?” I said.

  I thought it would be romantic, living in the house alone with James, almost as if we had just gotten married.

  Jamal lay back on Sue’s bed.

  “Firm,” he said. “Nice.”

  “Chloe,” James told Jamal, “takes life very seriously.”

  “Whatever you want to do, Chloe,” Jamal said. He sat up, smiling at me, his open face framed by dreadlocks. “If it’s a problem, if you’re uncomfortable, it’s no big deal.”

  James put his arm around me. “We could have such an awesome summer. Kick back, fill the pool. Grill steaks, drink beer.”

  “Would you be okay,” I said to Jamal, “with the room down the hall instead?”

  I couldn’t give away Sue’s room. It would be too awful if she were to come home and find out that she was not wanted. But I didn’t mind the idea of Jamal in Daniel’s room, which had never felt like it belonged to me. James and I were going to move into my parents’ bedroom. James had always wanted to sleep in a king-size bed.

  “Awesome,” Jamal said.

  James and Jamal high-fived each other, and I laughed. It was so easy to make James happy.

  “Man will we party,” Jamal said.

  He jumped up and down, like he was a kangaroo. His head banged the ceiling light fixture. I thought of Mr. Markman and the little house in Hawaii, the way he often bumped his head on the low-hanging chandelier.

  I met James’s mother at the dentist’s office where she worked as a dental hygienist. I was surprised to discover that the office was in the same strip mall where Sue and I had gotten our tattoos. The area had gotten nicer, and the tattoo shop had been replaced by a café. Louise Patterson had scheduled an appointment for me.

  “Some parents make you dinner,” James had told me. “My mother cleans my girlfriends’ teeth. It’s her way of checking them out.”

  Louise was younger than my parents. She’d dropped out of college when she’d gotten pregnant with James. He had told me that she had a history of picking lousy, abusive boyfriends and that, five years ago, she had given up on men altogether. “She hates them all,” he said. “She even thinks I’m a dog.”

  Louise gave me a hug when she came to get me in the waiting room. She was gentle putting on the heavy apron I need to wear to have my X-rays taken.

  “When is the last time that you’ve been to the dentist, honey?” she asked.

  I shrugged.

  “I’m not sure,” I said.

  “One year, two years? Three?”

  “A while, I guess.”

  “Well, consider this my gift to you,” she said.

  I did not know how to respond. Her s
on was moving in with me the next day. I supposed she could have bought us some kind of housewarming gift, even though the house was furnished with all of my parents’ things.

  First Louise took X-rays, and then she brought me to another room, where she cleaned my teeth.

  “You are extremely lucky you don’t have cavities,” she said, jabbing a small metal pick into my gums. “This is why children need parents.”

  Louise tsk-tsked when she looked into my mouth. She told me that I was on the road to gingivitis. She scraped and prodded, and occasionally she handed me a small plastic cup to rinse my mouth. I spit out blood. When she finally was done, and my teeth were polished clean, I had a sensational headache. She filled another small plastic cup with water and told me to rinse. She gave me a new toothbrush and mint dental floss.

  “Don’t let my son move into your house,” she said.

  The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed.

  All week long, James had been moving in his things, and Jamal had already stayed over twice. I felt better when they were in the house. When I was alone my head filled up with thoughts and worries. I got angry at Sue. I started talking to myself.

  “We’ll be fine,” I said.

  Louise shook her head.

  “You’re too young,” she said. “You kids are going to run wild.”

  “We’re not,” I said. “We won’t.”

  “I hate to say so, because he’s my son and I raised him, but I don’t trust the boy. He doesn’t respect women. He takes things for granted. He’s a taker, my boy.”

  I rubbed my tongue along my teeth. One tooth still felt gritty with the pink powder she had used to polish them. I was surprised Louise would say such nasty things about her son. She was his mother. Parents were supposed to love their children.

  “How much do I owe you? For the appointment?”

  Louise shook her head. “I wanted to do this for you,” she said. “You had a nasty case of tartar buildup.”