Truth felt his own chest tighten. The shame and guilt, the years of blame and beatings—everything he’d worked so hard to forget, to stuff down inside himself and never think of—his younger self’s wavering voice brought it all back. All my fault, he thought. I deserved it—everything he did to me. Because it was all my fault.
“It’s not your fault,” Far said softly. He was speaking to Truth’s younger self but the dark twin felt almost as though his brother was speaking directly to him.
“But Apa said…he always says—” the boy started.
“It’s a lie,” Far said firmly. He pulled the young Truth close. “A lie that hurts—a lot. And don’t worry, young one. It’s all right to cry if you need to.”
“Rai’ku…do not…do not c-cry,” the boy whispered. But tears were coming anyway, rolling down his thin cheeks and wetting his ragged sleeping tunic.
“They may not,” Far murmured, gathering the boy into his arms. “But Kindred do. And there is no shame in it.”
As Truth watched his brother comfort his younger self, he felt something welling up inside him. It was as though a knot inside his chest was loosening. As though a door he had locked and lost the key to was suddenly standing at least partially open. He felt his younger self’s terrible grief—his need to fit in, to make his father proud. His fear that he would never be able to do this—the burden of his father’s hatred and blame. It was so heavy—too heavy a burden for the thin, slight shoulders of the small boy in front of him to bear.
And yet, somehow, Far was helping him bear it.
“I know you’re scared right now,” the light twin was murmuring as he held the sobbing boy. “I know you feel lonely and all alone—like no one loves you. Like no one cares.”
“Yes,” Truth whispered, unaware he was speaking aloud. “Yes, exactly.”
“Truth?” Becca whispered, and he felt her take his hand. “Truth, honey, are you okay?”
“Fine.” Truth couldn’t take his eyes from what was happening.
“But I promise you that someone does love you,” Far said softly, wiping the boy’s streaming eyes gently. “There’s someone on the other side of the galaxy—someone who misses you every bit as much as you miss him. And someday you’ll find each other and then you won’t be alone anymore. You’ll be whole. I promise. I promise.”
“H-how do you kn-know?” Young Truth looked up at him, his eyes still red from weeping.
“I just do.” Far smiled at him sadly. “It’s going to take you a few years to find him but when you do—the two of you will be like two halves of a whole.”
“Is it my twin?” the boy asked eagerly. “Please say it is. Apa says he died with my mother and my other father but I always have the feeling that he’s still out there somehow.”
“He is. And he’s wishing for you every bit as much as you’re wishing for him.” Far helped the boy back into the swaying hammock bed. Then he unbuttoned his heavy green satin uniform shirt and laid it across the scrawny, shivering form. “I wish I had something warmer to give you,” he murmured. “But I’m afraid this will have to do for now.”
“Thank you.” Young Truth’s eyes were already growing sleepy as he snuggled under the thick, silky fabric. Clearly the emotional scene he’d just gone through had worn him out. “It’s nice,” he murmured.
“Sleep well.” Far bent over and kissed the child’s forehead gently.
Reflexively, Truth raised his hand and pressed his fingertips to his own forehead. Had that really just happened? Had Far actually comforted and protected his younger self despite all their angry words and disagreements?
“Truth, honey? Are you okay?” Becca murmured and he somehow dragged his eyes from the scene in front of him to look at her.
“I’m fine,” he said huskily. “Why…why do you ask?”
“Because you’re crying.” Reaching up, she brushed her fingertips over his cheek. They came away wet in the dim light.
“It’s nothing.” Truth quickly rubbed his face with his sleeve. “I…must have gotten something in my eyes.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Becca didn’t sound convinced. “All right then, baby. As long as you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” he repeated. Just then Far came over to join them.
“He’s almost asleep,” he murmured softly. “I think we should go now.”
“Can we?” Becca asked.
Far nodded. “I think our work here is done.”
