“You think we’d plan to dress like each other?”

Another Country -12-
by Erin Halfelven

Dad came in, scooped Mom up for a hug and a kiss, then turned toward Cyndy, who dodged behind her husband. It’s not hard to guess that John inherited his affectionate behavior from his dad.

“Anybody hungry?” Dad asked, heading toward the hall to the back bedroom, already pulling his shirt out of his waistband. He paused to give me a curious look, flicking his glance back to Cyndy for an instant, then back to me. An eyebrow went up, but he didn’t say anything.

“We’re all starved,” John assured him. “Hurry up and get changed, old man.”

“Watch it,” Dad warned. “I still outrank you, boy.” But he hurried on down the hall, followed by Mom.

John and Dad have always had this mock-insulting way of relating to each other. It never seemed to work for me. John and Dad were close, but Mom and I were probably closer, and we didn’t treat each other like pretend enemies.

John looked again at me, then at Cyndy, frowning. “You guys didn’t plan this, did you?”

Cyndy scowled. “You think we’d plan to dress like each other?”

John shrugged, “How do I know? Women and little brothers are mysteries.”

“Do you want to ask Bobby to change?” Mom suggested.

I frowned at that, and Cyndy laughed. “Nah, if it doesn’t embarrass him to look like me, it won’t embarrass me to look like him.”

“People will ask if you’re twins,” John teased.

I pointed at Cyndy, “She’s the older.” People always ask that about twins.

They all laughed, and Cyndy poked John in the ribs again. “As long as you can tell us apart.”

“Well, I have slept with both of you, but it’s been years.”

I winced, but everyone else laughed again. It had been years since John and I had shared a bed, back before I started school, and Mom and Dad’s new master bedroom had been built as an add-on. Cyndy pointed out that if John went overseas, it might be years before he slept with either of us again.

More laughter and Dad, coming down the hall, still tucking his clean dress-shirt into his waist, asked, “What’s funny?”

John pointed with both hands, crossing his arms in front of himself. “Twinsies,” he said.

Dad rolled his eyes. “Don’t let them know you noticed. They hate that.” He started to say something else, glanced at me and then Mom and instead announced. “Let’s eat, I’m starved.”

*

We took Dad’s big crew-cab pickup to the restaurant at the far end of Cabarker’s little eight-block-long downtown, John and I sandwiching Cyndy between us in the backseat. “Hey,” she protested, “scoot your fat ass over a bit. I need room.”

I edged over without saying anything, though it was obvious which of us had the fatter butt.

Mom, in the front passenger seat, turned around, more or less, to talk to Cyndy. “I think you’ll like this place. There really is a fountain in a garden on the side, and there are tropical fish in aquariums throughout the place. The owner has a shop in the same block where he sells fish and supplies.”

“I can understand someone living in this dusty desert wanting to feel cool by looking at some fish,” Cyndy observed.

“It’s only May,” John mentioned. “Wait till July for some hot weather. And the wind blows in June and all winter for some extra dust.”

She made a face. “You make it sound so inviting.”

“Don’t worry,” he added. “The trailer we’re going to fetch for you has an air conditioner on the roof.”

“I haven’t seen it in years, but it was in good shape then. Cozy,” Mom put in.

“Cozy is real estate agent language. It means small,” Cyndy said.

I was nodding when I caught Mom glaring at me and stopped.

“Wait till you see it. It’s got a kitchenette and its own bathroom with a shower. The bedroom is in the back with a couch up front that also makes a bed.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“John and I will go up to David’s place to bring it back tomorrow,” Dad said from the front. “You and Bobby can go along if you want; we’re taking this truck. Although,” he paused as if thinking about something. “Maybe you shouldn’t dress alike, David would surely say something about that.”

He and John laughed, and Mom rolled her eyes. Cyndy and I just glanced at each other, and I shrugged.

*

We parked in a shady spot; drivers get in the habit of doing that in Cabarker. We exited the vehicle, with John giving an assist to Mom and Cyndy, while Dad held the door and watched me struggle not to fall off the high seat. “Thanks,” I said, and he nodded, as if.

There were people lined up at the entry; Saturday night, it got busy for dinner at all the good places to eat in town. But there were shady benches to sit and wait in the garden that Mom had mentioned while Dad went to get us a table.

“Five of us,” he said unnecessarily before setting off.

John called after him. “Dad,” he said with a sort of fake energy. “There’s five of us.”

Dad ignored him, and Mom, Cyndy and I giggled.

I was still blushing about the giggle when an older woman on another bench said loud enough for me to hear. “I would never have dressed like my older sister when I was that age.”

“She’s my sister-in-law,” I said, matching her loudness. “That makes it all right.”

“Hmph,” said the lady while her husband winked at me.

Cyndy snorted, and John commented, “It’s only hard to tell them apart in the dark.” Which caused Cyndy to choke and slap at him. She missed, but I put a knuckle under his shoulder blade and pushed and twisted. I knew exactly where to do it, too.

He tried not to wince, but his ears kind of wiggled.

Dad came out of a side door with a waiter. “It’s so nice, I thought we could eat outside.” He gestured for us to follow, and the waiter hurried ahead to open a gate into another part of the garden, where large round tables sat under wide umbrellas. The place’s trademark aquariums separated the dining spots, providing a bit of privacy, with their gurgling pumps and aerators complementing the soft Mexican music rather than competing with it.

We were met by two more waiters who quickly cleaned and set the table, then held chairs out for Mom, Cyndy, and me to sit down.

Everyone looked at me, smiling. “What?” I asked, wondering if they had heard my stomach growling.