Twin Effect

by Ann Somerville

  Toby smiled, his eyes sad and unseeing. “No, I’m really not. I’m better than I was. Time heals, even if the doctors don’t. But the only difference between me then and me now is that I’ve accepted he’s gone, and that I have to live like this. Like you and your hand. Only there’s no way to make me a fake brother to help fill the gap. No one can see my scars. You’re lucky that way.”

  “I guess. Never thought of it as lucky before, though.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just...trying to explain.”

  “I know. It’s okay. So what will you do?”

  “Now? Things go back the way they were. The drugs will keep ‘Max’ under control, I keep on with my degree, and I try to find a way to live with part of my heart missing.”

  Dylan so badly wanted to hug the kid, but Toby’s body language, his avoidance of Dylan’s eyes, warned him to keep his distance. “Is there anything I can do? I want to help. I don’t mind talking anytime, at uni or here.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve done so much talking about this over the last few years. It would be so nice to have a conversation that didn’t revolve around how crazy I am, or why.”

  “You’re not crazy.”

  “Oh I am, but I’m not dangerous. You’ve been very kind. I’m sorry I yelled the other day.”

  “It’s fine. I understood. Look, if you need to talk...about your studies or the course or anything, my door’s open. Drop by the lab if you like. We’re working on some interesting projects.”

  Toby frowned. “I’m not an engineer.”

  “Doesn’t matter. What do you plan to do with your degree?”

  He shrugged. “Teach, I guess. No one expects maths teachers to be charismatic.”

  “Not finance?”

  Toby choked out a laugh. “Do I look like a banker?”

  “Uh no. Computing?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “Then you might find what we’re doing worth looking at. Uh, Max was an artist?”

  “Yeah. Wood carver. Really talented. Dad taught him. He tried to teach me but I just didn’t have the aptitude. Max took to it from, like, when he was seven or eight. He made the most beautiful things. Jewellery, furniture, household stuff, you name it. He never took a class in it. He wasn’t one for academic work. We were chalk and cheese like that.” Toby rubbed his eyes. “You know, one of these days I’ll be able to talk about it and not get all teary.”

  “Maybe. In about twenty years.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Just being realistic. My parents died in a train derailment when I was thirteen, so my sister raised me. You grieve, you accept, and the pain dulls eventually, but it never really goes completely. Phantom pain. You learn to deal. You have learned.”

  “You understand better than I thought you would.”

  “The walking wounded are all around us, Toby. Some of us bear scars, most of them don’t. So I meant what I said. About talking. And the lab.”

  “Okay. But I should leave you alone now.”

  “Are you working today? At Waitrose?”

  Toby looked away. “No, I quit.”

  “Because of me?”

  “No. Not really. I was going to quit anyway, because of studying. I just quit a little earlier. I have some money saved. It was more a form of rehabilitation than anything else.”

  “I’m sorry I—”

  “It wasn’t you. It was me. And now I’m going. Thanks for not calling the police on me.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Dylan lied. “It’s still raining. I can lend you a brolly.”

  “I’m okay. My clothes are damp anyway.”

  And with that, he left, the flat lessened for his absence. And Max’s.

  Chapter 6

  Dylan stayed in the next two Fridays, waiting for a visit Toby had said he wouldn’t make. Pathetic, really, but he felt he should be there just in case. The third Friday, he put his foot down to his guilty side, and went out to the pub where he’d met Max. He figured he had to get over himself sooner or later, and the sooner, the better.

  Lisa agreed about that, at least, though with nothing else he’d done. She’d freaked out when he’d told her what had happened with ‘Max’ and Toby, although she’d admitted, with obvious reluctance, it was unlikely Toby was worse off for it. She seemed dubious about the anti-depressants being responsible for any of it. Dylan didn’t know, and wasn’t going to pursue it. No one had been hurt, at least not physically, and Toby was no more unstable than he had been. Dylan was no expert—as Lisa had made painfully clear—but to him, Toby had seemed better in some ways.

