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>Horrible terrifying black mice in my kitchen earns you >a chapter! That is the math of the great and powerful >Karla. > >Follow the spiders. > >--- > >When I finally tell him, it’s out of necessity, >self-preservation. I saw his patience and concern >floating over to anger, and realized there were things >I wasn’t willing to risk anymore simply for the refuge >of silence and illusion, and that Kyle was one of >them. > >As you might expect, it started with Erica. I didn’t >call her and then I didn’t call her some more. Kyle >got testy. I was surprised to discover this upset me >more than the prospect of having a conversation with >her. It did not go well. But I felt something, >through all the lies I told her about how I did care, >that I always would; I felt more than a slightly >detached self of revulsion. I felt panic. I was >still too good at that game. Too good, too easy. I >knew, again, but with a more sudden, sharp sense of >clarity, that I didn’t want to be that guy. And it >hurt, too, when she called me a fag and spat venom at >me for being spineless and pathetic. The true parts >hurt the worst, and when Carrots found me in the >kitchen, his affection and concern for me were so >clear, so honest and on the surface, that I couldn’t >hold the pain back, and maybe I didn’t want to, >because I cried against him, and it was real, and the >start of a day filled with far too much real emotion, >of too many walls breaking down, for me to do anything >but honestly explain why I was so upset when Kyle >asked me once he got me upstairs. > >I give him the facts, but refrain from giving it any >kind of spin. I don’t go into it, I keep it fairly >surface, details, not emotions, but I don’t do >anything to steer it the other way either. My >delivery does that a bit, the calm matter of fact >approach does no justice to the feelings behind the >words, but I have to tell myself that was necessity, >not deceit. No other way could I have stood to tell >him. > >I imagine trying to tell him the rest of it, try to >picture myself saying the words that come next, >backing them up with the emotions that fit, and I >can’t do it. I can get only so far, and then, even in >my head, I can’t bring myself to even think myself >saying the words. I see him in my mind and try to >force myself to see how it would be, and I only ever >get this far… something like this, after the part we >got to, after the facts that appear to build the >foundation, when I try to imagine what comes next… > >“And this – all this bullshit – it’s not because I’ve >‘had a hard life’ – I haven’t – it’s cause I’m a >selfish little shit. And I always have been but then >you all came along and suddenly I loved you and I saw >this beautiful reflection of the person you thought I >was – the person I could be – in your eyes...” > >And that’s where I have to stop, because that’s the >image I can’t lose. I want so badly to be that >person, or, at the very least, if I can’t truly ever >be that good, be that special, I have to at least be >able to keep that image in Kyle’s eyes. > >Even though I did stop, even where I did stop, it felt >so good to tell him. Like he could take some of the >pain away, just by knowing about it. Mostly it was >mine, mostly I never told him because I knew maybe >that would mean sharing it, but upon telling him, I >realized I did want his help, even if it was just his >understanding. His patience, finally backed up with >something about me, not just him. Something I did to >earn the love and kindness that he’s always extended >to me. > >And at least now, even though he doesn’t have a lot of >the whys of everything that’s happening now, he at >least has some idea about how it started. That’s my >excuse for not going further, that at least I gave him >the truth about the beginnings of it. That has to >count for something. (right?) And of course, his >reaction was just as I imagined it when I allowed for >hope. He was angry at the universe, desperate to help >and understand, frustrated at his lack of ability to >do both, but also grudgingly respectful of the fact >that there was nothing he could do. Nothing he was >expected or desired to do. This took more time than >the rest. Realizing there was nothing I needed beyond >his acceptance and knowledge of this part of myself, >and that he leave me in majority control of this part >was difficult for Kyle, even more so than it would be >for most people, I guess. Kyle’s never been daunted >by any task in his life to the extent that he accepted >or believed he was being presented with a problem he >couldn’t fix. Getting him to understand that this >hurt went long before his time and was therefore >beyond his skill to heal, or even the necessity of >healing, took my leaving and I’m guessing a talk from >the Prince of Pain himself. But after I’d gone, >needing space and hoping all he needed was time, Kyle >took that time and then came back to me, and all I saw >was love and compassion in his