Parker
Actually, I was grateful for the rare time alone. After the first day’s abandonment, it seemed like everyone had suddenly decided to make it their goal to never leave me alone again. Apparently searching for dreamer’s dictionaries in someone’s house is more insulting than I thought. I hadn’t realized how hard it was to be alone in a house full of so many people before. It was amazing. It made me glad to be an only child.
But now, four days into my stay, I needed the time to think. Especially after the dinner I had just sat through.
Mr. Whitney proved to be a really fun guy with some interesting stories. He regaled us with all kinds of stories about some rather unfortunately humorous patients he had had in the past, even the names of the few famous ones he had taken care of (I only recognized the names of one or two, however). He held almost everybody completely rapt as he talked, even the younger kids stared at him, wide-eyed.
There was something amiss, though. Not so much with Mr. Whitney. I just couldn’t get it out of my mind that something was wrong. I sat there at the dinner table, thinking about it for a long time, trying to figure out what it was. Mr. and Mrs. Hanson seemed happier than they had since I had been there, laughing at Mr. Whitney’s stories in all the right places, bemoaning various things in other ways. Zac and Isaac both asked questions periodically, though Isaac still had that far away air about him he’d had for the past day or two. Annie and Taylor were certainly having a good time, whispering among themselves, constantly grinning at whatever had been said between them. It was like the rest of us didn’t exist and everyone else seemed content to pretend likewise.
And that was what was wrong.
The idea hadn’t occurred to me before, but I was beginning to realize that Taylor was the only one who ever seemed comfortable whenever Annie was around. He was the only one who ever got into a normal conversation with her. He even seemed like the only one who would acknowledge her presence with more than a monosyllable. Even when we had gone to lunch, it had been mostly Taylor carrying on the conversation with her, myself joining in when I felt comfortable enough. Zac would chime in every once in a while, but that was it. It was like everyone except Taylor was a complete stranger to her. Or was someone who just didn’t want to know her at all.
I couldn’t imagine why for the life of me. I had only really talked to Annie once, but I could tell I liked her. Despite the fact that she seemed nervous around me at first, she seemed friendly enough. I blamed the nervousness on the whole twin thing. It wouldn’t have surprised me. But other than that, she seemed genuine enough. And she had good taste in music.
And that was why everyone else’s subtle hostility toward her puzzled me so much. It wasn’t so much that they were mean to her, but they just all pretended that she didn’t exist. She wasn’t there.
She and Taylor had disappeared quickly after dinner, heading out the door with serious looks on their faces. No one acknowledged the fact that they were gone except for Mr. Hanson’s sporadic pacing. I wondered briefly what was so secret about their conversation that they actually had to leave the house to discuss whatever it was.
I felt the presence behind me as I thought and therefore was able to keep myself from jumping when an inquiring voice said from behind me,
“Taylor?”
I turned to see Mr. Whitney standing behind me shyly.
“Uh, no, Parker,” I said. “Taylor went on a walk with Annie.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, though he didn’t sound particularly surprised. “I thought you were...Taylor.”
“Yeah, everyone seems to think that,” I said, smiling as I turned back to the dishes.
To my surprise, he didn’t leave after discovering his mistake. Instead, he actually came closer and leaned on the counter as if he lived in the house himself and was used to doing such things.
“Lots of dishes to do by yourself,” he observed.
I shrugged. “I had a helper, but he seems to have disappeared.”
He nodded. “Doing dishes is a good time to think, isn’t it?” he said. “You looked quite deep in thought when I got in here. What were you thinking about?”
The man’s forwardness caught me off guard. He acted like we had known each other forever and it was a bit awkward. I felt like reminding him that I wasn’t Taylor, but then remembered that he knew Taylor no better than he knew me.
“Just...thinking about things,” I said.
“Like what?”
Was I being interrogated?
“Like your twin brother?” he suggested when I didn’t answer him.
“You could say that,” I said.
“It must be strange to have found your twin brother after such a long time of separation,” he commented.
“Well, yeah,” I replied, letting my discomfort in the line of questioning show in my voice. I wasn’t liking this. Why was he asking me these questions?
“I’m sorry if I seem like I’m prying,” he said. “I don’t mean to. It’s just that I don’t come in contact with too many reunited twins very often. It sort of intrigues me, I suppose. All sorts of questions run though my head.”
“Such as?” I said, knowing that the sooner I answered his questions, the sooner he’d go away.
“Such as do you think more of the rest of your long lost family now that you’ve found your brother?” he asked.
I looked at him then, but I could see nothing but curiosity in his old blue eyes. I realized that the color of his eyes looked very familiar, but I couldn’t place where I had seen it before. I knew I had never seen it that gray before and yet I had seen it somewhere.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe a little. I don’t think much about them.”
His face visibily fell.
“Oh?” he said. “Not about who or where your mother might be?”
I sighed. “Well, she obviously doesn’t care where I am, so I don’t see why I should care where she is,” I said frankly. He looked taken aback by my answer.
“What if she did?” he asked, sounding defensive. “What if she was trying to find where you are right now?”
“I don’t think she is,” I said. “She would have found me by now if she was looking that hard.”
He nodded in acceptance. “I’m sorry to hear that, Parker.”
“Don’t be,” I said, turning off the water and wiping my hands on my pants. The dishes were done and it suddenly seemed imperative to get out of the kitchen before he could ask any more questions. I didn’t like these questions and I didn’t know what right he had to ask them of me. Who did he think he was?
Just as I was walking out of the kitchen, Mr. Hanson was pacing back in.
What if I told you it was "Hug an Author" month?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Five