“What did she tell you?” I insisted.
“Nothing, she didn’t tell me anything.”
“Then what’s the secret, Michel?”
“I meant to say, the secret . . . wasn’t anything she said, per se.”
“Then what was it?”
“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you.”
“Michel, I don’t think Mum knew that she would be gone so soon, and so unexpectedly. I’m sure she would have wanted us to share everything with each other.”
“Possibly. But I’d have to find some way of verifying that with her.”
“Right, except you can’t. So, you’re just going to have to rely on your judgment, and your judgment only.”
After downing the rest of his tea in one gulp, Michel put his cup back in the saucer with a trembling hand, shaking his head, his eyes lost and frantic—all signs of an impending attack. I stroked his neck and spoke soothingly and deliberately, hoping to calm my twin brother down.
“You don’t have to say anything now. I’m sure Mum would have wanted you to think things through. After all, that’s why she entrusted her secret to you. Do you want another scone, love?”
“I don’t think that would be reasonable. But perhaps. To mark the occasion of all three of us being together.”
“Right when I had decided not to get up again,” Maggie muttered before making a round-trip to the counter. She set one last scone down in front of Michel and returned to her seat.
“Let’s change the subject, huh?” said Maggie, her voice gentle. “How about you tell us about your life at work?”
“It’s quite similar to my life at home.”
“Sure, sure. But not everything, right?”
“How about your manager?” I asked innocently. “You two seem . . . close.”
Michel looked up in doubt. “Just to verify . . . ‘close’ is a manner of speaking, I suppose.”
“Indeed, or call it an observation.”
“Yes, we are quite often ‘close,’ in terms of proximity, which is to be expected since speaking in anything above a whisper is strictly prohibited at the library.”
“So I noticed.”
“In that case, you should understand why we are often close.”
“She seems to really enjoy your company.” I could feel Maggie glaring at me for raising the subject. “Don’t look at me like that, Maggie. I’m allowed to talk to my brother without having you judge my every word.”
“Are you two going to argue?” Michel asked.
“No, not today,” Maggie assured him.
“I’ll tell you one thing that fascinates me about you two,” Michel began, while dabbing the corners of his mouth carefully with a napkin. “Most of the time, what you say makes no sense. Yet, you seem to understand each other better than most of the people I’ve observed, at least when you’re not fighting. If that’s what it means to be ‘close,’ then yes, I suppose we are. I hope that answers your question, Elby. Your real question.”
“I’d say it does, love. And if you happen to need any advice, you know . . . girl stuff? I’m right here for you, anytime.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you, Elby. Even though you’re not ‘right here’ very often, you can always come back, unlike Mum. Which is very reassuring.”
“This time, I’ll be right here for a while. At least, I think.”
“Until your magazine sends you to study giraffes in a faraway land? How is it that you care more about people you don’t even know than about your own family?”
If anyone else on earth aside from my brother had asked that question, I might have been able to give an honest answer. At the beginning, I set off to see the world, scouring the globe in search of hope, something I was sorely lacking at the age of twenty. I wanted to break away from a life that was mapped out in advance. I was desperate to avoid being boxed in to the type of life my mother had led, the same sort of path that Maggie seemed to have no qualms about pursuing. I had to leave my family to learn to love them again. Because in spite of all the love around me, I found suburban life to be suffocating and unbearable.
“I was just fascinated by all the diversity in the world,” I replied. “I left to try to learn more about all the things that make people different from each other. Does that make sense?”
“No. Not very logical, I must say. After all, I myself am different from the others. And yet, that wasn’t enough for you.”
“You’re not different, Michel. We’re twins, and you’re the person I feel closest to in the whole wide world.”
“You know . . . if I’m intruding, just let me know,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes.
Michel studied each of us in turn. He took a deep breath and laid his hands on the table, ready to get something off his chest, a secret that had been weighing heavily on him.
“I do feel . . . close to Vera,” he whispered, short of breath.
11
THE INDEPENDENT
June to September 1980, Baltimore