Twin Effect

by Ann Somerville

  “You’ll talk to him eventually,” Dylan said. “I know you will. I can see things changing from week to week. But stressing out won’t make it come faster.”

  “I’m not stressed. I’m...depressed. Not sick depressed, just down.” He glared defensively. “You get down, don’t you?”

  “Sure. It’s okay. But I’d like to make things better.”

  “You can’t.” He pushed his plate away. “I should go. Can you manage the pack on your own?”

  “Of course, but Toby—”

  “I’ll email you, I promise. I need to...clear my head. Or not clear it,” he corrected with a curl of his lip.

  “Ring me any time. I’m serious.”

  “I know. Thanks. I mean that.”

  Dylan gave Toby an encouraging smile as he left, but his heart wasn’t in it. If the kid would stop running away, Dylan was sure they would find an answer. But Toby was a wounded animal. Dylan knew how that felt. Better to let him go than to force him to chew his paw off to escape.

  Dylan knew how that felt too.

  He buried himself in work that weekend, but couldn’t shake the deflated feeling. He hoped Toby would come by on Friday as usual, but wouldn’t be too surprised if he didn’t. He wished again that Lisa hadn’t taken such a hard line over the whole thing—she was his best sounding board now that Rachel had gone overseas. He could call Rachel, he supposed, but she knew even less about the subject than he did. Lisa knew the most, but she didn’t want to involve herself, damn it. Dylan should push Toby to speak to his psychiatrist again. The kid wasn’t dangerous or deranged, so the chances of him being sectioned were small, and maybe the psychiatrist would be sympathetic to the situation.

  Or maybe they’d be horrible and rigid and make Toby feel like shit. Toby didn’t seem to have any affection for the medical profession.

  It was all a distraction from his job which he didn’t need right now, and his work didn’t distract him from his worry. He didn’t email Toby but kept hoping for a message. None came. Would he show on Friday?

  He was in the middle of a lecture on Wednesday when one of the department secretaries came in, and signalled that she needed to speak to him urgently. He excused himself and went to the door to talk to her.

  “There’s a student in the office saying he needs to speak to you right now. He’s in some distress. Says his name is Max Symonds, but we don’t have a record of anyone by that name in the department. He’s insisting, but I think we should call Security—”

  “No, don’t do that, Barbara. Could you let him into my office and tell him I’ll be about half an hour? He’s safe. Just rather confused.”

  “Are you sure, Dylan? He doesn’t look dangerous but—”

  “He’s not. Just let him in and I’ll take care of it. Sorry for the trouble.”

  Barbara frowned, but left, hopefully to do as he asked.

  He cleared his throat and faced the clearly curious students. “Sorry about that. Now, back to what I was saying....”

  What the hell was going on? He delivered the lecture faithfully, all the while wondering—worrying—why Max and not Toby had turned up in a state.

  He bolted from the lecture hall as soon as was decent, stomping through the corridors and up the stairs to his office. To his relief, Max was there, sitting quietly, a backpack by the chair. He rose as soon as Dylan came in. “Oh, Dylan. I’m sorry.”

  “Never mind about that. What happened?”

  “Toby’s gone. I can’t hear him and he’s not in charge of the body at all. I found myself in the middle of a class of some kind with no idea what was going on. I excused myself and realised I was at the uni, so I asked how I could find you. I, uh, panicked. He’s gone, Dylan. We’ve lost him.”

  Dylan came over and hugged him. Max cried quietly against his jersey. “Calm down. It’s probably just a temporary thing. Max, look at me.” Max lifted bleary eyes. “We’ll sort it out.”

  “I’m so scared. This isn’t what I wanted.”

  “I know.”

  I need Lisa. Dylan couldn't ask Max to go to Toby’s doctor now, because the doctor would assume Toby had lost his mind. Which he might have, but not in the way the doctor would think. “What do you want to do? You can hide here, or go back to my flat, or even back to your parents, if you think you can—”

  Max shook his head. “No way. I’d never pull that off, and I wouldn’t even try.”