eyes. > >--- > >It’s one of many, but I know that eventually, one of >the big things I’m going to have to atone for is that >for the longest time while Kyle didn’t know, the twins >did. I expect when this is revealed, as I suppose >eventually it must be, there will be yelling. And >hurt feelings. And possibly some annoyingly justified >expressions of betrayal. My only defense then, will >be, as now, that I didn’t tell them. They just knew. >And almost right away. The twins were only 14 when I >arrived on the scene, far more insightful and aware >than their brothers gave them credit for, but still >young and obviously much in their own world. They >were friendly, but rarely home. Soccer practice >seemed the perpetual answer for where they were, >followed closely by, ‘up in their room, playing video >games probably’. So we didn’t have much contact. > >Then one afternoon I came over, expecting Carrots at >the very least, hoping for Celery and Kyle as well. >Especially Kyle. But that’s not the point. What >matters is that no one was home, aside from the twins, >who were happily having a foot war on the living room >floor. I’d explain to you what a foot war is, but I’m >still kind of hazy on the finer points of the game >myself. Anyway, that’s what they were doing. But >when I wandered aimlessly in, they took pity on me, >and played up their goofy twin routine, which I >correctly guessed at the time is what they do for >strangers. And people they don’t like. I’m happy to >say they stopped with me pretty soon, and we just >ended up watching TV together. It was comfortable, in >an awful, prickly sort of way. I watched them >together, laughing, talking without words, as >comfortable with the other persons’ body as they were >with their own, and I wanted so badly to fit like that >somehow, and it hurt all the more, because I knew that >once I had. Despite that, it was a good time. I >enjoyed their company, and they were amused by mine, >so I began randomly showing up more often. Part of >this had to do with Kyle, and my hopes that he would >be the one who was home alone, but the twins were a >definite part of it. > >Now, considering the amount of people who pass through >that house on a given day, getting anyone alone is >pretty difficult. So my visits with the twins were >sporadic at best. But even when it wasn’t us alone, I >saw them, and said hello, and we observed and >appreciated each other. Maybe this is why they found >me out so quickly, maybe not. Whatever the reason, on >the third visit where it was just us, suddenly, in the >middle of a round of Identify That Canadian Actor we >were playing with Sci FI shows on Space, Jon and Dave >went mute, and stared at me wide eyed and open >mouthed. Behind their shocked expressions I >recognized the beginnings of fear. I knew the >calculations that must have been going on in their >heads. I didn’t know how they knew, but my twin >identity was obviously apparent to them, and yet, >there was no twin. No mention of my twin, no >presence. I’m not sure, but I think that day was the >first time it ever occurred to them that it was >actually possible to be without your twin. When I >swallowed with difficulty and whispered, “She died” >the greatest fear they never even knew they had was >confirmed. > >Since then, they’ve considered themselves my >protector, and my surrogate twins. There’s never been >any effort to replace Emma, and we never talk about >her, but the knowledge is there, and the >companionship. They understand a lot, because of >this, that Kyle does not. In this way they are both >the bridge that connects us and my last line of >defense. In their own way, they’re guiding Kyle >closer to the truth, helping him understand the >meaning behind it, simply setting him off after the >right clues, but they also hold him back when they >know I need it. They understand my limits, even >though they can barely stand to contemplate my loss. >They keep me safe, but they also serve as a constant >reminder that there’s no one is this house, Kyle least >of all, that I need protection from. > >--- > >The thing about Kyle is – despite all his selfless >nobility shit – he’s a Vasskez. A member of a family >who might as well have “Do not share well” as their >family motto. So what that means, basically, is two >things. > >One – our getting together was something more than >inevitable, pretty much from the get go. Looking at >it in retrospect. Kyle and I were friends, and I >swear once that’s really all we were – but we were >Vasskez friends. With all the exclusivity and >weirdness that goes into that. And once they’ve got >their claws into you that deep – there’s really no >looking back. Gay or not Kyle picked me and in since >in doing so I became the only acceptable non-relative >to hang out with, it was either start having sex with >me or never do it again. Not the most attractive >prospect for most 19-year-olds. So basically what I’m >saying is – considering the genes – I should have seen >it coming. > >Second – it means he wishes I didn’t