“So, the twins are sick today?”
“No, Mr. Faust, Megan’s here.”
“So, Megan and Peter are here?”
“No, Mr. Faust, Peter is sick today.”
“So, Peter and Megan are sick?”
“No,” I cut in for the first time since he started
attendance. “I’m here. Peter is sick.”
Mr. Faust looks up from his grade book, his puzzled look
ever deepening. “So… Megan is here… and Peter… is… sick?”
I smile slightly, showing him he’s finally caught on.
Believe it or not, that’s a true story. And it happened
every time one of us was sick and the other wasn’t.
I grew up as one half of a two person set. My brother and I
are kind of a buy one get one free special.
“If you call right now to order the smart, tall, outspoken
twin you automatically receive the equally as smart, short, awkward one absolutely
free of charge!”
If my life were an infomercial, it would be something like
that. I’m the short one, by the way. Try being five foot six when your twin
brother is six four. It’s a pain, let me tell you.
We get tired of being clumped together all the time. We're fraternal twins (dizygotic and proud of it!). Even
though we aren’t anywhere close to being identical, people still count us as
one person.
We’ve always been “Peter and Megan,” or “the twins.” People
also have the weird fascination with putting us together and simply calling us
by our last name, as if we were a singular unit. Even our parents do it.
“We’re two separate people!” My brother frequently yells
that at people who haven’t yet come to know us separately.
I’ve gotten past it; it doesn’t bother me anymore.
The thing that bothers me is the comparisons.
I hate when teachers compare us, but what’s worse is when
our friends and classmates do it.
We both say we can’t wait until college, just so we can get
away from each other.
But we’ll (probably) miss our other halves. Deep, deep down.
Only Peter will laugh if I tell a joke about “a level seven
scaring the bejeezus out of me.”
I’m the only one that’ll go around the township with Peter
collecting cones on a school night and putting boots on our friend’s porches.
We have so many inside jokes that people think we speak in
code.
We’re twins and we have a relationship that’s hard for
single birth children to understand.
Whether we were looking for a brother or sister, a rival, a
friend, or a grim reaper (yet another inside joke) Peter and I have never had
to look far to find someone to help us out.
But sometimes, we both really wish we did.