Almost Identical #1 (13 page)

“Where's the emergency room?” my dad asked the attendant as we came screeching into the parking lot of the Santa Monica–UCLA Medical Center. Charlie and I were in the backseat, and Ryan was sitting up front with Dad.

“You have to park in the structure,” the attendant said.

“You don't understand,” my dad argued. “My mother-in-law was just brought here by ambulance. We have to get to her immediately.”

“Everybody's got problems here,” the attendant said. “That's why it's a hospital. Park in the structure. Two lefts, then a right.”

It felt like forever before we got a parking space. I was so nervous, my hands were shaking and sweating at the same time. We didn't know much—only that GoGo had left Charlie's beach party to go to the market to get more drinks. She was turning onto Pacific Coast Highway, and another car plowed into her. When the paramedics called my dad, they said she was conscious, but they didn't know the extent of her injuries.

“Why did she have to go to the store?” Charlie kept saying over and over on the drive to the hospital. “Why did she have to go?”

But of course GoGo had to go. She always wanted to make sure everyone had a good time. She wouldn't have wanted them to run out of things to drink.

The waiting room was full of people. Some were coughing, some were holding crying babies, and some were just sitting there looking sick or sad. We rushed to the reception desk where a nurse was filling out forms.

“We're here for Phyllis Platt,” my dad said. “She was brought in about a half hour ago.”

“Are you family?” the nurse asked.

“She's our grandmother,” I blurted out. “Do you know if she's okay?”

“She's in surgery, honey. You can all take a seat in the waiting room. The doctor will speak to you when we know more.”

Surgery! Oh no. What were they doing to her?

“Can you tell us anything?” Charlie asked. She sounded as scared as I felt.

“I'm sorry, dear. Only the doctor can tell you about her condition.” The nurse looked at Charlie, then at me. “You're twins, right?”

We nodded.

“Which one's older?” she asked, but her phone rang before we could answer.

We took a seat where the other people were waiting and sat there for what seemed like forever. No one said a word. We were each deep in our own thoughts, too scared to talk. I knew that if Alicia were here, I'd be talking to her. Or any of the other Truth Tellers for that matter. They weren't afraid to talk about their feelings, to admit their fears. But it wasn't the Diamond family way. We were jocks. We kept our cool. We didn't show weakness. And so we were silent.

Finally Dad got up and went to the bathroom, and when he came out, he said, “You kids wait here. I'm going to call your mother. Get me right away if the surgeon comes out.”

The man next to us was watching TV really loud, a show about fishermen who catch crabs. No kidding. They actually make shows about stuff like that. I couldn't take it anymore.

“Let's move,” I whispered. “The TV is driving me nuts.”

We got up and found three seats together. Ryan started to sit in the middle, but Charlie asked if she could sit next to me. She was looking so sad. Crying had made her eye makeup run down her face, and her nose was red from blowing it. Ryan was trying to tough it out, but he looked so pale and serious. He was always the life of the party, but now he looked like he was on the verge of crying. He picked up a magazine from the coffee table, then put it down. Picked up another one and put it down. His knee was bobbing up and down like it had a motor in it.

“She's going to be fine,” he said to us. “She has to be.”

“I feel so awful,” Charlie said. “Oh, Sammie, if only I hadn't had that stupid party. We would have been together, just the five of us. And GoGo wouldn't have gone out for drinks, and then that stupid car wouldn't have . . .”

Her voice broke in the middle of the sentence. I reached out and took her hand.

“It's not your fault, Charlie. It was an accident.”

“I just wish I could turn back the clock,” she said. “I wish it were still this afternoon. I wish Mom were here.”

I put my arms around her and hugged her. I could feel her trembling.

“Shhh,” I whispered, like GoGo would have if she were there with us. “It's going to be okay.”

“Listen, guys,” Ryan said. “We have to be brave. The last thing Dad needs is three babies on his hands.”

I felt my phone vibrate and reached into my purse to get it. It was Alicia.

“Do you know anything yet?” she asked.

“We're still in the waiting room. She's in surgery.”

“Do you want me to come there and sit with you? My dad said he'd take me.”

“It's okay. My brother and sister are here.”

“Everyone from Truth Tellers says to send you big hugs. Call me as soon as you hear anything.”

“I will, Alicia. Thanks for being there.”

“She's a good friend,” Charlie said as I put my phone back in my purse. “Solid. It's nice to have someone to lean on. Someone you can trust.”

“Has Lauren called you?” I asked her.

“Not yet. I'm sure she will, though.”

