The Twin
By Dan Barbier
The Twin copyright 2011 Dan Barbier
The Defective excerpt Copyright 2011 Dan Barbier
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Table of content
DEDICATION
To Aline who still believes,
Natasha who was happy that I got off my butt and finally decided to give it a try,
And to Pierre-Michel and James-Alex who were the spark that inspired the story.
The Twin
My name is Peter-James McDonald. I am 7 months old. I was a twin. My brother’s name was Michael, it probably still is. Why am I speaking in past tense ?
Because I am dead.
My father killed me, three weeks ago. In those three weeks I learned a lot about my family and myself. My guide in heaven is my grandfather Joe, he helps me understand a lot of things. Let me tell you what happened…
We were born, the first children of Ray and Eileen McDonald, on a stormy saterday night of april. It was raining and my mom was about to go to bed when she started complaining of pains in her tummy, what my grandpa calls contractions. She knew that I wasn’t alone in her tummy because the doctor already told her she was expecting twins, and he advised her to run to the hospital at the first sign of contra… Cantroct… The pains in her tummy.
The doctor made a whole in my mother’s tummy and brought me and my brother out into another world. We were doing okay inside the warmth of my mother but I guess we had to get out, since it was getting smaller in there with my brother taking all the space available.
That’s when I first saw my father. He was a small balding man who was weeping freely.
He was smiling and crying at the same time. The doctor put me in his hands and he was shaking like he was afraid to drop me or hurt me.
Maybe I should have been the one to be afraid.
After five days, we were taken home. Home was a small house with two small bedrooms,
A small kitchen, a very small living room and a minuscule bathroom. Grandpa calls it a modest house, my dad called it a roof over our head but I saw it as a huge playground.
We were happy at first, my mother played with our little feet and our little hands and she ade sounds with her mouth and we laughed like crazy. I also cried a lot.
I was smaller than michael and also more fragile. I required more care and more attention than him. I was sick more often and couldn’t seem to sleep the whole night through.
My father worked as a school janitor from 6 am to 4 pm, so at night when I ached or just wouldn’t sleep my mother would come and see me. She would sing to me and do the shhhhh sound that was so relaxing and she would tell me that daddy needed his sleep ‘cause he was working in the morning and he would be grumpy all day if he didn’t get his precious sleep. I knew she was right because I was like that the morning after too.
A few months passed and I noticed that I had a brother. If he was playing with something, I found that it was the most interresting in the world and took it away from him. He would start crying, it wouldn’t help matters when I hit him with it too. Sometimes he would get more attention than me and I would start crying. Other times he would try to crawl across from me and we would bump heads then we would be both crying.
Let’s put it this way, there was a lot of crying in that little house.
My father came home one day and slammed the door hard, I started to cry and my mother who was preparing supper, dropped everything to pick me up in her arms.
“Can you make more noise Ray ?” My mom asked
“Why ? Don’t you have enough with the little brat bawling all day ?” My father replied
“What’s the matter now ? you’re grumpier than ever” She told him
“This is it, they decided that they didn’t need two janitors at the school. They think that everything will be as clean with only one guy doing the job. Those fuckers, now I’m back waiting for calls to replace when guys take sick leaves or vacations.” He said.
“Maybe they’ll be an opening in another school ?” She tried to calm him down.
“No they won’t, I’m the last guy in. I don’t have seniority. I told you all this already.” He said.
“You’ll get something, everything will be fine you’ll see” She tried to kiss him but he sidestepped her and said.
“With these two mouths to feed, I’d better”
She put me down but I wasn’t ready to be left on the floor and besides, I was getting hungry, so guess what… I cried.
“Shit I can’t think with all the chaos in this house” The he leaned to me and yelled.
“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP”
What good do you think that did. I cried so hard that my throat went raw.
After that came the teeth, the measles, a few fevers, ear infections, throat infections, all mostly mine, and I still couldn’t sleep the whole night, I woke up three to four times a night. Michael had a few sniffles here and there but mostly he was a good kid.
The hardest disease was the one affecting my dad. Grandpa calls this sickness, the depression caused by the recession. Daddy still hadn’t found a job and he searched less and less for employement. We were forced to go on welfare, whatever that means it sounded great to me. I mean your dad and your mom are both home to take care of you.