  “Right, I understand. But you’ll have to call and let them know you’re staying somewhere else.”

  “I think I can do that. But do you mind if I stay with you?”

  “Don’t be daft. Do you want to go there now?”

  “No. I want to stay here.”

  “I can’t be in the office all day, Max. I have to go to the lab this afternoon.”

  His words brought a panicky look into Max’s eyes. “Can’t I just sit here quietly? I won’t cause any trouble.”

  “Of course you can stay. Look, it’s nearly lunchtime. Why don’t we...what?” The panicky look was worse now.

  “What if one of his friends sees me?”

  “Bugger. Okay, I’ll get some food and bring it back. If anyone comes in, tell them you’re a visitor. I’ll let the office know.” He bent and kissed Max’s head. “Try and calm down. It’ll be okay.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Hope was all Dylan had. He wasn’t sure he believed his own assurances, but he could hardly tell Max that his worst fears could be realised. Against his better judgement, he called Lisa while he walked to the cafeteria. He left a message but she called back while he was paying. He told her what was going on, and that there was next to no chance of Toby’s doctor being involved.

  “Lisa, I’m begging you. What can I do for this lad?”

  She sighed heavily. “If this is DID, the Max personality has taken over for a reason. Toby comes out in certain settings, like at his parents’ home. I suggest you take him home, tell them what’s going on, and get them to involve his doctor.”

  “I really don’t think Max will agree.”

  “You need to make him. Things have clearly deteriorated, Dylan. You could end up with him having a complete breakdown.”

  “I know. Would hypnosis be worth trying?”

  “You can’t treat him yourself. You have no idea what you could do to him.”

  “But would hypnosis hurt him?”

  “Dylan, you’re making me angry.”

  “Please, Lisa. I’ve been trying to get Toby to go to his doctor, and talking to Max. I know what he’s likely to say. I just thought hypnosis might bring Toby out again.”

  “It might. Under a doctor’s supervision.”

  “He doesn’t like his doctors. Is there any chance you could...?”

  “Not on your request. I’ve told you what you should do. Take him home. His parents will cope better than you think.”

  “All right. I’m sorry to pester you.”

  “I don’t want to play the heavy with you, because I know you want to help. But things have grown worse just as I feared they would. Listen to me on this. Please—for Toby’s sake.”

  “Okay. Love you, sis.”

  “You too. I have to go.”

  It was good advice. Of course it was good advice, coming from Lisa. So Dylan would give it a try. More than a try. He’d use all his limited powers of persuasion to try and get Max to go back home. And likely fail, in which case he and Max were fucked.

  Cheerful thoughts. He had to try and stay positive, at least superficially. Max was already distressed enough. And what about Toby? Was he watching all this? He had to be in there somewhere. No one could just disappear inside their own skin—could they?

  He opened the door of his office. Max was still in the chair by the window. “I hope sandwiches are okay. I bought a couple of newspapers...Max?”

  He put his purchases on his desk and went over to the window. Max’s head was bowed and he was shaking.

  “What’s wrong?”

 
“M-Mum. I c-called her. I talked to her but I couldn’t...tell her I was here. God I miss her, Dylan. I miss Mum and Dad.”

  He broke down. Dylan put his arms around the kid but had no idea what to say. What a mess.

  “I didn’t know I was d-dead. I didn’t miss anyone. Now I miss everyone,” Max whispered. “I wish I’d never come back.”

  “You didn’t have any control over that.”

  “And now Toby’s gone. It’ll break Mum’s heart. She’ll never believe I’m back and even if she did, Toby will be gone. Why is he gone?”

  “I don’t know. Wipe your face. Come on. I got juice but I can make some coffee or tea down the corridor if you want it.”

  Max shook his head, scrubbing his nose. “I’m okay.” The tears that ran from his eyes immediately proved he wasn’t.

  “Not yet.” Dylan stood straight, stroking Max’s hair to comfort him, to reassure himself. He hadn't lost both of them. Not yet. “I called my sister, the doctor. She thinks that if you go home, Toby will come out again.”