“I am…sorry I couldn’t help you,” Truth said, speaking up at last. “I found myself…frozen. Unable to say or do anything as everything…unfolded.”
“I had the same sensation,” Becca exclaimed. “It was awful! All I wanted to do was go slap that drunk bastard—sorry guys, I know he’s your father but—”
“No apology needed,” Far said. “He was, as you say, a drunk bastard.” He looked at Truth. “But maybe you feel differently?”
“I…used to,” Truth said slowly. “I really believed everything he told me. That I was the reason he was stuck on Pax. That everything bad that happened to him was my fault.”
“But that’s crazy!” Becca exclaimed indignantly.
“I see that now,” Truth said. He turned to Far. “So I guess you’ve uncovered my secret,” he said harshly. “I did long for a twin when I was young. For a brother.”
“That is no secret to me,” Far said softly. “We are Twin Kindred and we were separated. Of course we yearned to be together. It’s only natural.”
“Why did you do it?” Truth demanded. “Why did you defend me—my younger self—after all the harsh words I’ve said to you? All the anger between us?”
“How could I not?” Far said gently. “You’re my brother. Though we may quarrel, I still care for you. I could not stand by and see you harmed or watch you mourn without comforting you. That is part of what being a brother is. Remember when I said I wanted to share your pain as well as your pleasure?”
“I remember,” Truth said in a low voice. “I…did not believe you at the time.”
“And now?” Far asked.
Truth thought of the small boy crying in his brother’s arms, thought of the pain and fear and shame and the soothing way Far had comforted him. Me…he was comforting me. For didn’t that same, small child still live inside him? Wasn’t there a piece of his soul that would forever be eight cycles old, a little boy dealing with the fear of failure, the belief that his father would never love him?
“Yes,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “I believe you, Brother.” He held out an arm to his twin. “Thank you, Far. For defending me when I could not defend myself.”
“I only wish I could have done it for real…instead of just in the shadow of a dream.” Far took his arm in a hard clasp and looked into Truth’s eyes. Truth met his gaze unflinchingly.
“You did,” he said. “This…this was real. I do not know the Mindscape’s reason for showing it to us but I know that much, at least.”
They might have stood there, holding each other’s arms indefinitely if they hadn’t heard Becca’s muffled exclamation.
“What is it, Rebecca?” Truth asked and at the same time, Far said,
“Are you well, mi’now?”
“No.” Her voice wavered uncertainly. “Not if that’s what I think it is.”
“What?” Truth turned to look behind himself, in the direction Becca was staring. “What is it?”
“I believe,” Far said in a low voice “It’s another door.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Though it had been over five years since she’d seen it, Becca recognized the door to her college dorm room at once. It was the poster that did it—the olive green USF background with the gold Bulls logo in the center. Becca wasn’t the one who had placed it there—her roommate, Cynthia was. Cynthia was a cheerleader who was so stuffed full of team spirit she was downright annoying. Luckily, her perky presence was mostly absent from their dorm room—she was always too busy partying to do anything boring like sleep
or study.
“Becca?” Truth asked. “Is there a problem?”
“I…I don’t want to go in there. Don’t want to go through that door,” Becca whispered, twisting her fingers together behind her back. “I…I can’t.”
“Why, mi’now? What’s wrong? Are you afraid we’ll see something you don’t want us to see?” Far asked.
“No. I’m afraid I’ll see something I don’t want to see.”
Having watched as the Mindscape made Truth relive what had to be one of his worst memories, Becca knew what was bound to be in store for her.
That night, she thought frantically. That awful night…I can’t…I don’t want to…
“We have to go through,” Truth said firmly. “I’m sorry, Rebecca, but if we don’t, we’ll all be terminated. Dissolved in the tanks—remember?”
Biting her lip, Becca nodded. The slime tanks. Remember that’s where you really are—none of this is real. None of it! You just have to pass this test, whatever it is, so you can get out of there. Otherwise you’ll be dissolved into sludge.