Not so great if your dad is getting tired of taking care of you.
One night he came into our room and I couldn’t sleep. I had a big headache and I tossed and turned and could not find any position that help. I cried and shouted my cries, he picked me up and shook me, shouted in my ears and smacked me on the back of the head. I was so shocked by his reaction that I started having difficulty breathing. No air was getting in. I wanted to breath, but it wasn’t working.
“Peter-James McDonald you stop that. STOP IT RIGHT NOW” he shouted.
The air came back in, and I cried but this time it was tears of relief. I relly thought it was the end. I was going to die, to cease to exist, even if I did not know what it meant exactly, I knew it was bad.
My father cried too. He kept me in his arms androcked me gently and said he never wanted to hurt me or my brother but some times it was damn hard with the money situation and having two kids. He wanted us to be happy and stop crying all the time and he wished we would grow up faster. He put me back in my crib and I strated to cry anew. He picked me up again and looked at me at arms length and said.
“I wish you could understand kiddo” and he smiled.
The next morning, my mother found us sleeping in the living room on the sofa.
That was the last happy time with my father.
“You don’t look for jobs anymore. You don’t speak to me anymore. You don’t take care of the twins unless it’s to shout at them or smack them. You’re just getting grumpier.”
My mother was tired and getting sick of the way my father was behaving around the house so one day she blew up at him.
“Do you mean that you are better than me at finding jobs ? Do you think you can do better ? What are we gonna do with the kids ? We can’t put them in daycare, you’ll end up giving half your salary to them.” He replied to her.
“If that’s what it takes to stop your whining, I’ll do it”
She took me from my high chair and carried me outside to sit on the balcony. Tears leaked abundantly from her eyes to the top of my head. I looked up and smiled, it was always a good way to cheer her up. She looked down and sadly smiled .
She went to look for a job without telling my father, three weeks ago. She told him she needed time away to cool off from the babies and the mounting problems. He was stuck with the both of us and us with him. He played a little with Michael and looked after me for a while, it’s not like it was the first time he was babysitting us alone, but it was one to remember.
I was relly getting a hang of running on all fours. I needed a little time to get going but then, whooosh. There was still some problem with coordination but all considering I was making a lot of progress. Michael was stronger therefore, faster. I was going fast with my head down, my father was on the phone with somebody for a job in a shopping mall. I looked up and saw coming full speed ahead, we were on a collision course. I corrected my trajectory to avoid him but not the chair leg under the table. It was… Painful, very painful, did I mention that I was going very fast ? I wept, I howled, I bawled my eyes out.
My father hung up the phone in frustration, picked me up, inspected me, couldn’t find anything wrong apart from the red welt on my forehead.
“Stop crying, you’re not dying you know” He said testily.
He sent me back on my whining way and I bumped into Michael wich started him up too.
Stereo crying, You don’t know what the word stereo means until you’ve heard twins crying.
He picked Michael up and dropped him in his crib and did the same to me. Michael stopped cryingnot long after that, but I was still in pain, and I didn’t see anyone taking care of me. I wanted my mommy. He came rushing in like he wanted to devour me. He picked me up and pulled me relly close to his face and started yelling.
“I CAN’T STAND IT NO MORE. YOU STOP, STOP, STOP, STOOOOOP…”
It started again, I couldn’t breath.
“No, Stop, DON’T, DON’T DO THIS, PETER-JAMES I SAID STOP, PETER-JAMES”
He dropped me on the mattress and pounded on me, on my buttom, on my legs and then on my face. I wanted to ask him to stop, I wanted to tell him he was hurting me, that it wasn’t my fault. He kept striking me till I couldn’t feel the pain any more. I saw him hitting my body and shaking me and after that, him sobbing when he saw that I wasn’t moving anymore.
The last thing I remember is Michael crying alone in his crib.
My father was taken to jail. My grandfather told me that it was meant to happen.
Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Had I survived I would have been an unhappy person, and that it was better this way.
I Loved my father. Like he loved me ?
I remember all this today, because today is a very special day. Today I will be a guide too, A guide to someone I loved with all my heart. My mother could not take it anymore,
My death, the imprisonment of her husband and the single motherhood life.
