Something Important

By Beate Sigriddaughter

"Daddy, are you going to ask her to...?"

"Tssssss...." Tammy put her hand over her twin sister Sammy's mouth, her arm snaked all the way around her sister's shoulders in the back seat of the car. They'd only recently graduated from booster seats to seat belts. "We're not supposed to pry."

"I'm not prying," Sammy mumbled against her sister's hand without biting. "I just want to know."

"Look, three bald eagles up on the right," Mary called out from the front passenger seat to distract the twins. David, driving, had told her before they got into the car that he had something important to say to her later on, and the girls, who probably were not expected to pay attention to the adults, had heard it. Now, though, both girls leaned right to look out of the window.

"I see them."

"Me too."

"Daddy, don't look. Keep your eyes on the road."

That seemed to have been the end of the issue for them. Not for Mary, however. What was she going to do if he did ask? Forty-seven percent of her was yes. Fifty-three percent was no. Much like their divided country. She wanted to keep things as they were for a long time to come. It was comfortable. Another part of her, however, also wanted guarantees. And if he asked, and if she were to say yes, what would she wear? Not white, she thought. Everything seemed a bit divided these days. Except for the twins who seemed to move through the world like a well-oiled unit. Perhaps in small ways, though, they too were divided. Sammy usually hurled herself into the world with boisterous energy. Tammy more often put on the brakes of prudent obedience.

They reached the twin's mother's building. Everybody looked up to see if she were standing on the balcony waiting for them or even waving. She was not. She rarely was. Mary couldn't think of a single time, though of course she wasn't always part of the transfer. David stopped on the curb. The girls spilled out of their respective car doors, unicorn backpacks in hand, with shoulder straps trailing on the ground. Sammy's backpack was red, Tammy's blue, and the unicorns faced opposite directions, Sammy's right, Tammy's left. Other than that, they glittered identically with rhinestones Mary had recently glued into their manes and on the tips of their horns.

"Did you check the seat to make sure you have everything?" David asked. He was out of the car as well. Mary stayed in her seat, just in case they were observed from above after all. She didn't want to cause undue consternation.

"Got everything."

"Yes, Dad."

"Well then, give us a hug," he said.

"Give me a hug," Sammy corrected. "You're the singular. We're the plural."

"Okay, then give me a hug, Sammy-Tammy."

They sandwiched him between them, backpacks now on their shoulders.

"Daddy, we love you mo...."

"Tssssss.... We're not supposed to say that."

"Supposed, shmosed."

"But it's..."

"Okay. Fine. But you know anyway, Daddy."

"Bye, Mary!"

"See you next Friday!"

Mary waved from the passenger seat, and off they went into the hallway of their mother's building, holding hands while the unicorns faced each other on their backs.

"What a pair," David said when he pulled back into traffic. Mary kept her eyes fixed out the window, trying not to anticipate, trying to be as indifferent as possible. He, however, seemed to have forgotten that he was going to tell her something. Or else he was taking his time to gather his own wits.

When they got home, his ex-wife called with a complaint that they hadn't washed the twins' hair.

Much later that evening, David and Mary sat together by the fireplace, he in the rocking chair reading The Smithsonian, she on the carpet reading a novel. At some point he came to sit beside her. She kept on reading. Pretending to in any case. All her nerve endings were busy coping with his presence. He placed his hand on hers. The skin on her arm, all the way up to her elbow, became vivid sensation. Sensations always seemed to concentrate right there, hairs practically standing up.

"There's something important I want to say to you. Have wanted to all afternoon. I'm glad you played Parcheesi with us again today. Thank you for that. I thought after yesterday's fiasco with me being competitive and practically accusing the girls of cheating, you'd never play with us again. I know you were upset. They knew, too. I think it was great for them to see that detestable behavior in an adult, in anyone really, can be forgiven. You're an excellent role model. But most of all it was important for me to see that you can accept me for who I am."

"Oh, that," she said and pulled her hand away from under his. "And now I want to finish reading my novel."

Photo attribution: Micha L. Rieser, via Wikimedia