have a past. Not >just because it’s full of shit – but because it >doesn’t star him. He doesn’t get it and it hurts him >knowing it’s all there in my head. Sam, Erica, my >parents, every person like a friend I ever had… even >Emma – these are his rivals. The happier they made me >the less he can tolerate them. It’s just as well I’m >not exactly all about the sharing when it comes to any >of them, but especially Emma, because he can’t manage >his understanding-supportive Kyle routine long without >getting sullen and annoyed with himself. But whenever >I think maybe it’s happened enough that it’s starting >to bother me, I remember that this is who he is, this >is what they all are, and it’s part of why it’s so >intoxicating to be loved by them. > >--- > >I don’t really know what the hell made me give in to >Kyle’s crazy plan for telling my parents. >Strategically, I could have handled it better. Waiter >longer, or slowly introduced the idea to them. It’s >just, the temptation to allow Kyle to ride in on his >white stallion and save me was too great. There was >no way to not without letting him in on too much, >explaining that his plan was never going to work would >have taken way too much back story, way too many >reversals on lies I’d already told. So yes, I >acknowledge that I have only myself to blame for how >it all went. I shouldn’t have let it happen. But I >did. Not just because I didn’t want to face the >alternative and what it involved telling Kyle. >Mostly, it was because I’d disappointed him so many >times already, and he was so proud of his idea, so >confident that he had, as he always expects himself >to, come up with the best, if not ideal solution. He >was so happy, so triumphant. How could I take that >away from him? > >There was no rational reason at all to go through with >his idea, except that he was so excited, and happy to >have finally solved the problem, and it was a good >idea, if you were Kyle, and you were playing with the >deck I’d dealt him, full of half-truths and wild >improvisations. Because even if he’s got the >foundation right now, there’s still that whole house >of cards I built up around it before, and the one big >truth hasn’t done much to change that. > >Keeping that in mind, it’s no wonder it went horribly >horribly wrong. Not that I exactly helped matters. >Crying and running up to my room? Not my best work. >And poor, poor Kyle. So confused, grasping for >reasons for their vehement disapproval and coming up >with nothing valid, forced to make up excuses for them >and for me as wildly as I’ve constructed the problems. > > >Is it unfair of me to expect him to know what’s really >going on when they’re feeding him as much bullshit as >me? How can he take their comments about our age >differences and the gender thing as anything but the >truth when I’ve given him no indication of what’s >going on under the surface? He thinks they’re being >horrible, cold people. They all do. And I know >that’s what it looks like from the outside, but >there’s so much more going on. They think they’re >protecting me. I’ve never wanted to let the world in >and they’ve gotten seriously skilled at helping me >keep it out. That’s all they’re doing. They’re >guarding my perimeter. I get that. I do. Even if I >can’t expect Kyle, Carrots, Jon, Dave and everyone >else to do the same, I do get it. > >Still, I can’t stay. Not right now. Kyle’s coming >for me, I know he is, and when he gets here, I’m going >to be ready. > >--- > >In retrospect, I realize I left it far too late. My >parents had grown far too used to the silence again, >to having me to themselves. As for me, I’d forgotten >too much about how I used to be, without him, and >there was no stopping the love struck look from >streaming across my face whenever I looked or even >spoke about him. I think it was the change more than >the feeling behind it that upset them so much. And to >Kyle’s eternal frustration, I understand it >completely. Quite blatantly, I broke the rules. >Their happy sunlit child died along with his sister >and they grieved for both of us for years, all the >while loving the muted withdrawn boy they’d been left >with. And I don’t mean that in the horrible way it >might sound from outside. In so many ways, it was a >wonderful, safe, warm kind of life. I had all the >love I thought I’d ever need from them, and they let >me feel what I wanted, and grieve how I needed to, and >we understood that part of each other so well, >everything else fell effortlessly into place for so >many years none of us know how to handle things now >that our old ways don’t work. > >Even as I got older and we all came to understand that >some degree of interaction with others and appearance >of animation would be necessary for us to be left >alone, it was equally agreed upon that this would be >primarily for the public. At home I was allowed to >remain quiet and passive, living largely in my own >head, with books and word games I played alone. I >lived very much among them, but did this silently. >Most