  But Dylan had to get over his Max fixation. The kid was a figment of Toby’s imagination, the sign of a misfiring brain. Or something. He’d done everything else he could to put ‘Max’ out of his head—keeping busy, not dwelling as much as he was able not to dwell, not seeking Toby out—but every time he went past this pub, it hurt.

  And he didn’t want it to hurt any more. So he didn’t pass by this night, but went in. With the colder weather, the regulars were inside and the place crowded, but there was still space for him to have a table to himself to sit with a pint and a book. A couple of blokes smiled at him. The smiles held the hint of invitation—if he wanted to see it that way. Maybe ‘Max’ hadn’t been so weird to find him attractive after all. Maybe amputees with thinning ginger hair and a limp were ‘in’ right now.

  Or maybe Dylan wasn’t sending out the same ‘I’m a miserable sod, leave me alone’ vibes that he had when he first moved here. He had settled in fine. Work was busy, good, rewarding. He’d spoken to both Kieran and Rachel, and neither had mentioned the dreaded ‘A’ word. Kieran’s excitement about having a little sister in time for Christmas in a few weeks’ time had reached near supercritical levels, and Rachel was mainly interested to hear how Dylan found the new job. Dylan could even mention her new bloke without his unreasonable feelings of concern and jealousy making him bitter. He had improved.

  But he still didn’t want company particularly, so he smiled back at the two men but didn’t join them at their table. One day, he might do.

  He drained his pint, but not with the sense of satisfaction that it usually brought. The beer was fine. It was the pub. It seemed...less. He didn’t know why.

  Yes, he did. Christ, he needed to get over this.

  He contemplated his glass, and wondered if he should switch to whisky. Just the one, and then home. He’d proven something to himself tonight, even if it hadn’t lifted the cloud on his soul. Oh well.

  “Dylan?”

  The pint glass skittered out of his grasp. His visitor saved it going off the edge of the table. “M-Max?”

  “No, it’s Toby. Can I talk to you?”

  “Sure. Sit down. Look, I was about to buy another drink. Do you want a pint of cider?”

  “Um, I’d prefer the bitter if you don’t mind. Don’t like cider. Just a half, though. I can pay—”

  “It’s fine. Be right back.”

  Bitter, not cider. Of course. He wasn’t Max.

  Dylan went for a half of bitter too. He needed a clear head. He set the drinks down on the table and slid into his seat. “How did you know to find me here? I didn’t tell you where I’d met him.”

  “No. He did. Cheers.”

  Toby sipped his pint, avoiding Dylan’s eyes. Dylan, for his part, was working hard to overcome his shock.

  “I, er, thought you thought he...that the anti-depressants....”

  “Yeah. I was wrong. He’s been leaving me notes. Making things, even. He left a little ornament on the kitchen table for Mum. A candlestick. I had to pretend I’d bought it at the market because it reminded me of his work.” Toby looked up. “Dylan, I can’t carve wood to save my life. It’s him. It’s really him. He’s back.”

  Toby rubbed the tears from his eyes and sniffled. Dylan could hardly breathe. “This...uh...have you talked to your doctor?”

  “No, and I’m not going to.” Toby’s voice rose, and a nearby customer glanced
his way. But he managed to collect himself and lower his voice again. “It’s not me being mental. He’s really here. He misses me, and I miss him so much. But I can’t talk to him or see him. We can only leave messages.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I dunno. He just said you would help. You’re the only one who knows. I don’t know what this is. Is he haunting me? He seems so real. So like he was. But does that mean he’s trapped in my body forever? Has he been here all the time?”

  “I really don’t know, Toby. I’m not a religious man at all, but it sounds like something a priest could deal with better than me.”

  “Don’t believe in God. Haven’t since I was ten. Anyway, a priest would just try to exorcise him or something. I don’t want to lose him. I want my brother back with me.”

  “I don’t think you can have him back the way he was.” Dylan kept his voice calm. The kid’s was shaking, like the rest of him. “Have some more beer. Let’s take this calmly, okay? I’ll do what I can.”

