by Simon Curtis
He just didn’t understand where their hatred came from. No, that wasn’t true. He knew it stemmed from fear. They were afraid. Afraid that if she was herself, her true self, it would somehow reflect something within their true selves that they desperately didn’t want anyone to see.
Thomas threw the first punch.
“Fuck you, little faggot,” he said, sneering as he popped her in the face. As his sister fell, he lunged to hit Thomas in retaliation.
No, fuck you.
The resounding crack of his knuckles against Thomas’s jaw sent shock waves of pain through his hand and into his arm.
It felt fucking fantastic.
Girls were cheering in the hallway and taking videos with their phones. His other two brothers charged at him as Thomas reeled back in pain, his nose gushing blood, but they were stopped by two thick, tree-trunk arms.
“What in the blue fuck is going on here boys?” Mr. Anderson’s deep voice boomed over the cacophony of the students gathered in the hallway.
With his brothers safely occupied by Mr. Anderson’s giant arms, he turned and bent down to help his sister up. Her books had fallen out of her bag and her eye was quickly swelling shut. Her wig had fallen off and was strewn out on the tile by her backpack. “Are you okay?” he said, lifting her up.
“Yeah, I’m good.” She grabbed the wig from the tile and stared at it in her hands.
“Put it back on,” he said. “Don’t let these assholes get to you.”
She stared at her feet. “I don’t have a mirror.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and made her look him in the eye.
“I’m your mirror.”
She cracked a smile and winced from the swelling as Mr. Anderson shuffled their three brothers down the hall. He looked back toward them.
“You two. Office. Now.”
Just leave her alone. Please.
• • •
He remembered the first time he thought of her that way, as her.
She was born he—his twin, Aaron. His partner both in the womb and the world outside. But as long as he’d known Aaron—as long as they’d both been alive, really—he knew she was she.
Even in his earliest memories—riding in Aunt Janet’s car, singing along to the radio—he always sang the boy’s parts and Aaron always sang the girl’s. When they arrived at the store and begged Aunt Janet to roam the toy aisle, he knew Aaron would wind up in the pink aisle. Aaron would beg and plead for toys that he had no interest in, and the toys he wanted Aaron never seemed to care about. Aunt Janet never made it seem like an issue, so it wasn’t one.
Aaron’s sheets were pink and his were blue, and when Aunt Janet tucked them in at night, she kissed them each on the cheek and told them both how much God loved them and that they should always say their prayers, even if she wasn’t around to say them too. She would sit on the edge of one of their beds and together they would sing.
Jesus loves me, this I know
For the Bible tells me so
Little ones to him belong
They are weak, but he is strong
Yes, Jesus loves me
Yes, Jesus loves me
Yes, Jesus loves me
The Bible tells me so.
Then she would turn out the light and tell them she loved them. That’s just how it was.
• • •
The day of their seventh birthday was the day everything started to change. Aunt Janet got dressed up, went to the hairdresser that morning, and had her best friend Shonda over to do her makeup. The theme was Pirates and Mermaids. All of his friends from school—the boys—came dressed as pirates, and Aaron’s girlfriends all came as mermaids. There were two cakes, a ship and an underwater castle. Even the party favors were themed. The boys all got toy swords and eye patches, while the girls got sparkly hairbrushes and seashell-shaped lip glosses. Aunt Janet even let Aaron put on some of Shonda’s eye glitter from her makeup kit.
Then Pastor Martin arrived.
The party was halfway over, and all the kids were laughing and eating cake when the doorbell rang. Shonda stopped Aunt Janet before she could answer the door to make sure her makeup and hair were right, and then the loud voice came from the entryway.
“Why, Janet, you look ravishing.”
Aunt Janet came into the room with the new arrivals just as Aaron belted out the final high note from his favorite song from the mermaid movie he watched on repeat back then.
“Boys, this is my friend Pastor Martin and his sons, Thomas, Elijah, and Michael.”
Aaron stopped singing and brushed strands of the neon-orange wig from his glittered eyes as Pastor Martin looked down at him. The pastor tried to hide the look of disgust spreading across his face, but his efforts were in vain.
“Well, you must be the birthday . . . boy.” Pastor Martin’s lips curled back into a sneering smile.
“And me.” He stepped forward and stood next to Aaron.
Pastor Martin tried to smile even wider, but it only made him look more insincere. “It must be so much fun, having a twin. Double the presents, double the cake.” He nodded at the two distinctly different desserts sitting on the table. “Now, boys,” he said to his three sons, “go play with the other boys.”
His eyes rested on Aaron at the last part. He patted his eldest son, Thomas, on the back and pushed him gently toward the side of the room where the pirates were playing.
“Well,” Pastor Martin said, “I think they’re going to get along splendidly.”
“I think so too.” Aunt Janet had a way of smiling through her eyes when she was happy. This was one of those moments. “Would you like some punch?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
She grinned as he offered her his arm and walked her to the kitchen.