  “I can’t. I can’t, Dylan. How can I do that to Mum and Dad?”

  “She thinks they’ll cope better than you believe.”

  “It would be so cruel. Can’t I stay with you and see what happens?”

  Dylan went back to his desk and rummaged through the plastic bag of food. “I hope you like chicken salad.”

  “It’s fine. Dylan?”

  “Lisa was bloody insistent. And I have to say, she has a point. Things have deteriorated, but if Toby had gone to his doctor, they might not have.”

  “I’m not an illness. They can’t ‘cure’ Toby of me. They can’t cure me of him either. I’ve seen his memories. He went through hell. No wonder he didn’t want to talk to them.”

  Dylan handed him the sandwich pack and the juice. “You’re welcome to stay with me. You always are. But Lisa’s a very experienced psychiatrist, and she insisted doing nothing was the wrong thing to do.”

  “Are you going to make me?”

  Dylan shook his head. “How could I? But I want you to think about this. For both of you.”

  “Okay.”

  Max opened his sandwich but left it in his lap, staring out the window. Dylan, who had a busy afternoon and not much more time for a lunch break, couldn’t afford to wait, so he ate while keeping an eye on his guest. He’d always thought a chance to live again after you died would be a good thing. Not so much, by the look of it.

  “Eat up,” he said as he ditched his own empty sandwich pack. “I have to go to the lab but I can pop back in to see how you are.”

  “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Do you realise what a stupid thing that is to say? I’ve been worried about you almost since I met you.”

  Max gave him a small smile. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Now, will you really be all right? Use my desk if you want to read the papers. Just don’t touch the computer.”

  “Wouldn't know what to do with it.”

  Maybe he should have encouraged Max to use it then, Dylan thought. Toby might come back to help his brother. But he didn’t want to give the IT bods a heart attack by letting an unauthorised person use a lecturer’s computer. “I’ll be done by four. If you need me, go back to the office and ask them to find me.”

  “Okay.”

  Dylan would have preferred a more confident tone to Max’s voice and the kid looking a little less like a bomb waiting to go off, but he really, really had to be somewhere else in five minutes. He told himself that Max had already shown himself sensible even while terrified, and went off to deal with his post-graduate students, hoping madly that no other disaster occurred while he was gone.

  He didn’t get his wish, though ‘disaster’ was overstating it. The sensor the team were working on, and which they were hoping to demonstrate the following Monday in a progress meeting with the development partners, decided to misbehave quite spectacularly. Tracking down what could be multiple faults and retesting could take the rest of the week and possibly the weekend. Great. Just when Dylan wanted some free time to deal with Max’s problem.

  There was nothing for it but to get started. He worked with the team all afternoon, tracing back the new additions to code and hardware, and trying to find what was causing the sensor to stubbornly ignore some inputs and react incorrectly to others.

  After hours of work, they had found two faults, though others, less serious, remained. “Right, Ahmed, Jen, we need—” He glanced up and looked at the clock. Six o’clock. “Bugger. I didn’t know it was that late. Let’s pick this up in the morning. Jen, make sure nothing’s changed before then. If any of you have any inspirations, tell me before you try to implement them, and please document everything. I have to go.”

  He dashed back to his office. Damn it, he’d not intended to leave Max alone for half this time. He found the kid sitting at his desk, his head on his arms. Asleep, it looked like.

  “Max?” Dylan kept his distance, worried a frightened Max or Toby might come rushing out of the chair at him. “Max, it’s Dylan.”

  With a little more vocal encouragement, Max roused and sat up. “Oh. It’s dark.” He looked around muzzily. “What time is it?”

  “After six. I’m so sorry. We had a problem and—”

  “S’okay. I had a nap.” He stretched and yawned, then paused as if checking something. “Toby’s still not here.”

  “Not surprising, really. Come on. Let’s go back to the flat and have supper.”

  Max trailed along behind Dylan, buried in Toby’s ridiculous coat, uncharacteristically quiet. Dylan wasn’t any great conversationalist himself, absorbed in worrying about the sensor, and what to do with Max while he was at work.

