Twin
76 Twin D ave and I are sitting in the pawpaw tree in her backyard. I can reach out and touch an almost ripe pawpaw. Its skin is green but it is soft. “Papaya,” says Dave, “not pawpaw.” I say, “I’m going to tell you something that happened and it’s a secret. “ She just sits there in her jeans and her white T-shirt with the creases still in it. She’s too cool to ask and maybe she doesn’t believe me because a lot of things happen to me that don’t happen to other people. “Promise not to tell anyone?” She nods. Jenny is in her room. She’s playing a record by the Monkees. I can see her dancing around in her bra and brushing her hair. She’s got a date tonight. She won’t even say hello to us. Her bra is white with a rose in the middle. “I never told anybody this. I had a twin too but he died.” “Yeah? Why did he die?’” “Because I ate too much and he didn’t get enough.” “What was his name?” “I don’t know. He died before he got a name.” “Who told you.” I shrug. Suddenly I’m scared. I don’t know. “Did you see him when he died?” I nod. “What did he look like?” “He was tiny and shriveled with a huge belly. Nobody listened when he cried so he ate himself up. That’s what happens when somebody starves to death.” Dave looks at me. I can’t see inside her eyes. I say, “Have you ever seen a dead person?” “Yes.” “Where?” “On T.V.” “I mean a real one.” “My Dad says there were lots of dead people in Korea and he and Mom are lucky to be alive in America.” I nod. I think about Mrs. Lee’s skin moving over the bones in her face like thin cotton. Then I see Mr. Lee on the golf course in plaid Bermuda shorts, his thigh, thick and smooth and golden, stretching the material tight as he prepares to swing. Jenny opens the back door. She looks as if all of her has been ironed. Dave wolf whistles. Jenny says, “Tell Mom I’ll be home at ten.” 77 C y c l e 1 ...
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