  Toby nodded and sniffled again. “The first couple of times he left a message, I thought it was...you know, a ‘personality’. But then he started to talk about things we both knew about, but that he knew more about than me, and then he mentioned a couple of things that only he could have known. The little candlestick was the proof. He’s been going into Dad’s workshop to make things. Dad hasn’t been there since Max died...I mean, the accident. I wish I could tell him about Max, but he’d think I was crazy. Still crazy.”

  “It could be hard for them to handle even if they didn’t think that. It’s not how it’s supposed to work, is it?”

  “I know, but...Max saw Granny. Maybe there’s something special about him. Or maybe being twins does it? Do I have to know why?”

  His voice was getting loud again. Dylan patted the air as a hint. “No, you don’t. Finish that up, and then do you want to come back to my place to talk? It’s more private.”

  “I was hoping you’d offer. Don’t need another reason for people to want to section me.”

  “Um...I should be honest about one thing. My sister—”

  “The psychiatrist.”

  “Yeah. She’s furious with me over you. She says you should be talking to your doctor, and I should stay out of it. I understand what you said and why...but she thinks you’re ill.”

  “I’m sure she does. But if I’m not hurting you or anyone else, does it matter?”

  “Not to me, but I don’t want you hurt either, Toby. You have a life ahead of you. What if I cause you to...need to be hospitalised again?”

  “I can’t see how you can make it worse. This is happening whether you’re involved or not.”

  “Okay. But if I think you need medical help, I’ll arrange it. You have to understand that, or I can’t talk to you about this.”

  Toby nodded. “No, I understand. I know why you’re scared. I scare me sometimes. I used to, anyway. But I’ve never been dangerous, I swear.”

  “Good enough for me. Finished?”

  Toby swallowed the last gulp of beer and got to his feet. Dylan let him lead the way. Lisa would wring his neck over this, but she would never accept that Max could somehow be real. If he was, then Dylan wanted to see him again.

  Back at the flat, he made them both tea and toasties. Toby settled on the sofa with his food, calm and more relaxed than he had been in the pub. “You’re being very decent over all this.”

  Dylan shrugged. “You can’t help it, and I like Max. Uh...did he tell you that he, uh....”

  “What?”

  “Um...fancies me. Nothing happened,” he added hastily. “Just a kiss or two. And that was before...I mean, it wouldn’t happen again now. You’re not gay, obviously.”

  “Obviously? Damn, I need to start wearing my double Mars earring again.”

  The flush rose up Dylan’s face like a steam burn. “You’re gay?”

  “Yeah. Just like Max. There are lots of gay identical twins, you know.”

  “Ah. Right. Well...okay. But that doesn’t mean I’d violate your bodily integrity.”

  Toby actually grinned. “By kissing my brother?”

  “Letting him kiss me, actually. He was insistent. Persistent.” And gorgeous. Too young, Dylan had thought. That wasn’t the half of it.

  “That’s Max.” Toby’s smile faded. “I think that’s what he wants me to talk to you about. If we’re sharing a body, how do we manage it? He only comes out when I’m asleep. Isn’t it fair he should be able to have friends and see things? Do things? Even people?”

  “How would you feel about that? What if he’s having sex with someone you don’t know or don’t like? What if he gets drunk and you have to handle the hangover? If he commits an offence, you’re the one going to jail, Toby.”

  “He’s not like that.” Dylan frowned impatiently at that. “He’s not. But that’s how you can help, right? You can talk to him. Ask him what he wants.”

  “What do you want, Toby? It can’t be all about him.”

  “But I have a body and a life. I’m not doing anything worthwhile with it. You don’t understand. I would have given him my life, if he could have...if it would have saved him.” He gulped. “I wanted to die so I could see him again. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give him, if he’ll stay.”

  Dylan stalled by taking a bite of his toastie. He didn’t like the sound of this. If Toby was suicidal, even just potentially, Dylan had no business encouraging him. On the other hand, talking to Max about this could help. Maybe he could call Lisa...and she could rip his balls off.

  “Dylan?”