  When they reached his address, Max roused. “You look as if I’m the last thing you need, Dylan. I could—”

  “What? Go home?”

  “No...I’m sure there’s somewhere....”

  “Don’t be a prat. Come upstairs and stop talking nonsense. You’re welcome. You’re always welcome. Move.”

  Max raised his eyebrows at the terse command, but obeyed. No wonder you’re single, Gallaher.

  Max helped him put the meal together. It sent a pang through Dylan’s chest to see how easily Max moved around his home, and around him. He belongs here. Max was right. He wasn’t an illness. The idea of Toby being ‘cured’ of him was revolting.

  “Are you mad at me?” Max hadn’t yet touched his food, and stared earnestly at Dylan as Dylan handed him his coffee.

  “No, of course not.”

  “You’re grumpy.”

  “Sorry. Problem with the thing we’re working on. It’s not you.”

  “Oh good. What are you working on?”

  “A way for artificial hands to send feedback about pressure and surface to the user through their skin. At the moment, the main line of attack on that uses brain implants, but I thought there could be a less invasive way of doing it.”

  “So the hand could feel a rose petal, maybe?”

  Dylan gave Max a wry look. “Not that subtle, I’m afraid. But we hope they will be able to judge resistance and possibly slipperiness. It would make gripping and picking up things much more natural.”

  “Not the same though.”

  “No. I’m not Luke Skywalker yet.”

  Max smiled and began to eat. “It’s all so clever though. I wish I had that kind of brain.”

  “You’re artistic. Separate, just as impressive skills. I wish I could see your work.”

  Max looked down, apparently occupied with the complex task of loading his fork. “I don’t know where any of it is. Toby thinks it was all sold, apart from what Mum and Dad kept in the house. If he doesn’t come back...I can’t be him but I can’t be me either. How can I walk back into my old life? It’s all gone.”

  Dylan had no answer. On TV, dead people came back to life and apparently no one was surprised at all. It worked for Buffy, after all. But in real life, records got cancelled, phone numbers we
re transferred, and the grieving loved ones moved on. “Let’s wait and see what happens.”

  “I never wanted this. If Toby comes out tonight, you tell him that, Dylan. Tell him I need him to come back.”

  Dylan planned to. But first, Toby had to come out.

  He lay awake for a long time that night, holding Max in his arms, listening for Toby. Wondering what he would do if Toby never came back. He couldn’t just let Max struggle through on his own.

  And it was then he decided that if Toby didn’t return, Max would always have a home with him. Dylan didn’t want to lose Max too. It was more than pity, more than guilt over whatever role he’d played in this happening. He needed Max to stay. He needed Max.

  He nuzzled the wild curls, and tightened his grip on the kid’s long skinny body. He wished Max would wake up. Or that Toby would.

  He’d already lost so much.

  Chapter 8

  Max took the news calmly that Toby hadn’t appeared, which was something. “What do I do now?” he asked Dylan while they ate breakfast. Or while Dylan ate and Max picked unenthusiastically at a piece of toast.

  “For now, stay here, make yourself at home. Um...but I had an idea. You’re going to need clothes, and your parents will be worried about you. Why don’t we drop over—”

  “Dylan, I can’t.”

  “Wait. Let me finish. I know you’ll find it hard. I’m counting on that. I think Toby might re-emerge to help you.”

  “I’d never be able to hold it together. Mum will know.”

  Dylan reached over with his good hand and touched Max’s. “And this would be a bad thing why?”

  “Because she...she might have Toby locked up.”

  “I don’t think so. Look, I have to go. Think about it, and I’ll phone you later.”

  “Uh, I think Toby’s phone needs charging and I don’t have the charger.”

  “Another reason to go back to the house then. Okay, I’ll call the landline. If it’s not me, just say you’re a friend visiting, and take a message. Most people call my mobile anyway.”

  Max nodded, but as Dylan moved away, getting ready to go, he gripped Dylan’s hand. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m terrified of hurting them.”