“She called me,” Ryan said. “On the way in.” He must have noticed Charlie's shocked reaction because he quickly added, “She says to send you her love and all that other girl stuff.”

That was so like Lauren. She had time to call Ryan, but no time to call the girl who was supposed to be her best friend. She was what Mom calls a “boy's girl,” someone who would cancel a date with a girlfriend if a boy called and asked her out. I wondered why Charlie didn't see that. I guess she just wanted to be friends with Lauren so badly, she was willing not to see the truth.

The double doors at the end of the waiting room flew open, and a doctor wearing green scrubs and a flowered surgical cap came out.

“Is the Platt family here?” she called out.

“We're here,” Ryan answered, springing to his feet so fast, he looked like a jack-in-the-box. “Actually, we're the Diamond family, but we're the Platt family, too.”

Charlie bolted outside to get Dad while Ryan calmed himself down enough to explain to the doctor that our last name was Diamond, but GoGo was our mom's mom and her last name was Platt. By the time he finished, Dad and Charlie had arrived.

“How is she?” Dad asked the doctor.

I took a deep breath and braced myself for the news. Charlie reached out and took my hand.

“I'm Dr. Memsic,” the surgeon began, pulling off her cap. I was surprised to see that she had long, blond hair and looked kind of like a surfer. I don't know what I thought surgeons looked like, but I thought they looked glamorous only on TV. “Ms. Platt suffered a broken tibia and fibula in the accident. Those are the bones in your shin,” she explained, looking at Charlie and me.

I knew that. When you're a competitive athlete, you get very familiar with all the different bones you can break and muscles you can injure and tendons you can pull. Compared to other kids our age, the Diamond kids have a pretty complete medical vocabulary, at least as far as sports injuries go.

“We've repaired the break using four screws and a rod,” Dr. Memsic went on. “As far as we can assess, aside from some bruising and cuts, that is the extent of her injuries. She'll need a few days in the hospital and six to eight weeks of recovery. Then physical therapy. But with good care, she'll be okay.”

She'll be okay!!!!
Oh, those were the best three words in the English language. Well, actually the best three and a half, if you count the contraction as a half.

Charlie and I fell into each other's arms, sobbing. I was so relieved that I wanted to cry and holler at the same time.

There should be a word for that. Croller
.
Yeah, that's it. I wanted to croller.

Actually, I did croller. Right in Charlie's ear. But that was okay, because she was crollering in mine!

“Now, which one of you is Sammie and which one is Charlie?” Dr. Memsic asked, looking at Ryan and Dad.

“I'm Sammie,” I said. “Short for Samantha.”

“And I'm Charlie. Short for Charlotte.”

Dr. Memsic smiled. “Twins?” she asked. We nodded and waited for her to ask which one was older, but she didn't. Instead she said, “How's it feel to be monozygotic?”

“Huh?” Charlie and I said in unison.

“Monozygotic. That's the scientific term for
identical
. It means ‘formed from one egg.'”

That was news to me. Imagine, all these years being an identical twin and the word
monozygotic
had never come up.

“Your grandmother specifically asked for you two,” Dr. Memsic said. “She's in the recovery room. She said it was important, so I'm going to let you visit for two minutes. Keep it brief and stress-free.”

Dad and Ryan went outside to call Mom and tell her the good news, while Charlie and I followed Dr. Memsic through the double doors and down a gleaming, white hallway to the recovery room. At first, I gasped when I saw GoGo. She was lying in a big hospital bed with a blue oxygen tube in her nose. She was hooked up to a monitor that showed every beat of her heart, and her leg was all splinted up. Her eyes were closed, and for a minute I thought she might be dead.

“Oh, GoGo,” Charlie cried. “Poor GoGo.”

“Can she hear us?” I asked Dr. Memsic.

“She's still very sleepy, but she'll respond if you touch her.”

Charlie and I went to GoGo's bedside and picked up her hand gently. My hand was under hers and Charlie's was over hers. It was like we were having a soft, sweet, three-way handshake.

“We're here, GoGo,” I whispered.

“And we love you so much,” Charlie added.

GoGo opened her eyes. She looked around the room as if she weren't quite sure where she was. Then her eyes focused on us and she smiled—that perfect, wonderful GoGo smile.

“My girls,” she said, trying to sit up. “My darling girls.”

Dr. Memsic came up to the bedside. “I need you to rest now, Ms. Platt. Don't try to move. Your granddaughters can come back tomorrow.”