The thought made her shiver and though she didn’t want to in the worst way, she knew what she had to do.
Reaching out a hand, she twisted the simple metal knob and pushed open the door to her dorm.
Cynthia wasn’t there, as usual, but College age Becca was. She was lying on her stomach in the middle of the narrow twin bed on her side of the room wearing nothing but a man’s oversized green t-shirt and a pair of polka dot bikini panties. Becca saw Truth and Far’s eyes flick over her in the skimpy outfit but she didn’t care. In fact, she barely noticed them at all. She was too busy watching her younger self.
Becca knew what was about to happen, knew that her life was about to be changed forever. But her younger self was blissfully ignorant—she was too caught up in her own little world to have any idea that it was about to come crashing down around her ears.
College age Becca smiled and hummed a happy little tune to herself. She held her left hand up, clearly admiring the tiny chip-diamond ring which graced her slender finger.
“What is that? What is that she’s looking at?” Truth asked in a low voice.
“An engagement ring,” Becca heard herself murmur tonelessly. “Kenneth gave it to me right before he…” She stopped, unable to go on.
“Before he what?” Far asked softly.
“I can’t.” Becca shook her head. “You’ll see. The Mindscape will make us all see,” she added bitterly.
College age Becca rolled lazily onto her back, holding her hand over her head to admire the ring from another angle. The bed she lay on was messy and only half made up. As though someone had been having sex on it, Becca thought, remembering her first and only time which had happened just an hour before this little scene they’d walked in on. Though she didn’t want to think about it, she couldn’t help remembering.
It had hurt a little and even when the pain stopped, there hadn’t been much pleasure. But it was nice just being held in Kenneth’s arms—feeling connected to him in such an intimate way. They had talked about the wedding afterwards—Becca would never have consented to give herself to him if they hadn’t already planned to be married. She hadn’t told her parents yet and she wasn’t sure how they would react—Kenneth wasn’t Catholic so that was going to be a problem right there. But Becca was in love and she just knew this was right. She and Kenneth were going to get married and have at least three kids—maybe four—and live in a big house on the beach and…
“What an idiot I was,” Becca whispered fiercely, glaring at the happy, humming, recently engaged girl on the bed. “Wake up!” she yelled at her younger self. “It’s never going to happen. You have all these plans and dreams and none of them is going to come true! None of them!”
She expected to scare her younger self to death but college age Becca just kept humming and admiring her ring like an idiot, making Becca want to choke her.
“I don’t think she can hear you,” Far said softly. He spoke louder. “Or any of us, actually.”
“Why not?” Truth asked in a normal tone of voice when the younger Becca made no sign of either hearing or seeing them. “My younger self could hear us—well, you, anyway,” he said to Far.
“Maybe because he was a child,” Far said thoughtfully. “Or maybe because he needed so badly to see and hear me. He never saw the two of you,” he pointed out.
“I don’t think the younger version is capable of seeing the older version,” Truth said. “It is like…a blind spot. Perhaps you can’t directly influence or interact with the younger you because it might cause a paradox.”
“But that would make this actual time travel—not just memories shown to us by the Mindscape,” Far objected. “And how—”
“Shut up—both of you,” Becca said tensely.
They looked at her in surprise.
“Mi’now? Are you well?” asked Far and Truth simply said,
“Rebecca?”
“It’s about to happen.” Becca squeezed her hands into fists at her sides. “It’s close—I can feel it!”
“Feel what?” Truth asked but just then, College age Becca’s cell phone rang.
“About time,” she muttered, rolling over on the messy bed to snag the small, slim phone off her night table. “How long does it take to pick up take-out anyway?” Without looking at the number, she put the phone to her ear. “Hi, babe, I was just getting worried. Where are y—Oh…”
Watching the scene unfold, Becca felt like someone had dipped her heart in ice water. She saw the uncertainty on her younger self’s face turn to disbelief and then horror.
