The Legend of the Ditto Twins (9 page)

"There.
You see." Mom smiled sweetly. "Well, you boys better get moving.
You'll be late for school."

"Mom,"
we groaned. "School's out."

"Oh,
that's right." It was strange to see her so
schitzy
.
"Well, then, go swimming or something." Before we could move, though,
she raised a hand to stop us. "Just a sec. Um... I hope you two realize
one thing. All your father and I want is for you to be happy. Happy isn't
always easy." She waved us away. "Let me know your decision by
suppertime. I promised Clay I'd call before six."

"Clark,
I don't want to go."

"Me
either."

"But
I don't want to stay here anymore."

"Ditto."

I nodded.
We were pedaling our bikes aimlessly down some dirt road. Our T-shirts had long
since been tucked into the hip pockets of our cargo shorts, and both our
hairless chests were shimmering with sweat under the midday sun. But for the
first time in ages we weren't looking at each other. I kept going over Mom's
ultimatum, trying to put my thoughts into words.

"
They
don't really want us to be happy," I began.

"But they think they do. Only
it's got to be their idea of happy."

"Do you think they're
happy?"

Clark shrugged. "Happy enough.
She runs things; he lets her."

I nodded. "Very good. Smart.
Maybe even wise."

"Maybe."

I glanced
over.
"Are you happy?"

"Happy?" With a laugh, my
brother abruptly tossed his head back and forth in spastic double-time, like a
spaniel shaking himself off after a bath. Little droplets of sweat whirled into
the air like a splash of tiny diamonds. "Dog happy. Well, till today,
anyway."

"'Dog happy'? What kind of happy
is dog happy?"

"Totally happy." He panted
extravagantly at the blazing sun and howled like a werewolf. "Is that an
answer?"

I crowed with laughter. "That'll
do."

"Seriously, I've never been
happier in my whole life."

"Me either. I like
puberty."

"I like your hard-on in my
hand."

"I like my tongue in your
mouth."

"Think we'll ever get tired of
kissing each other?"

I snorted and tried to keep my eyes
on the road, but mostly I watched the trickles of sweat shimmying down the
smooth skin of my brother's ribcage. I was beginning to realize what it meant
to be mesmerized.

"Earth to Mark. Where are
you?"

I looked up, almost but not quite
embarrassed. "Where do you think?"

"In my pants." It was not a
question.

I nodded. "Let's go find a
field."

"Okay."

Five minutes later, we selected a
spot down the road and padlocked our bikes to a fence post. I started off into
a row of waist-high corn; Clark didn't.

That surprised me. "What?"

"Relax," he said.
"We're gonna play soon enough."

"When?" I demanded, moving
back to grope him.

"As soon as we've settled what
we're gonna do."

"Oh, that." I let go.
"Okay. Talk."

"Well. I've been thinking. Do
you realize... You've been right here next to me every day of my life? Every
single solitary day."

"Never missed a day." I ran
a fingernail down his upper arm. "Or night. Never missed a night. Not
one."

"Ditto. We've always done
everything together. Everything. That's why I'm not... sure I could handle...
being alone."

"Me either." I touched the
golden fringe on his upper lip. "You think I haven't been thinking,
too?"

"I know. I could almost hear
you." He touched my lip. "I wanted us to shave together the first
time."

"We still can."

I slid an arm around his slimy
shoulder.

"This isn't solving our
problem." He pulled away to sit on the hard ground. "You, too.
Sit!" I dropped down. "No, not so close or we'll get sidetracked.
C'mon. Please, Mark."

Begrudgingly, I sprawled on the warm
ground, opposite him, trying my damnedest to concentrate on the very real
catastrophe that had to be resolved in less than six hours.

"Okay. We've got to negotiate a
deal. You know, a deal the
folks'll
take, but one
that we can live with, too."

He leaned back on his elbows, his
butt and legs flat on the baked soil. I did too, mirroring his position.

"Such as?"

I pressed the soles of my sneakers
against his and spread our legs apart, so that together our long, lean limbs
formed a perfect diamond. Reflexively, he pressed back.

"Now the first question is, how
much do we want a car?"

"A lot," I answered.
"Not for the prom or the drive-in, but so we'll have a way to escape when
things get worse."

Clark nodded. "And they
will."

"Hey,
would you mind putting on your T-shirt?

"Why?"
he asked.