“I have something to say,” GoGo said, “and it can't wait.” With that, she turned her head and focused her blue eyes on Charlie and me. “You girls were fighting,” she said. “That's not good.”

“We're not fighting anymore,” Charlie said. “We're all better now. Aren't we, Sammie?”

Were we? I didn't know, but this was not the time to discuss it.

“All better,” I said.

“You're family to each other,” GoGo whispered to us, her voice sounding weak and raspy. “Family forgives. Family loves.”

“We know,” Charlie reassured her. “We'll fix it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” I said.

She turned to look at Charlie. “You too?”

“We're fine now. Everything is back to normal. We're playing our first divisional on Sunday, and we're going to win it for you, GoGo. Together. Isn't that right, Sammie?”

GoGo looked at me and waited for my answer. Sunday, the day of the performance. Sunday, the day of the tournament.

Which would it be?

There was no doubt in my mind now.

“We're going to win it for you, GoGo,” I said.

She smiled, and as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, she squeezed both our hands and whispered, “Family is love.”

When we got home later that night, I took my phone into the bathroom where Charlie couldn't hear me and dialed Alicia's number.

“My grandma's okay,” I said to her. “She broke her leg, but she'll recover.”

“Thank God, Sammie. My whole family lit candles for her.”

“Tell everyone, will you? And tell them I'm not going on Sunday.”

“Because you're going to stay with your grandma?”

“No, because I'm going to play in the tournament with my sister.”

There was a long silence, and then Alicia said, “Sammie, are you sure that's what you want to do?”

“My family is counting on me,” I told her. And before I could start to cry, I said a quick good-bye and hung up.

“Your mom just texted that her flight gets in at seven thirty this evening,” my dad said as we piled our rackets and tennis bags into the trunk of the car. “Too bad she'll miss your match.”

It was Sunday afternoon, and we were heading for the tournament. A low fog hung over Santa Monica, and even though it wasn't really cold, Dad made us wear warm-up suits so our muscles would stay loose.

“Dad, she's not coming back to watch us play tennis,” Charlie pointed out. She tossed the last of her things in the trunk and slammed it shut. “She's coming to see GoGo.”

“A person can do two things at the same time,” he said. He opened the back door of the car for us to get in. “You girls going to have enough room back there?”

“Sure,” Lauren said. “We'll squeeze.”

That's right. I said Lauren.

She had invited herself along to watch our match, supposedly to support us, but it just so happened that Ryan was coming, too. Aren't we all so surprised?

“Charlie, you sit in the middle because you're the smallest,” Lauren ordered. I don't know who put her in charge of the seating arrangements.

Oh, right. She put herself in charge, like she did for most things.

“I'll scrunch in back of you, Mr. Diamond,” she went on. “Sammie, do you think you can fit in back of Ryan on the passenger side?”

“I'm not a whale, Lauren. You don't have to strap me on top of the car or anything.”

“I didn't mean to insult you. I was just saying—”

“Sammie doesn't like to talk about her size,” I heard Ryan whisper as he took Lauren's hand and guided her into the backseat. “She's sensitive about it.”

In the interest of keeping the peace before the tournament, I decided to let it go, although what I wanted to say was that my body's shape and size was not a topic open for public discussion. Or for private discussion, either. But recognizing that all our nerves were a little shot from the stress of the accident, I held my tongue. We had spent most of the day before at the hospital visiting GoGo. Each of us could only go in for a few minutes at a time. On each of Ryan's trips in, he'd tell her a joke from his vast collection of marginally funny jokes. On each of Charlie's trips in, she'd sing one of GoGo's favorite Beatles songs that she had taught us from the time we were born. I'm not what you'd call a great singer, so after a couple attempts at “Hey Jude,” GoGo asked if I would read to her instead.

I had brought my backpack to the hospital to do homework, so all I had to read were my schoolbooks. I didn't think she'd want to hear about the causes of the American Revolution or about cell reproduction. But then I found that sheet with the Sonya Sones poem “Fantabulous,” and I read it to GoGo.

“Oh, Sammie,” she said. “How lovely. Read it again.”

I did. I read it again and again and again, each time I went in to see her. It seemed to make her so happy. By the end of the day I knew it by heart, and I felt like, even though I'd never met her, Sonya Sones was my new best friend.

By late afternoon, GoGo was tired and wanted us to go home. Our mom was coming in, and GoGo needed to rest up for her visit. Promising that we'd call her the next day right after our match, Charlie and I kissed her good-bye and the whole family left. We were totally beat when we got home, even Ryan. (It's hard work to spend the day telling unfunny jokes.) All I wanted to do was flop down on the beach and take a long nap. But such things aren't possible when you're Rick Diamond's kid and it's the day before a divisional tournament.