“I…I understand,” College age Becca whispered numbly into the phone. “My number…emergency contact. Of course. But I…but he…he was just here. Here with me.” She put a hand to her head and rubbed her right temple fiercely. “I…identify th-the body?” she whispered.
“Identify whose body?” Truth asked in a low growl.
“Kenneth,” Becca whispered through numb lips. “I mean, Kenneth—my fiancé.”
She watched as her younger self slowly hung up the phone. She shook her head. “No…no, no, no, no, no.” College age Becca stood abruptly and began pacing around the room. The cell phone lay forgotten on the bed, both hands were buried in her long, curly hair. They tightened into fists until Becca could almost feel the pain her younger self was inflicting on herself.
College age Becca stopped in front of the large mirror hanging on Cynthia’s side of the room. She stared into it, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“Wake up,” she ordered her reflection harshly. “This has to be a dream—wake up!”
“But I couldn’t,” Becca whispered, watching her younger self pace. “I couldn’t wake up. It felt like a nightmare but it wasn’t. He was really gone. Really dead.”
Across the room, her younger self grabbed one of her roommate’s cheerleading trophies and hurled it at the mirror. The impact shattered the glass, breaking it into a thousand, thousand pieces.
“Wake up!” she screamed. “Now! Wake UP!”
Suddenly the door slammed open and Cynthia, her roommate, appeared.
“What the hell, Becca?” she demanded, putting one perfectly manicured hand on her slim hip. “I could hear you all the way down the hall! Are you crazy? Why did you break my mirror? Why—”
The words seemed to die on her lips when College age Becca turned and looked at her with wide, shocked eyes.
“The police called,” she whispered. “Kenneth…he’s dead.”
“Oh, no!” Cynthia, who wasn’t all bad, took her by the arms at once. “No, honey—that can’t be right. It can’t.”
“I have to go…go identify his…his body.” College age Becca was beginning to lose it. “I…I have to go now.”
She headed for the door, shambling like a zombie, but Cynthia grabbed her arm.
“Wait! You can’t go like that. Put on some sweatpants—I’ll drive you. It has to be some kind of mistake. You’ll get dow
n there and it’ll be someone else. Everything’s going to be okay—you’ll see.”
Watching her roommate babbling as she helped her younger self get dressed, Becca felt everything all over again. The unreality of the situation…the horrible realization that this wasn’t some kind of a nightmare that she could wake up from…the knowledge that the man she loved was gone forever…
“No,” she heard herself whispering as she watched Cynthia support College age Becca as she stumbled out the door. “No, please. Please, don’t be dead…please just…don’t be dead.”
She hid her face in her hands as every awful emotion she’d felt at that moment came rushing through her like a hurricane. Dead. He’s dead and it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let him…if we hadn’t given in, he’s still be alive right now. My fault, my fault…all my fault. She knew the thoughts and feelings weren’t rational but she couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t shake the feeling that her fiancé’s death was a punishment for what they had done. All my fault…
“What’s your fault, Rebecca?” Truth asked in a low, rough voice. He put and arm around her shaking shoulders and Becca realized she must have spoken her words aloud.
“What happened, mi’now?” Far asked, also encircling her with an arm around her waist.
Becca had to fight to get the words out.
“He…we…we made love. It was my first time. But Kenneth wasn’t Catholic—and we weren’t married. Not yet. We were going to get married so I thought it was all right. But it wasn’t. It…it…”
“Mi’now?” Far looked at her with obvious concern.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Truth rumbled.
But somehow Becca found she couldn’t stop talking about it. It was like a festering poison that had to come out.
“After we made love, Kenneth went out to get Chinese food. He went to this little hole in the wall—kind of in a bad part of town but it was cheap and good and the owner was this sweet old man who knew us. He…he had our favorite order memorized. We went there a lot.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to go on. “It was late and as Kenneth was leaving there was a…a hold up.”