“Any siblings?” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Wednesday, March 13, 2013
1:42am
5 minutes
Wit
Margaret Edson


Tal was born four minutes after May. She screamed bloody murder, awaking the children asleep next door. He, on the other hand, gazed into his father’s eyes, silently, a faint smile curling his small lips. This wasn’t some sort of prediction of what was to come – in all of their years they would both rebel, they would both be insolent, and lovely, and indignant, they would both love, and lose, and succeed, and dream. Tal would bite the ends of many pencils, May would drink a few too many tallboys of beer. Believe what you hear about twins, how they’re inexplicably connected, how one feels one thing and the other does, too. It’s truer than the fog, coating the park outside May’s window this morning. She lifts the purple receiver of the phone she’s had since she was a teenager. Her fingers know the map of Tal’s phone number without her brain having the kick in. “Yup?” says a voice more familiar than the sunset. “Tal?” says May, “I forget how many eggs go into Mom’s pancakes… Three or four?” “Three.” Tal is a man of few words. “K…” May doesn’t want to let him go. Portland is too far away. “Have you decided about Easter?” “What?” “If you’re coming back?” “I can’t get away. They need me at the paper.” “But..” “May, I gotta go.” “K…” “May?” “Yeah?” “Love you.” “Love you, too.” They pause for a second. “You hang up first, idiot.” “No, you…”