"'Cause
I'm having trouble concentrating. All I can think about is play
ing
with your
nipples."

"Mark,
shut up! Now the second question is... Let's say you and I, we
agree—theoretically—that one of
us'll
go. Then part of
the deal's gotta be that we get to take turns visiting each other every single
weekend all summer long." He paused. "How do we make Mom and Dad buy
that? All that travel costs money."

"But
five nights a week sleeping alone."

"I
can count." He groaned. "That's the price of a car."

"Okay,
then we don't mention weekends. Maybe whoever goes can just show up the first
Friday night. Surprise!"

"Well,
sure. But there's still Grandma's room. I keep waiting for Mom to bring that up
again." He groaned some more. "The only way this is gonna fly is if
we convince the folks their plan is working, that we're not so antisocial, not
so... joined at the hip. Be the sons they want us to be."

"Like,
show an interest in the dairy or..."

“...invite
The Go-To Guy for Sunday dinner or—..."

“...those
girls from Ankeny, the ones..."

“...with
braces. They asked us if we wanted to go to the movies with em once."

"Perfect.
And, oh yeah, we gotta start talking a lot more about tits, at least in front
of the folks."

"Right.
It could work." Clark nodded to himself as much as to me. "Sure, then
probably they'll leave us alone."

"It'll
all be bullshit," I added, as much for me as for him, "but we're both
getting to be pretty good actors."

Clark
nodded. "If we play our roles right, shit, I'll bet we can at least be
together weekends."

"Yeah,
but what about weekdays? Were horny all the time—weekdays, too." I groped
myself. "Like right now."

He
grinned and groped himself, too. "Almost done. The only real ques
tion left is: Who goes, who stays?"

"You
want to go?" I asked.

Clark
shook his head. "Probably you should. You're the one who knows about cars.
I could never fix one up without you; I just read magazines about em."

I
swallowed. "Okay."

"Well,
that's that." His elbows collapsed, and he was now flat on his back.
"You want to see something?"

"What?"

In
answer, he threw his long Olympic legs in the air and scooted out of his
shorts. All I could see at first was his butt lift off the ground, and I
wondered briefly why I'd never paid much attention to it before. It was—there's
no other word—nice.

I kept
looking. The next thing I noticed was that it was framed by two thin, white
straps. I looked again. He was wearing his jockstrap! Then he lowered his legs
slowly to reveal the mesh pouch. It seemed filled to bursting, as if loaded
with yeasty bread rising in a hot oven.

He
kneaded himself lazily. "Guess I'm kinda horny, too..."

My mouth
dropped open. "You shit!" Now it was my turn to throw my own legs in
the air, peel off my shorts, and reveal that I too was wearing my jockstrap. I
glanced down; my pouch was also packed. From the look in his eyes, I knew I
wasn't the only one who liked what he saw. I spoke first.

"I
wanted to surprise you."

"I
wanted to surprise
you!
"

We dove
for each other, and as the noonday sun baked our flesh, we worked each other to
orgasm twice before we heard a tractor chugging near, then saw it only three
rows over. Breathlessly, we used our jocks to clean up as best we could and
made our escape. Clark stuffed mine in his hip pocket and tossed me his.

"Here,"
he said. "I'm
keepin
' yours."

On the
way home, we stopped at Walgreens. While Clark flirted with the Asian girl, I
did the shopping: two cartons of Marlboros, two Bic lighters, two copies of
Motor Trend,
three
more spiral notebooks (plus another ballpoint pen), two cans of Burma Shave,
and a packet of disposable razors. My backpack was bulging, but Mr. Johnson
didn't seem to notice.

Mom was
on the porch waiting when we pulled up.

I barely
stopped to kiss her cheek as I passed her on my way into the house.
"Relax."

The
screen door slammed behind me.

My
brother added, "Mom, why don't you go find Dad? He ought to be here,
too."

"Your
father?" She seemed genuinely surprised.

Clark
kissed her on the forehead. "You know. Your husband. Doesn't he have a
stake in this?"

"Or
is it all your doing?" I asked through the door.

She
wheeled around. "What do you mean by that?"

Clark
opened the screen door and joined me inside, his arm dangling over my shoulder.
The door slammed shut.

"Nothing.
Don't be paranoid. Now if you'll excuse us..."

“...we
have to go shave and shower."

"Shave?
You boys are shaving now? I didn't know."