evenings we would read quietly side by side on >our couch in the living room, and I’d end up curled >against one or both of them, but we rarely spoke to >each other, and when we did, we spoke softly. Despite >this, I felt like I could always tell them anything I >needed to, I just rarely found myself with much to >say. Every night I was told how much they loved me, >and I never doubted this for a minute. > >The only real communal things we ever did together >were cook and eat meals and play games. Quiet, >concentrated strategy games like Risk and Chinese >Checkers (it can be about strategy!) and Chess or huge >jigsaw puzzles, the completion of which would get us >through a winter. > >Friends I brought home on the rare occasions I did >would not be asked back if they were themselves too >loud or if they made comments about my house being >creepy, like a museum, boring, or a ‘nicely decorated >prison with bars of sadness on the windows’. This, >from Erica, who for moments off and on looked as if >she would be the one to succeed in permanently >breaking me out of this alleged prison. But I always >returned without barely needing to be asked, because I >was happiest locked away with them. > >It was probably this display of my dedication to the >life we’d built together that left my parents so >totally unprepared for my relationship with Kyle. The >fact that it came as just about as big a surprise to >me doesn’t seem to be earning me very many points. > >--- > >If there’s one thing I know about the Vasskez family >unit – it’s that they’re damn forgetful. It isn’t >that they’re careless about other people’s feelings, >or lives, it’s just that they’re really hyper-involved >in each others, and they get really intense about all >that life, the each other’s lives stuff, and that has >a way of pushing everything and everyone else out. >Not because they don’t care, they would if they were >reminded, they just forget. About the world outside, >about the rest of the sentient population. And I >mean, we all know this. It happened to me the very >first time I attempted to break into their ranks and >it only stopped happening to me because I was >persistent and patient until eventually I was one of >them, brought so deeply into the bubble I started >forgetting about the outside world as well. > >As such, it wasn’t until I found myself sitting alone >in the converted guestroom of chez Vasskez, afraid to >talk to any of them for fear of what I might say or >they might know, that I realized I really had no one >else I could talk to. No one else period. My only >other real contact with the outside world, my only >foot still in the other door, was exactly the reason I >happened to be exactly where I was. I could hardly >talk to my parents about how I was terrified and how I >thought that maybe I was disappearing into myself, >losing parts of me, losing the ability to tell which >parts were real and which parts were invention. In a >way, they were exactly the people to tell, except I >was trying to get away from that, and maybe they >didn’t have the picture as clear as they thought, and >would only end up putting me back together wrong. > >All in all, it seemed the perfect problem with which >to discuss with Grenville, except, I realized with a >start the moment after it occurred to me he was >exactly who I needed to speak to, we hadn’t hung out >in weeks. And actually, apart form those first few >times, I’d actually never really hung out with Gren. >He wasn’t really my friend, maybe he had been Kyle’s >nearly, at one point, but Kyle had been dealing with >me, and with Carrots, and he’d forgotten about Gren, >just as he’d forgotten so many others. Perhaps they >still talked in class, but Kyle had stopped brining >him up, stopping using Gren as the suggestion to my >question, “what should we do tonight?” And of course, >Gren, being Gren, had probably barely noticed. I mean >he might have noticed, but he wouldn’t have thought it >was strange, or important. Kyle and I could have been >anyone, in terms of the way Gren’s mind works. The >only way to get in with these people is to focus, and >to want it bad enough, and Gren was always too >absentminded about our association, too >self-sufficient, too content in his own, to last. > >In that moment, more than it made me sad about Gren >specifically, knowing all this simply filled me with >an overriding sense of terror. I was lost at sea with >these people, blinded to the world, but also >permanently severed from it. It wouldn’t matter what >I did, and I almost laughed out loud at my own >absurdity all these past few months, thinking I had >the luxury of being indecisive when the decision had >clearly been made for me ages ago. I was one of them. > I would be real whatever parts of me in which they >believed, and in that moment, there I was, sitting >tensely, my legs tucked tightly against my chest, >suffering from a tired and over used cliché: > >Be careful what you wish for.

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