The day of the wedding was the first time he saw the other side of Pastor Martin. He and Aaron were playing with the other kids in the community room of the church while they waited for the ceremony to start. The girls had gone outside to pick wildflowers and were making small wreaths of little white daisies to wear during the service. Deacon Jacob, Pastor Martin’s best man, called them all inside as the groom’s party began to file in. Aaron marched in last, giggling with cousin Lydia and proudly wearing a crown of flowers like all of the other little girls.
He would never forget the look on Pastor Martin’s face as he turned the corner and saw Aaron standing there. His eyes boiled as he strode over to Aaron and ripped the crown to shreds.
“Listen, boy.” His hushed voice was like sandpaper. “Today is my day, your Aunt Janet’s day. You will not embarrass us, running around like some little faggot. Not in front of my entire congregation. Do you hear me?”
He was afraid Pastor Martin was about to hit Aaron, the way his hands clenched around the collar of the little rented tux.
“I said do you hear me, boy?” Flecks of spit shot from his mouth onto Aaron’s face.
Tears streamed down Aaron’s cheeks and dripped onto the dusting of fallen petals on the floor.
The community room was silent. Everyone watched.
The pastor noticed the silence around him and rose back to his full height, brushing a petal from his shoulder.
“Now,” he said to the entire room, “let us have a blessed celebration and a joyous day. I’m getting married!”
The entire room cheered and applauded.
He went to Aaron’s side and held his twin’s hand as the sniffles and tears subsided. He looked up and saw Thomas, Elijah, and Michael glaring at them from the doorway.
• • •
After they moved into Pastor Martin’s house, everything changed for the worse. Aunt Janet somehow convinced him to allow Aaron to bring the big box of dolls with them in the move, but that didn’t last long. It was only a month until the evening they were all playing baseball in the front yard. He could pitch and bat and keep up with Pastor Martin and his boys—their new brothers—but no matter how hard Aaron tried, there was no way to please
him.
“Use your legs, boy. You have to brace yourself. Use your muscles!”
The pastor started to get frustrated, and Aaron began to lose confidence.
Thomas, Elijah, and Michael snickered together near second base.
“He’s trying, Martin. Just let the child have fun.” Aunt Janet spoke softly from the porch.
“Well, if he wants to be a boy, then he needs to play like one.” He repositioned Aaron’s arms and elbows gruffly. “You want to be one of the boys, don’t you?”
Aaron nodded solemnly.
“Good. Then do it like I showed you.”
He held the bat and watched the fear creep into Aaron’s eyes. Pastor Martin hovered over and watched like a hawk. Eager for another failure. The other boys went silent behind them.
He tried to lock eyes with Aaron.
You can do it.
He gave a slight nod.
I believe in you.
Aaron pulled back and launched the ball. It spun wildly and flew into a high arch above them all, landing only a few feet away from their makeshift pitcher’s mound.
He watched Aaron’s face collapse in defeat.
Pastor Martin’s boys threw their gloves and howled in laughter.
Aaron burst into tears.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
He marched past Pastor Martin, past Aaron, right toward Thomas and the other boys.
“Leave him alone!” He could feel fire boiling in his stomach as he approached.
“Or what?” Thomas took a breath to answer him. “You and your little fag brother gonna do something about it?”
He swung the bat and cracked it into the side of Thomas’s face before he even knew what he was doing.
Thomas howled and screamed and began to cry as he collapsed into the grass.
He dropped the bat, stunned by what he’d done, as Pastor Martin rushed over toward them. Aunt Janet shouted from the porch as she ran down into the yard.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” she shouted. “Martin! Martin, don’t hurt him!”
Pastor Martin grabbed his left ear and clamped down like a vise. Pain shot through his head as he winced.
“Get to your room. Now!” Pastor Martin’s eyes boiled with a rage so intense he thought he was going to kill him, right then and there. Livid, the pastor released his grip and threw him back toward the porch as he knelt down to tend to his wailing son.
Aunt Janet ran right past him and Aaron, and went to the grass where Thomas lay howling in pain.
He walked back toward Aaron and reached out to hold hands. Together they walked upstairs to their room.
They waited.
Ten agonizingly long minutes later, they heard Pastor Martin storm up the wooden stairs. Their bedroom door burst open and he charged in.
“Now let me set a few ground rules in my house.”
His emphasis on “my” was apparent.
“All of this girly shit”—he grabbed at Aaron’s toys haphazardly, flinging dolls from shelves and a stuffed animal from the end of his bed—“is gone.”
Aaron sobbed.
“When you are under my roof, you will behave like a little boy ought to behave.” He grasped Aaron’s favorite stuffed animal dog from the floor by his bed and began pulling at its head.
“No!” Aaron screamed between sobs.
“You will do as I say! I do not condone sin. I will not abide some little fairy living in my house and allow him to drag my household down to hell with him.” He spat as he screamed. The dog’s head began to split from its body at the seam.
“And you.” He turned to him now. Quieting into a softer, more threatening rage. “If you ever so much as touch one of my boys again, I will send you out of this house and into foster care so quick your little orphan head will spin, and I will make damn sure you never see your sissy brother again.”
He was right in his face. “Is that clear?”
He nodded.
Pastor Martin let the decapitated stuffed dog fall to the floor and walked out.
