brother was the only significant person in my life, so if you want to call him my ‘significant other’ I wouldn’t lie and disagree.” He gets that distant look in his eyes again and looks out over the beach. “Our parents died when we were eight. Our aunt and uncle raised us, but we were pretty much a burden on them and their family—they had three other kids. So when we both got into college, that was about it. We exchange Christmas cards, but we were never like real family.
“Did I mention we were twins? Like totally identical. We had our own language and basically spent every waking moment with each other. People who knew us thought we were weird, but they don’t know the half of it.” He stops and looks at me. “Are you sure you want to hear all of this?”
“Fuck yeah. I just poured out my soul to you, so spill, dude.”
“Okay. Twins can be a really weird thing. I was like forty-five minutes older, and my mom was in distress when they were trying to get him out, so they had to do an emergency C-section and they thought he was deprived of oxygen for six minutes, so they were all panicked. When they finally got him out, they put him in an incubator and wouldn’t let us be together. Apparently, I was going ape-shit until they finally put us together in the same incubator. Then I calmed down. And my dad used to tell the same story all the time. While we were in the hospital, they couldn’t ever separate us or else I would just keep going ape-shit until they put us back together. I can’t explain what it was like growing up, but I couldn’t stand being away from him for even ten minutes without hyperventilating and having these panic attacks. He had trouble, too, but not in the same way. I guess I was just so protective because he was my little brother or something.
“It took years of therapy to get us somewhat normal when we were apart, but we were never apart for that long. This is going to freak you out, probably, but we slept together all our lives. Not sexually or anything gross like that, but we shared a bed all the time. You’re sleeping in his room, but he never even used that bed. It wasn’t weird for us, but, duh, society wouldn’t understand two brothers sleeping in the same bed as adults. But we didn’t care. I couldn’t sleep without touching him. And I never felt complete without him. I guess I was never a whole, complete person unless he was with me. So to answer your question, I don’t have anybody because I always had somebody—my other half was literally my other half.”
“What was his name?” I whisper.
“Leonardo. Both my parents were art professors and artists. My father’s favorite artist was Michelangelo and my mom’s was Leonardo Da Vinci.”
I laugh gently. “That actually makes perfect sense.”
“You realize that you asked two questions, right?”
I have to think about this, but it doesn’t take long for me to realize that he’s right. “Okay then. You’re up.”
Michelangelo takes a swig of his beer and smiles. His eyes blaze at me. “Are you gay?” Kaboom!
“Fuck, dude! Really?”
“You don’t have to answer.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I don’t know for sure one way or the other.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s honest,” I tell him. “Feel free to ask a follow-up question if you must,” I add, egging him on a bit.
“No. I’m good. Your turn.”
“Do you really want to be my friend?” I blurt without thinking. Fuck me! How the hell did that happen? I quickly look away, studying the pattern my lime is making as it slowly swirls near the bottom of my bottle.
Michelangelo is silent. After a minute, I look up at him and his eyes are blazing at me again. “I want that more than I’ve wanted anything in a long, long time,” he says.
“Really?” I say, again speaking before my brain has fully activated.
“Absolutely. And that’s five. I win,” he says. I can do nothing but smile, finish my beer and look back at this remarkable human being.
“I want that too,” I say softly, staring into his eyes.
“I didn’t ask,” he says, looking serious.
Oh shit. Did I just screw everything up? He leaves me hanging for another beat or two before he starts laughing. “I didn’t ask, but I was going to.” Our eyes meet again. “I’m glad.”
We sit in silence and finish our beers. He stands up and returns to the window. I follow shortly after. So we’re standing there, side-by-side, looking out the window at the beach with our empty beer bottles for a long time. I don’t know how long, but it was long. And there’s nothing weird about the silence. It’s like what we just shared was all that needed to be said. Well, maybe not forever, but for a good long while. I’m okay with that. Then he turns, squeezes my shoulder with his powerful hand. “I’ve got a meeting in the morning, so I’m going to turn in.”
“Good night,” I say softly.
“Have good dreams,” he offers as he walks towards his bedroom.
“You too.” I hear his beer bottle clink into the recycling bin and his footsteps retreat down the hall. Sparky, who has been sleeping in the corner of the living room through all our drama, wakes, sneezes, and follows him down the hall. “Traitor,” I say. Sparky looks back over his shoulder at me, and he’s looking at me like, “What do you want from me, dude? You’re cool and all, but he pays the rent.”
I turn back towards the window and realize that, once again, I’m all alone. I smile when I realize that I’m not really alone anymore. Not the complete aloneness that has been with me all my life. Michelangelo likes me and wants to be my friend. And at that moment, my chest feels full, like I can actually feel my heart filling up. I take a deep breath, and my body tingles from where he squeezed my shoulder. And with these fresh feelings, I decide to call it a night and go to my room, admire my new clothes again (no, I didn’t forget about them), and go to sleep. Yeah, I also plan to have good dreams, just like Michelangelo told me to.
6. Michelangelo
Well, that just happened, I think as I strip and crawl into bed. I’m trying to recap the conversation I just had with Bran when Sparky jumps up on the bed and throws himself on top of me, wriggling his back all over my face and chest. I reach up to pet him and try to calm him down because I’m really tired and not looking forward to my meeting tomorrow with Marty and Sal, but he’s being a spoiled little shit. And then he calms down a little bit and puts his face right in front of mine, like three inches from my face. As soon as I start to say something to him, he starts licking my mouth. “What the hell, Sparky?” I ask him. He keeps licking. This goes on for another couple of minutes, and as I continue to pet him, rubbing the sides of his face with my hands, he begins to calm down. Then it hits me. He must sense that I am starting to like Bran. He’s jealous! Holy shit, my freaking dog is jealous of my new friend. Okay, that’s more than a little weird. Or maybe he’s happy for me that I have finally found a friend? Nah. He’s jealous. This makes me smile, which makes Sparky rambunctious again. Damn. I have a weird life. Not as bad as it was a few hours ago, but weird all the same. When Sparky has had enough, he calms down and lays down with his head on the pillow next to my head and in a few minutes, we’re both asleep.
***