Today she is joining me.
Together we will watch over Michael.
He was a twin.
Now, he is an orphan.
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AFTERWORD
I wrote this story in the winter of 1997 for a short story contest on the internet.
It won the best short story for the month of May on the internovel website.
I’d like to thank Patti Petersen who managed that website and became sick before the story went to an anthology of all the winners of the website. She was the first to acknowledge it for what it was.
Also, I’d like to thank people who read it and offered glowing reviews, Monic Provost, Johanne Côté and my wife Aline who let’s be frank, would have approved of the grocery list.
I have twins, I was a school janitor and we lived in a small house. That’s the only similarity with the story, I did not kill a child, did not loose my job and I don’t curse… much.
Thanks for reading and, for a special treat, Here’s a preview of my upcoming mystery novel called The Defective. It’s very different from the short story, but still ressembles who I am.
The Defective
A Bob Labrozzi mystery
By
Dan Barbier
PROLOGUE
Do you like detective novels ? I used to. My name is Bob Labrozzi, people call me "Lab", or "Bob" sometimes, most of the times they don't call me. I used to be a private detective, but i wasn't very good at it, now I'm a Pet shop owner and I'm still not very good. The money is bad, and what little of it I can get, my animals eat. The fact is, I'd rather be starving with these kind of animals. You're probably asking yourself, "Is he gonna start with his story, or ramble on about the facts of life for 300 pages". Well here's how I respond.
CHAPTER 1
It was in the beginning of July, I was on a wooden box taking pictures for an infidelity case. That's what I was getting in those days and they didn't come that often. This lady thought that her husband was fooling around with a redhead hussy, she was right, he was not only fooling, but was seriously fucking her. As I was taking the pictures and making a mental note to pick up my Video camera from the shop, I noticed that this woman, hussy, was sounding familiar but I couldn't put a name on her. I was snapping my second roll of film, when she looked out the window and saw me.
"Robert?"
Only my redhead hussy wife calls me Robert.
Every detective has a bar he can go to, a place to drink or to set meetings, or see friends. I didn't drink, set meetings or have friends, therefore no use for a bar. I had to find one anyway, I wanted to drown my soul, and my wife, in alcohol. I found one,
DRINK AT JOE'S, it looked like a good place to take a plunge and not come back for air.
After my third peach schnapps, I passed out.
I woke up in an alley behind JOE'S, somebody was picking my pocket, I lifted my head to scare the punk and he kicked it. A few hours passed by, I think. I was bleeding from my forehead, but I didn't know if that or the heavy drinking was the reason for the splitting headache. I still don't remember how I got to my office. I went to the bathroom and took a facecloth to the sink, I wetted the cloth with cold water and brought it to my bleeding forehead. Somebody knocked on the door. Who could it be? It was only 9 am. My secretary wasn't even in yet. I looked in the mirror. It's probably my head starting
to pound.
" Is anybody in there, Mr. Labrozzi, yoo-hoo. "
Yoo-hoo, did I hear yoo-hoo, I must be hearing voices. I went to my desk to look for the ambulance number. She open the door and came into the office,
" Are you Robert Labrozzi ? "
She was tall, 5'8'' or 5' 9'', and lean, 127 pounds, she had breast that defied gravity and she didn't seem to be wearing the required brassiere, a 36 B, but I was just guessing, she could be a transvestite for all I knew.
" So did you have a good look ? ", she asked
I guess she saw my eyes linger over her bosoms.
"Yes I did." I responded, why be dishonest.”
" You're wasting your time Mr. Labrozzi, I don't like men. " she said,
" then call me Bob, Miss...? " I asked,
" Deverell, Vicky Deverell. "
" What can I do for you, Miss Deverell ?
CHAPTER 2
She went into her purse and got out three letters, they weren't from admirers. They were written with cut-ups from newspapers, the kind you see in cop movies. The first one was ambiguous.
The second one was more direct.
The third one was right to the point.
I wasn't sure what to make of the third one. Did they run out of newspapers ? or just run out of patience, because it's really a tough job to put the glue on the letters and stick them on the paper without getting your fingers all messed up.
" what is it they want you to stop miss Deverell ? " I asked.
