Underneath the Sycamore Tree

He looks at me. “You call Henry, Dad, yet I can tell you don’t want to. It bothers you to label him for what he is. That’s where you and I are different. I don’t have to call Cam anything that I don’t want to.”

Why is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow the question. He won’t answer it. And if he does, it’ll lead to some snarky remark that I don’t have the energy to dissect, so what’s the point?

The ride home is quiet. I watch the scenery pass, the patches of evergreens and sycamores changing into developments that look identical to each other. Lo and I used to want to live in houses just like these right next to each other. Mama would tell us that it’d change when we got older because we’d be two different people, but neither of us believed it.

Mama probably wishes she could see us live out that old dream. Identical twins living in identical houses, raising families together and being happy. Coffee dates on Sundays. Our children on swings in a park somewhere. Lots of smiling and laughter.

She hasn’t called since I moved. Sometimes she’ll text me and ask how I am but when I respond, I’ll only ever get a one-word reply back. Even through the screen I can feel her sadness. It seeps into the words and I picture her typing each letter with glassy, golden eyes.

I don’t realize we’re home until Kaiden asks if I’m getting out. He doesn’t say it in a rude way, but I grab my bag and slip out of the car without so much as looking at his expression which I only assume is unreadable as ever. Sometimes it would be nice to have someone close by who gets me like Lo used to.

That’s asking too much now.

Nobody could get me like Lo did.

Chapter Three

Saturday is quiet. Dad and Cam went to a farmer’s market in the morning. I pretended to sleep so they wouldn’t ask me to go, and then listened to them leave before pulling out a book and curling under my warm blankets.

Kaiden left a little before noon, not saying a word when he saw me making a sandwich in the kitchen. He grabbed an apple and stared at the pajama shorts I wore before grabbing his keys and leaving. I went back to making lunch before closing myself in my bedroom and cranking up the heater.

Glancing at all the furniture in the room has me comparing everything to my old one. Here everything is white and gray. The bedding is white and fluffy and warm, the sheets a deep gray, the pillows a mixture of the two that match the patterned curtains. In the corner is a full-length mirror trimmed with white with dangling lights in shapes of stars. I keep them on at night in case I need to get up, that way I don’t trip on the shoes I kick off in the middle of the floor.

When I saw the stars, I immediately thought of when Lo and I begged Dad to take us out to watch the night sky. He told us once that he and Mama went stargazing on their first date. Did he put them there to remind me that he thinks about it too? How we all laughed and pointed and made up names for the constellations because none of us knew what they were called?

The room is huge, and almost everything is new. It’s the exact opposite of the one I shared with my sister. Cam said she had a lot of fun decorating it by adding canvas art on the walls with quotes and images—flowers, animals, people. Dad said she always wanted a daughter.

By midday, my body starts aching. It begins in my wrists, a telltale sign for more to come. I struggle holding my book, so I decide to rest after taking some Motrin. An hour nap only settles the pain in my elbows and shoulders, and when I try getting up for some water I cringe at the dull pang in my hips.

Pushing past the feeling, I force myself to walk out to the living room. Both Dad’s and Cam’s cars are in the driveway and I hear them talking from the backyard. When I glance out the window, I notice them in the garden together.

Since when does Dad garden?

Cam laughs and brushes dirt off Dad’s face, only smearing it worse. He smiles and says something before looking up and noticing me. Cam glances too, waving at me with a bulky beige glove covering her hand.

I open the glass door and stand at the doorway. My feet are bare, my legs exposed by my sleep shorts, and my body still sore from the oncoming flare. Instead of showing them, I give a tiny wave back.

Dad helps Cam up and helps brush dirt off her pants. He gives my attire a once-over, clearly wanting to say something. They walk to me, Cam ditching her glove and putting it on the picnic table. When they stop in front of me, Dad lets go of her hand.

He frowns at my pajamas. “Don’t you want to change into actual clothes? It’s a bit late to be wearing those.”

Instead of frowning like I want to, I tug on the hem of my tee. “I’ve just been lounging. Why bother dirtying regular clothes if I’m going to stay in all day?”

Cam pats my arm and I try not to wince at the ache radiating from my joints and muscles as she does it. “Your father and I were thinking about taking the family out to dinner tonight. How about we all get cleaned up and get ready?”

Shifting my weight, I debate on telling them I’d rather stay in. If I do that, they’ll ask questions. Dad will shove pain relievers in my hand, Cam will ask if I need to go to the hospital, and Kaiden will glower like I’m an inconvenience—like his mother’s attention toward me is pathetic.

I wonder what Cam’s eyes look like when she cries.

“Kaiden isn’t here,” is my weak attempt to back out of the dinner. Going out when I don’t feel well is too much of a hassle. Pretending to be okay for the sake of others is a draining act to an already underpaid show.

Cam waves her hand in dismissal. “He’ll meet us there. Let’s go inside. The Cantina isn’t a formal restaurant, so jeans and a blouse will be fine to wear.”

The Cantina sounds an awful lot like it serves Mexican food. Considering Dad said he did some research on my disease, something tells me dietary habits isn’t something he google searched.

I don’t say anything. Cam seems excited and Dad seems happy because Cam is, so I walk into my room and slip into a pair of black leggings and slide on a loose long sleeve shirt. Slipping into the pineapple Toms that Kaiden called ugly, I make my way back out to the living area.

Dad is cleaned up and wearing a new pair of jeans and a black button-down, like his version of casual only half exists. Cam is in a sundress with her dirty blonde hair pulled back and she looks a lot like Kaiden. Same tan complexion, same round eyes, and same plump lips. Their hair and eye color are different though, and where her features are soft and inviting, his are hard and repellant. It makes me wonder if he got his brown hair and eyes and rough personality from his father. Where is he?