After the bombshell she dropped on us tonight, she’s surprisingly cheerful.
“It’s fine. The storm knocked out the power, but I’m ok. Hey, mom… Finn can’t be alone. He needs to come to with me. I mean it. You don’t understand how important it is.” Because I can’t tell you over the phone.
I eye his journal, lying on a nearby table. If mom and dad knew some of the stuff in there, the weird Latin phrases, the scratched out words, the craziness, then they truly wouldn’t be giving me so much pushback.
But they don’t know because they respect his privacy, and because of that, they’re resolute in their desire to force independence on us.
Mom sighs now because this is a tired argument, and she’s tired of having it.
“You know our feelings on this,” she says firmly. “I get that you want to protect Finn. And I love that you’re so protective, but Calla, he has to learn to live without that and so do you. You’ve got to have a life of your own, without constantly watching over your brother. Please trust us to know what’s best.”
“But mom,” I argue. “After everything that happened tonight with… Something happened tonight. And more than ever, I know I can’t leave Finn. I know him better than anyone.”
“What happened tonight?” mom asks, quickly and curiously. “Did something happen with…”
“It’s nothing I want to talk about over the phone,” I interrupt her tiredly. “I just… I want you to promise me that you’ll think about letting Finn and me stay together. Please. I’m part him, and he’s part me and that’s what being a twin is all about. He might be different than me in one way, but we’re the same in a million others. No one gets him like I do. He needs me.”
Mom sighs again. “That’s the whole point, honey,” she says gently. “The one difference between you. Think back to that day, the day that we first knew about it. Tell me again what happened.”
I’m the one sighing now because my heart is aching and I don’t want to talk about this now. Maybe calling her was a bad idea.
“You know what happened,” I say limply.
“Humor me,” she directs me. Firmly.
“We were playing Capture the Flag in Kindergarten.” I tell her reluctantly, like I’m reciting from a book. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the hot, dirty gym floor. “Finn had the flag. He was running.” His skinny arms and legs were flying, his hair was damp on his brow.
“And then?”
My chest hurts a little. “Then he started screaming. And running in the other direction. He wasn’t playing anymore. He was screaming about demons chasing him.”
“And what else?” My mom’s voice is sympathetic, but still very firm.
“And my name. He was screaming my name.”
I can still hear him shrieking my name, his voice boyish and shrill and desperate.
Caaaaaallllllllaaaaaaa!
But before I could do anything that day, he climbed the hanging rope all the way to the ceiling to get away from the demons.
The demons.
It’d taken four teachers to get him down.
He wouldn’t even come down for me.
He was hospitalized for two weeks after that and diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder, which is a nasty cross between Schizophrenia and Bi-Polarism and very appropriately referred to as SAD. He’s been medicated ever since. He’s been chased by those effing demons ever since, too.
That’s why he needs me.
“Mom,” I murmur desperately, because I know where she’s headed with this. But she’s unrelenting.
“Calla, he called for you. Because he always calls for you. I know it’s a twin thing, but it’s not fair to either of you. You’ve got to be able to go to college and figure out who you are outside of being Finn’s sister. He’s got to do the same. I promise you, we’re not doing this as a punishment. We’re doing it because it’s best. Do you trust me?”
I’m silent, mostly because my throat feels hot and constricted and I can’t speak from the mere frustration.
“Calla? Do you trust me?”