  He swallowed his food. “I don’t mind talking to him. I’d like to. I miss him. He’s a good kid. But so are you. I won’t let you throw yourself away. I’m deadly serious.”

  “You don’t have to be all melodramatic. I told you, the doctors said I’m sane.”

  “The same doctors you’re not telling about your dead brother sharing your brain.”

  Toby looked away. “Max is better than me.”

  “Stop. Stop that right now. Toby, you have worth. If I think you’re trying to end yourself for his sake, or lose yourself...no. I won’t be part of that. And neither will Max. He loves you. He would never let you sacrifice yourself for him.”

  Toby bowed his head. Soft, sad sounds had Dylan moving over to the sofa and wrapping his arm around Toby’s shoulder as easily as he would do for one of Lisa’s kids. “Don’t, Toby,” he murmured. “I’ll talk to him. You won’t lose him. But I won’t lose you either.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “I know Max loves you. I know you are willing to help him have a life of his own. I know you’re strong, and bright, and young with so much to experience and learn.”

  “But he—”

  “Is dead. Yes, alive in one sense, but his path went a different direction. You have to go on your own.”

  “I don’t have a path. I’m just treading water. Keeping busy until I die. I don’t have anything I want to do...not any more.”

  “But before, you did.”

  “Never thought about it. We were just kids. I was enjoying my studies, Max was just starting to make a name for himself. We never thought about...after. I never thought he would...I thought we’d always be together. That I would always have him, and he would have me. But then that drunk....” He huddled in around himself even tighter. “I feel like...I never really got started, then everything ended. I ended. This....” He thumped his leg. “It’s as fake as your hand.”

  “No, it’s not. I lost my parents. Does that make me fake?”

  “Not the same.”

  Dylan shook him. “Why? Because you have this special pain that only twins experience? Bullshit.”

  “You don’t understand. I lost something that day, and I’ve never found it again. It’s not grief. It’s this cold, granite hard emptiness that nothing can fill. But when I realised Max was really here...you want to help? Help me talk to him. Help him stay. That’s what I need.”


  This was going nowhere. Talking to Max was probably the best option. “You promise not to make a move to harm yourself in any way?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Say it, Toby. Out loud.”

  “I won’t hurt myself, I promise, Dylan. Just talk to him.”

  “All right. Um, you’ll need to be asleep. No hurry.”

  “I can kip out here. I fall asleep easily.”

  Dylan stood. “When you’re ready. I’ll leave, uh, Max’s toothbrush out for you.”

  Toby managed a smile. “Same germs.”

  “That’s right. I can sit up for a bit.”

  “No, that’s fine. I want to get on with this. Besides, I’m tired. Funny, sleep doesn’t make me as rested as it used to.”

  Which wasn’t actually funny. Being overtired wouldn’t do a depressed young man any good, and if it went on for too long, who knew what it would do to Toby’s physical and mental health?

  But now wasn’t the time to talk about it. “Right, I’ll bring you some bedding. If you’re hungry, raid the kitchen. Make yourself at home.”

  “Thanks, Dylan. I can see why Max likes you so much.”

  Dylan was so not going to pick that one up.

  ~~~~~

  “Dylan? Are you awake?”

  He must have been on the verge of wakefulness to have heard the quiet words. He grunted, his voice not ready for action.

  “Did you talk to Toby?”

  Dylan rolled over to face Max in the darkness. “Yeah. He’s a mess.”

  “I guessed. I don’t know what to do for him.”

  Dylan reached out and snagged Max. “Lie down,” he mumbled.

  Max snuggled into his embrace. Dylan enjoyed it despite his best intentions. He shouldn’t be using Toby’s body for personal comfort. But he was comforting Toby and Max too, right?

  “Max, Toby’s worrying me. He’s utterly uninterested in his own future. He only sees himself as a vehicle for your survival.”

  “No! Dylan, he’s the nicest person. So much better than me. So kind and clever and thoughtful. He glows from inside.”

  “Not right now he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to talk to a doctor because he’s afraid they’ll lock him up or do something to take you away from him. But I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know how this could be happening.”