Identical twins bond in the womb. As early as fourteen weeks after gestation they’re reaching for each other. At eighteen weeks they touch the other twin’s body more than their own. Scientific researchers have even filmed grainy videos of tiny swimming embryos, their transparent fingers lingering over each other’s faces, gently caressing delicate eyelids, fragile noses and budding ears. Looking out for each other even before they’re born.
I believe it was like that for Birdie and me. Even though we had our own amniotic sacs, we shared a womb. We sensed each other’s presence right from the start. We were inseparable. Bound to each other.
Things went wrong much, much later.
According to Dennis he fought a twenty-four-hours-a-day battle to stop our mom from shooting up heroin when she was pregnant. Maybe in that watery uterine world, Birdie and I could sense the intensity of her hunger. But we had each other to keep away the danger. When we were tiny babies, Dennis said we wouldn’t even take a bath alone. He had to put us both in the water and we’d cling on to each other, slick as a pair of baby seals, longing to be close again.
When I lost Birdie, I felt like half of me was gone. Like the limbs on one side of my body had been amputated. I had to find her to feel whole again. Had to believe in the jigsaw of memories and images that spilled into my head at random intervals, inspired by a particular place or person or maybe even a smell or color.
But Guy couldn’t know any of this. How could he understand what it feels like to lose the other part of you? When you look into a mirror and realize half your identity has been erased and you have no idea where it’s gone.
I changed into something smart but comfortable to go to Gord and Nancy’s. My other clothes were covered with smears of mud and grass from the riverbank.
Pushing that part of the past into the back of my brain, I checked myself in the mirror. It was so much easier to think of clothes. To distract myself with the soothing details of a well-groomed professional appearance.
I dressed in slim, black slacks, a white shell top with a deep V neckline to show off my silver medallion, and a short, fitted houndstooth jacket. I tousled my hair and fastened on a pair of silver hoop earrings. Remembering Guy loved red lipstick, I applied it generously then stood back to gauge the full effect. I hardly recognized the glossy, well-dressed woman who looked back at me.
Success was at my fingertips. I should have been completely happy. And I was to an extent. Happy with Guy, excited at my new job, secure with money for the first time ever. So what was eating at me?
Birdie. Birdie was the missing piece.
Without her I was “a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage”, as Shakespeare so aptly puts it in the words of the tormented butcher, Macbeth, when he muses upon the loss of his wife.
Guy’s face lit up when I ran towards his car. I sat back in the seat, pushed my hair behind my ear and smiled. He was still staring when I leaned over to kiss him.
“You are the sexiest, most incredibly gorgeous teacher I’ve feasted my eyes on. I could eat you up.” He traced a finger around my chin. “Let’s do a little late-night detention duty tonight.”
I pushed him away. “You’re so cheesy. And while I’m at it, please don’t talk in clichés when you’re trying to sell me on Gord’s project. I despise them.”
He shot a pained look at me. “I don’t. I’m just trying to be cooperative.”
“Sorry, it’s just that you’re catching the cliché habit from your dad.”
He pulled out from the parking spot. Traffic was heavy. “He does tend to get carried away sometimes. Then he falls back on hackneyed phrases. But the truth is he’s really very insecure.”
“You’re kidding,” I said as we pulled up at a red light. “He’s the cockiest, most self-assured guy I’ve met.”
Guy took a long, deep breath. “I know he’s all bluster and bravado, but it’s all a front. He comes from humble beginnings.”
“So what’s the problem with that?”
Guy ran a hand through his hair, the other tapped at the steering wheel. “You don’t get it. Dad has to be the best at everything. It’s hard-wired into him. But he’s just a guy who scraped through a general degree in some state university and never made it any further. He built his business with hard work and raw charisma but he’s embarrassed by his poor vocabulary. Tries to compensate by studying the dictionary and memorizing quotable sayings.” He darted a worried glance at me. “Don’t ever mention I told you that.”
“Never,” I said, pulling an imaginary zipper across my lips.
We drove past the Stone Arch Bridge. I turned my head away, those carved initials still lingering at the back of my mind. But I pushed the thought aside and tried hard to concentrate on the way the sun etched Guy’s profile with light.
“So how does he feel about you and your doctorate?”
“You’re too smart to ask me that, Anna. You already know the answer. So tell me.”