“Charlie and Sammie: Get yourselves a protein snack, and I'll see you on the court in fifteen,” he had said not ten minutes after we had arrived back at the club.

“Dad!” Charlie and I protested. “We're totally fried.”

“When the going gets tough, the tough get going,” he responded as we knew he would.

But we didn't get mad at him. It was impossible to after seeing the way he had taken care of GoGo all day. He was so sweet to her, helping her out of bed, adjusting the TV in her hospital room, holding the cup while she sipped water out of a straw.

Charlie and I couldn't stop talking about it. It reminded us both of how he was when we were really little. He always took such good care of us, even when he was working all hours. He'd make us oatmeal in the morning and homemade orange juice popsicles after dinner and read to us at bedtime every night. Of course he read sports statistics, but still, he'd snuggle with us and read until we fell asleep. To this day, I can name the top five basketball free throw shooters of 2004 and tell anyone who wants to know that it's 395 feet from home plate to the center field fence in Dodger Stadium. It was only after Charlie and I started to play tennis—no, it was only after we started to show real promise as tennis players—that he turned into tough-guy dad.

Once we were all crammed into the car (I confess, it was a tight squeeze for me in the backseat), we drove down Pacific Coast Highway to the Sand and Surf Tennis Club, the home of our most recent triumph. We registered at the desk and got our assignment. Court six at two o'clock.

“Welcome to the circuit, girls,” the official at the desk said. “It's quite an honor to have achieved your Under-Fourteen ranking.”

“My girls are going to make their presence felt in this division,” my dad said. “You'll be seeing them on the winner's board.”

“We'll all be watching for that,” the official said, and turned to the next family in line.

Thanks, Dad, once again for making this a no-pressure situation.

I checked the time. It was almost one o'clock. The performance at the Civic Auditorium started at two. I wondered if everyone was out-of-their-minds nervous.

Maybe I still had time to catch Alicia. I had talked to her the night before and wished her good luck, but I was feeling the need to do it again. I kept wishing I were with the Truth Tellers and not stuck out here sweating at the Sand and Surf Tennis Club.

“Will you excuse me for a sec, Dad?” I asked after we had gotten our official badges and dropped our gear in the locker room. “I have to make a call.”

“Don't be long,” he said. “You shouldn't be chatting with your pals now. You've got to get your game face on, get in the zone.”

“It'll only take a second.”

I went out into the parking lot and speed-dialed Alicia. It rang four times, and just before it went to voice mail, she picked up. She sounded out of breath.

“Alicia?”

“Sammie! I'm so glad it's you. We're just leaving to get in the car. The whole family's going. Except Ramon. He was a total brat this morning, so we're leaving him with the neighbors. How's GoGo?”

“She stood up this morning, all on her own. I mean, with a walker, but still, she's making progress.”

“That's so great. Listen, Sammie, I've got to go. I wish you could be there with us. We all do.”

“Not as much as I do. But I'm doing the right thing. We're dedicating our match to GoGo.”

“Then you're bound to win. I'm so nervous. I mean, the city council and all! My dad is really proud. He pinned a white carnation on the lapel of his jacket. The only other time I've seen him do that is when we go to church on Christmas. I hope I don't disappoint him.”

“You'll be great,” I reassured Alicia. “Speak from the heart. That's all you have to do.”

When I turned around, my dad was walking quickly over to me.

“Come on, Sammie. There's a court available for you to warm up on.”

I followed my dad to one of the practice courts where Charlie was doing stretches against the fence and Ryan and Lauren were sitting on the bench. When we took the court and started to hit, Dad stayed on the sidelines, calling out instructions. “Move your feet, Sammie. And follow through. Don't chop at the ball. Get to the net, Charlie. Be aggressive. Don't hang back.”

We practiced for about fifteen minutes. When our muscles were warm and loose, we got some water and toweled off. Then my dad went to reserve seats in the stands, Charlie went to the ladies' room, and Ryan, who had been watching us carefully from the sidelines with Lauren, nodded his head approvingly.

“You're looking sharp, Sam-I-Am,” he said. “And it's a good thing. I checked out Kozlov and Shin on the next court. Shin is fast, quick hands. Kozlov, man, she's loaded with muscle. And she's got a monster serve.”

“Sammie can handle her,” Lauren piped up as if she knew anything about tennis. “She can match Kozlov pound for pound.”