" You're the detective. Find it " She said.
" Listen lady, My head is doing knock knock jokes and I don't like the punchlines, so, don't fuck around with me, I'm armed "
I got my .38 out of my shoulder holster and showed it to her to prove I meant business. I usually don't try to impress the clientele with the firepower, but this broad really pissed me off with that, I'm a dyke so don't bother attitude.
" Put that back before you hurt yourself ".
She wasn't impressed.
" I've been doing a lot of things that could anger a lot of people, how could I put the finger on just the one that made Mr. Subtle blow up."
She was probably right, I'd only met her a few minutes and already I was waving a gun around.
" My fee is a two hundred dollars a day plus expenses. Can you handle that ? " I said.
"Yes, at least for a couple of months, after that you'll have to find out without a payroll
She was cocky too.
" It'll be over before the end of the month. " I said confidently.
After all it was only the 7th of July, I'd have plenty of time.
CHAPTER 3
She gave me her address and the address of where she worked, BURNS, CROSS & DEVERELL, a law firm, corporate law. I decided to go to my apartment get a change of clothing, move the bare necessities to the office and then get cracking on my best paying job yet.
When I got to my apartment, I remembered the events of the day before, and surprised myself that I was getting angry, even mad, since we didn't spend that much time together and that the spark had gone out a long time ago in our marriage. It was physical attraction that got us together, and it was the same thing that pulled us in other people's arms. I was screwing around a lot but never suspected that I wasn't alone, it hurt. When I walked in she
was cooking diner.
" Hello Robert "
she sounded neutral, neither happy, nor sad. She didn't look at me, as if I could make her cry if she did.
" Christ, you look like hell, where have you been all night "
I forgot she could see without looking.
" At the office, thinking things out "
She let out a laugh that sounded like sandpaper on wood. It made me go berserk.
" I forgive you, please don't leave me, please "
I started to sobbed before the second please. She looked in the bedroom
" Your clothes are in a trash bag and everything else I put in the honeymoon luggage. "
" You were prepared even before I came in"
No longer sobbing, just surprised.
" I thought you would have been mad with anger at catching me with another man but you were gonna take me back. I planned the whole thing, the affair, the woman going to you to tail him, even rented an apartment on the first floor so you wouldn't have too much trouble taking pictures, I wanted YOU to throw ME out, you stupid asshole "
Then she threw a plate at me.
" All right, all right, I get it. You were trying to make me jealous,
right ? "
" NOOOOOO ! You don't get anything, I want out of this marriage, I want you out, I want your things out and I want your stupid dog out. "
Why was she mad at the dog, all he did was sleep.
" I don't have any money so I can't afford a lawyer to make you leave. So just do it, leave me alone and let me find some happiness on my own."
I was touched, like I said there was no longer any kind of love between us, so it was easy to feel detached from the whole thing and leave her be, like she so eloquently asked. As I was picking my stuff up, when she spoke again.
" I'll need only a small alimony "
" WHAT !, WHAT !, ARE YOU CRAZY, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING BITCH MIND " I screamed, I no longer felt detached
" YOU'RE NOT GETTING A PENNY YOU SLUT, ASK YOUR GIGOLO TO EARN YOUR LIVING "
I kicked the door open and let myself out
“Fucking sluthing bitch." I muttered.
I went back to my office and dropped everything on the floor.
" Where have you been Mr. Labroooozi ? "
My secretary was in. I looked at my watch 11:14 am, a new world record. She never came before 11:30 and made it to the office after 12:00 noon. She was a small dim-witted blonde who had a voice like, well, imagine Melanie Griffith...but with a squeaky voice. I can hear the women going, of course another blonde whose dumb and beautiful and talks funny. What can I say, I'm a dumb chauvinist pig who couldn't resist the combination. She beat out a lot of good, hard working receptionist who just didn't make it for me. She was 25, adored sex, liked to talk about it, and dressed like she was about to do it. She just never did with me, told me that she didn't do "it" with married guys. I wondered what her excuse would be now that I wasn't anymore.
" I've been busy "
I told her as I removed my wedding band and threw it in the garbage. I went in the office and shouted at her.