The image of those carved initials kept reappearing at the back of my mind. How had Birdie’s initial appeared on top of mine? But I sensed Guy had asked me something important. Something vital to his own self-image. I studied his face, the slight furrow scored between his eyebrows, the long lashes behind the glasses and the faint stubble on his chin. His vulnerability brought a lump to my throat. I wanted to lean against him. Tell him I’d support him whatever happened, so I ripped my mind back to the present.
“Okay. I’d say he’s proud of you, but at the same time you’re a constant reminder of his own inadequacy and that’s what drives his engine. His need to dominate the upstart professor is in constant conflict with the guilt that he’s competing with his only son. How’s that?”
I could swear tears glistened in his eyes. “Right on the money,” he said, reaching out to grasp my hand. “That’s why he’s always needling me – always trying to call the shots. If he has the upper hand then he feels he’s less of a loser. So he goes on the attack before anyone else can fire the first missile and put him down.”
“Why do you go along with it?”
He shook his head. “It’s easier that way. When he’s happy, everyone’s happy.”
“You mean your mom?”
“Especially her.”
“But not you.” I squeezed his hand. “You put so much into that street kids’ outreach program. Why don’t you just tell Gord you want to keep going with it?”
His eyes narrowed and he chewed his lower lip. “You mean well, Anna. I know you do, but you just don’t get it. Going against Dad is like starting a mutiny. It’s not worth the headache.” He paused for a moment, then lowered his voice. “Our family has had its share of troubles in the past and now things have settled down. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“What kind of troubles?”
He nodded. “Mom and Dad went through a rough patch when I was younger. A long time ago.”
“What happened?”
He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. Concentrated on the road ahead. “I don’t know. Other women, I think. It’s tough to talk about.”
“She left him?”
“She tried. But it’s not easy when you have a kid and… shit…” The screech of brakes and blare of a horn shattered the moment. “I almost sideswiped that guy.”
A truck squealed by. The driver gave Guy the finger.
“Can we talk about something else?” he said, lifting his glasses and pressing at his eyelids.
“But this is about your life and your ambitions. Not your father’s. So what’s the worst that can happen? He’ll have a hissy fit and then he’ll get over it. We’re all adults, aren’t we?”
“Sometimes Dad can be like a big kid. Mom and I know it’s best to humor him at those times. Life runs smoother for everyone if we do.” He sighed as we pulled up to yet another traffic light. “But I promise I’ll think about keeping the project going. I’ll do it on the quiet.”
I remembered Robin’s sad, puppy-dog face. “Robin’s gung-ho about his street kids’ outreach program. Thanks to you and Brian they got a grant for it.”
We pulled away, following the slow stream of rush-hour cars on their way to the suburbs. A light drizzle fogged the windshield. “That was the luckiest day of my life, coming to your school.” We pulled up at another red light and he dipped over to kiss my temple. “I met you.”
“So what did you think when Robin first called you about the presentation?”
“Let me think. I should remember because his accent stuck with me. That weird Brit and US mix. He rambled on a bit then mentioned that I’d come highly recommended, by some talented teacher at his school.”
My face flushed and I turned away to watch the drab brown freeway walls flashing by. I glanced back, hoping the blush wasn’t too evident. From the corner of my eye, I could see him grinning.
“Holy crap – was that you? Were you the one who recommended me?”
I watched a homeless man wheel a packed shopping cart up a steep incline away from the freeway.
Guy persisted. “C’mon, Anna. That’s sweet. I love the idea that you noticed me. I remember when I got to your school I had this weird feeling that something life changing was about to happen. I mean I don’t usually believe in all that karma crap. But I was actually looking out for someone to walk up and tell me they were my secret admirer. And I was hoping like hell it wasn’t the wiry female bodybuilder with the fake tan. Or the weird science guy with the bed-head hair. But all the time it was you. I should have known. The way you were hanging back but still checking me out. You had a hungry look in your eyes – sort of predatory and brooding. I couldn’t resist you.”
“I did no such thing,” I said, playing with my silver medallion. “You were the one checking me out.”
“I couldn’t take my eyes off you. That wild, dark hair and those lips. It was all I could do to stick to my notes. And I was terrified I’d develop a huge hard-on and they’d kick me out for lewd behavior.”
“Beast,” I said, snuggling closer.
“I love you, Anna,” he whispered. My chest tightened. I felt that old fear creeping in again, but somehow I felt more connected to the present – to the reality of what was actually happening now.
“I’m glad we met, Guy. So glad.”