Did she say pound for pound? Yes, she did.

Okay. That did it. I had controlled my mouth long enough. It was no longer willing to take orders from me.

“Listen here, Lauren,” I heard my mouth saying. “You are not entitled to comment on my weight. You are not entitled to comment on any part of my body. In fact, you are not entitled to comment at all. Am I making myself clear?”

My mouth wanted to go on, but my head told it to stop. My mouth didn't listen, though.

“You should stick to the areas you know about,” I went on, “like flirting and eye shadow.”

Thanks, mouth. I think you're done now. Take a rest.

“Gosh, Sammie. You don't have to get so nasty about it.” Lauren pouted. “I wasn't saying you were fat. I mean, you don't look
all that
bad.”

“And what's that supposed to mean, Lauren?”

“It means exactly what it means. Sure, you're a little on the heavy side. I'm not telling you anything new. But I wouldn't call you totally fat.”

I looked at Ryan, expecting him to defend me. And he didn't let me down.

“Lauren, I think you should mind your own business and shut up now. No offense.”

“What is with you people today?” Lauren said. “Everyone's so touchy.”

I grabbed my stuff and left the court. I wondered what Charlie would have done if she'd heard that. Would she have taken my side or Lauren's?

There was no time to think about that. The umpire was calling our names, and the crowd was gathering in the stands on court six. I was amazed at how many more people came out to see the Under-14 matches than the Under-12 matches. Dad said they were hoping to get a glimpse of someone who might become a future Wimbledon champ.

Ryan's assessment of Kozlov and Shin was right on the money. Marjorie Shin had lightning speed and great reflexes. You could tell she was a natural athlete. Quick on her feet, totally focused, and eyes that never left the ball. Her partner, Anna Kozlov, was like a hitting machine. She just hung out at the baseline and slammed back anything you hit at her. They were probably a year older than Charlie and me and, man, were they good. We had our work cut out for us.

“What's the game plan?” I asked Charlie after we had lost the racket spin and were heading to our positions.

“I could always fake an injury and forfeit,” she said. When I raised my eyebrows at that remark, she laughed. “Just kidding, Sammie. There's nothing we can do except play our game. But let's face it: Those two are going to clean our clocks.”

We lost our first four games. And not just regular lost, but lost as in we never scored a point. The balls just came whizzing by, and by the time I got my racket up, they were long gone. It was clear to me that although we had earned our ranking, we were way at the bottom of our division.

A few times I looked up into the stands. Our dad was giving us his Super Focus Look, staring at us without moving, beaming us silent instructions all the way across the court. I don't know if it was my imagination, but I actually thought Lauren looked pleased. She was holding Ryan's hand and offering him consoling pats on the back. Ryan saw me looking at him, and when our eyes met, I just shrugged as if to say,
It's hopeless, dude
. But then he did a typical Ryan thing. He jumped to his feet and started yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Oh no you don't. You're not giving up. You're going to win this thing.”

The people around him tried to shush him. But it took more than that to shut Ryan Diamond up. He yelled out again.

“You can win this, guys. Win it for GoGo.”

Charlie looked up just as Ryan threw both his arms in the air and gave us the double thumbs-up—GoGo's signature move.

They say there is magic in words, and you know what? I believe it. When Charlie and I heard Ryan shouting GoGo's name, something clicked in each of us.

“We suck,” she said to me.

“Yes, we do,” I answered.

“I'm sick of it,” she said.

“Me too,” I answered.

“Let's do this, Sammie,” she said.

“I'm with you, Charlie,” I answered.

And then we started to play tennis. Real tennis. I played with all my heart, believing that we could win this match. Concentrating on each shot. Remembering GoGo and how she taught us to stick together. Recalling all that I had sacrificed to be here today. Thinking of my friends at Truth Tellers and how they were giving their all at this very moment, too.

And I said to myself,
I'm going to do this. For GoGo. For Alicia. For the Truth Tellers. For me.

Bam!
I slammed a shot right down Kozlov's line. It zoomed by her.

Yeah! There's one for you, GoGo.

Pow!
I served a speedball to Shin's backhand. She couldn't touch it.

That's for you, Alicia. And all the girls who couldn't afford their cheerleading outfits.

Whoosh!
I rushed the net and got there in time to hit a volley right at Shin's feet.

That's for Will Lee and short sixth-grade boys everywhere.

Plop!
I hit an unbelievable drop shot that just barely dribbled over the net. Kozlov rushed for it, but missed and crashed into the net.