“You sound
just like me,” said William, now completely surprised, fear beginning to well
up from his stomach.
“I’m your
twin. We’ve been separated a long time.”
William
laughed. “I think Dad would have told me about you.”
“You don’t
remember everything,” said the voice.
“Oh?” said
William. “Was Dad in on the joke?”
“That’s
right,” said the voice.
“Well, friend,
“ said William, “I guess you’re going to give me some proof of this.”
“Belin gusa,”
said the voice.
“No, it’s
mine!” William all but shouted.
The voice
laughed.
William began
to remember. Someone was trying to take
away his … what was it? His mind was
instantly transported back in time. He
tried to think of where he was but no words would come. None that he recognized.
“Watel ara fin
tick au trig,” William said. Although he
barely understood himself, he knew he was telling the man to back off.
“Our
language,” said the voice. “You remember it well, my brother.”
“How could I
forget I had a twin?” William wondered aloud.
“He made us
forget,” said the man.
“I mean …
forget my own brother, like you never existed.”
“He made us
forget, William.”
“Arthur? Is
that you?” said William in the private language that twins concoct in their
cradle.
“He didn’t
want us to grow up together,” said Arthur.
“Why?” said
William.
“He didn’t
want us to remember each other,” Arthur persisted.
“Who did this
to us?” William cried.
“He wanted us
to forget,” said Arthur.
“Who could be
so cruel?” said William. “Why would anyone separate us?”
“He had the
tools, the skills, the need,” said Arthur.
“But he didn’t know about our secret language. He erased everything but that.”
“Who did this to us?” cried
William again.
“Our father, Jack,” said Arthur,
“when he realized we saw him kill Mother.”
“Now, I remember,” said
William. “In the bedroom. The knife.
All that blood.”
“When I remembered our language,
then I remembered everything,” said Arthur. “And then I came looking for you.”
“I wouldn’t have remembered
anything …” said William
“… if I hadn’t called.” said
Arthur. “I just need your address.”
“My address? Why?” said William.
“It’s been almost thirty years,”
said Arthur.
“But there’s really no need ….”
began William, now wary, but unsure why.
“But of course we must get together. And soon,” said Arthur.
“But Dad is …” said William.
“You have to kill him, William. I can’t.
You must kill him.”
“Oh, no, I could never do that,”
said William.
“You must!” said Arthur, “before
he finds out we know. He’ll kill us for
sure.”
“Oh, Arthur, what is going
on?” said William, now very worried that
he was not keeping up with something that might hurt him.
“Forget it. Spell the key, William,” Arthur said.
“I can’t,” said William. “Oh Arthur, don’t leave me again. I can’t do
this.”
“Shut it down,” shouted Arthur
over the phone. “Spell, it, William!”
“S-O-P-L-M-O-M,” spelled William.
“Dah pah,” said Arthur. “Maybe
next time.”
William hung up the phone. He thought he must have dozed, and he’d had
the strangest dream. Someone had wanted
him to do something, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what.
William’s father toddled out of
the bedroom, down the hall and into the living room.
“Who was on the phone?” the old man asked.
“I don’t know,” said William. “I’m not sure it was anyone.”
"What do you mean?" said
Jack.
"Could I possibly have a
twin?" said William.
The old man’s eyebrows lifted and
then settled down heavily. He turned
toward the kitchen.
“I’ll be right back,” he
said. “I need to get a knife.”
copyright 2012, David Griffin
The Windswept Press
Murrells Inlet, South Carolina