" I got a client today, so you'll have stuff to do, Baby "
I call her Baby cause I never got to know her name, never crossed my mind to ask her, with a body like that, who cared ?
" What kind of stuff ? " she asked
I had to think before I answered. Right.
" Call Arthur Burns, at BURNS, CROSS & DEVERELL, and get me an appointment "
I heard her going trough the directory whispering
" B, E, R, N, E, S, "
I looked at her and admired the curve of her breast, smiling, she looked up, I winked and took the book away from her.
" let me do it"
She may be the dumbest of the dumb, but after what I'd been through she made me feel like a million bucks.
" Why did you throw away your wedding ring, Mr. Labroooozi "
She asked.
"I'm not married anymore, just broke up with the bitter half."
I answered. She looked at me like a deer that is looking at the incoming lights of an eighteen wheeler. I decided not to pursue the matter.
" Ha, found it. "
I dialed the number, waited for it to ring and gave her the handset. I went back in my office, sat on my chair and looked at the ceiling. I do my best thinking that way. All right, we know what you've been doin, the first letter said. They didn't like "it", whatever "that"
was, she kept doing " it " because they sent another one, stop " it " they said in the second, and then, stop " it " or your dead, which could mean, they're really pissed off. Baby shattered my train of thoughts with her helium voice.
" got the appointment Mr. Labroooozi "
" what time ? " I asked her.
"Oops, be right back."
What a wonderful girl.
It turned out it was for 1:00 PM at their downtown offices. It was one of those magnificent skyscrapers, a new one, couldn't have been more than three years old. Inside, it resembled one of those sci-fi movies of the near future. More than modern, and more than avant-garde.
I was expecting Mr. Spock behind the security desk. He wasn't, he looked more like Arnold Schwarz the negger. He made me feel like Tom Thumb.
" BURNS, CROSS & DEVERELL ? " I asked
" Ga straight then ga left to da elavatore, it's on de thard floore "
like I said : Schwarz the negger. On the " thard " floor, I found their office, it looked like more of the same, Sci-fi desks, Sci-fi walls, Sci-fi secretary with Sci-fi hairdo. I introduced myself and asked for Arthur Burns. She smiled and showed me in.
" Mr. Labrozzi is here. "
He stood up. He was a tall man, well over six feet, and fit like a fiddle, wearing his suit like he was born with it. Like the salesman says " It's you ". It surely was him. He had his arm extended in a friendly manner which I translated by; Shake my hand, I'm extremely
wealthy. I shook it nonetheless.
" Hi Bob, can I call you Bob ? "
He didn't wait for an answer.
" You can call me Art. "
Art. Art Burns. It was hard keeping a straight face after that.
" Sit down Bob. " He said " Now, what can I do for you ? " He finally asked.
" I'm a private investigator ... "
" I know " He interrupted.
" ... And I work for Vicky Deverell, she's been receiving threatening letters recently and
hired me to find who sent them... "
" Surely you don't think I sent them, Bob ? "
I hate Interruptions.
" Mr. Burns, Art... "
I stopped before a guffaws escaped me by mistake
"Art, I'm just here to ask you if you know anybody who might want to scare Miss Deverell. “
" Can I be frank ? "
Frank Burns from the old M.A.S.H. t.v. series.
" I think everybody who works on this floor, respects and admire the work that Vicky's done over the years, and, if I can speak for everyone who's been associated with Vicky in this firm, I would say, we love the Lesbi... huh, the woman dearly, and I can't think of anybody that would intentionally want to scare her. "
" What about outside the firm ? Some client not satisfied with her work ? " I asked
" I wouldn't know about that, Bob, I think she satisfies her
customers, since they're mostly women "
He added a wink to take his point across.
With that last remark, Mr. Art Burns made the top of my list of suspects, also, he was the only one, since I could only talk to him and not the other partner in the firm, Dave Cross, it seemed, had been away to the Cayman islands for business transactions between the firm and some Colombian clients. I went back to my office to call Vicky Deverell about a list of her most recent clients, I had to do it myself, since Baby was already gone,according to my wall clock 2:23 PM.
She never left after 3 PM. I dialed the number she gave me and let it ring three times before she picked it up.
" Deverell. " she even answered like a man.
“Yeah, it's Labrozzi, I need something"
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