He got up from his bed and sat next to Aaron on the bed across the room. Aaron couldn’t stop crying. Deep, guttural cries shook the entire bed as they both sat there.
“I’m never going to leave you,” he said as he took Aaron’s hand.
Aaron’s head drooped even lower in defeat and the sobs came harder. He put his arms around his twin, and they held each other.
“Ever.”
• • •
He remembered the day like it was yesterday. It never left him. He’d had nightmares about it every single night since.
He and Aaron were riding with Aunt Janet to the church for a banquet in Pastor Martin’s honor. He had served the church for twenty-five years, and his entire family had come into town to celebrate. Aaron had battled with Aunt Janet for a half hour about the suit. “All of the other boys are wearing them, Aaron,” she said. “Please. I don’t want any fighting tonight. Would you do it for me?” Aaron gave in, but now they were running very late. He sat in the backseat watching Aaron pout and fidget in the vest and tie, while Aunt Janet went a little faster than usual in order to make it on time.
Red and blue lights flashed behind them and the loud chirp of a police siren announced that she was getting pulled over. Aunt Janet pulled off to the side of the road and grasped her temples. He was convinced she was more afraid of upsetting Pastor Martin than anything else.
The officer approached the car as Aunt Janet rolled down her window.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I’m just running late to my husband’s—”
“License and registration.”
She fumbled through her purse. “Yes, I just . . . I am so late, Officer. My husband has a—”
“I didn’t ask for a story, I asked for your license and your registration. Now.”
His curtness struck a nerve. She looked him in the eye and sighed.
He reached for the door handle and flung it open. “Ma’am, I need you to step out of the vehicle.”
“What? Officer, I’m sorry. I have it right—”
“I said out of the car, now!”
Aunt Janet was shaking as she fumbled with her seat belt and stepped out of the car.
“Officer, I apologize if I was speeding. I just—”
He grabbed her by the back of the neck and slammed her chest to the hood of the car.
Her gasp for breath sounded like a scream.
“You have the right to remain silent—”
She bucked harshly underneath the elbow he pressed into her back. The officer’s partner drew a Taser from his belt and pressed it to her neck as she caught her breath and screamed.
Her cry was cut short. She went into silent convulsions as he sent the first charge into her body.
He released it, and she screamed and gasped for air all at once.
“What did I do?” She was crying, her makeup streaming down her face. “What did I—”
He pressed it to her neck again. It lasted longer this time.
When he finished, a dry, heaving sob came from the back of her throat.
“What . . . did . . . I—”
He pressed it to her neck again and let it go even longer than the last time.
Her body convulsed and shook and went into deep, gut-wrenching tremors. The officer finally pulled away the Taser, but when he did, the air didn’t come back into her lungs. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head and her body still convulsed.
The first officer released his elbow from her back and flipped her over. “Ma’am. Ma’am!” Panic set into the man’s voice.
He and Aaron got out of the backseat and stepped out into the steamy Southern air.
“Get back in the car, boys!”
They didn’t.
Aunt Janet’s body was shaking violently against the car, and she still wasn’t breathing.
“What’s happening to her?” Aaron screamed, terror rising in them both.
“Get back in the car!”
&
nbsp; Aaron ran to her. “Aunt Janet!”
The second officer grabbed Aaron around the waist as the first stepped away and spoke into a small com device, requesting an ambulance.
He walked up slowly. The first officer stood to the side and the second held Aaron, kicking, screaming, and crying. He stood next to Aunt Janet and watched as her body slowly stopped convulsing. She tried to reach a hand toward him but couldn’t lift it. Her eyes were filled with fear and her lips were still working in a futile effort to gulp a breath of air. He watched as stillness crept through her body and into her face. Her eyes locked on to his, and then the stillness found them as well.
The sound of cicadas drowned out the entire world around him and his vision began to blur.
Aunt Janet was dead.
• • •
Life after Aunt Janet’s death was more like a prison sentence than an adolescence. They became the famous orphaned twins of the unarmed woman whose heart stopped from a police Taser. They had nowhere else to go, no other family with whom they could live. With all of the media attention and news cameras around, Pastor Martin didn’t have a choice, really. He had to keep them. Looking back, he wished Pastor Martin had just sent them away. Everything would’ve turned out differently.
• • •
By the time high school came around, things had changed even more. Everyone had forgotten about Aunt Janet and who they were, and stopped talking to them as if they were famous. He did well in school, excelled in both baseball and basketball, and even Pastor Martin had begun to take a sort of quiet pride in him.
That wasn’t the case with Aaron.
For all of Aaron’s fragility as a child, Aaron the teenager had hardened and developed an impenetrable suit of emotional armor by the time high school came around. Insults and slurs rolled off like raindrops on steel, and a sharp tongue and an air of casual apathy were wielded like deadly weapons. Aaron made terrible grades, smoked weed, and took pills behind the gym in between classes, and began to sneak out of the house at night in women’s clothing.
A distance grew between him and Aaron that he’d never felt before. Night after night, Aaron snuck out. He didn’t know where or why. It was as if he didn’t know his own twin anymore, and even worse, it felt like Aaron didn’t want him to.