The Legend of the Ditto Twins (55 page)

Breakfast
was decent enough. Mom had made French toast, without any ulterior motive, as far
as we could tell. She was still wearing her bathrobe, curlers, and slippers
when we came into the kitchen, but Dad was already in suit and tie. He was
uncharacteristically talkative, and Mom was as bubbly as I'd ever seen her. It
was obvious from their behavior that they were as relieved as we were to
realize the four of us had gotten to the finish line without killing each
other.

"Mark,
what's that?" she asked, pointing to the big dark green shopping bag I
carried.

"A
graduation present," I said, handing the bag over to Clark.

"For
you, Mom," my brother said, passing it on to her.

"What
are you talking about? I'm not graduating."

"Well,
we just thought it was about time..."

“...we
thanked you for putting up with us..."

“...this
last year." I grinned. "For putting up with all our..." I caught
myself.

Dad
chuckled. "I think 'shit' is the word you're looking for."

Mom even
managed the slightest trace of a smile.

"Open
it," we urged.

She seemed
paralyzed, so finally we reached over, lifted the box out of the bag, and
placed it in her hands. Clutching it, she sank into her chair at the table.

"But...
But it's from Marshall Field's."

"Yeah,
Lily helped us..."

“...pick
it out."

She
lifted the lid, brushed back the tissue paper, and stared down at the royal
blue silk dress within. But she didn't touch it, just stared. Finally, she
allowed her forefinger to touch the label in the neck of the dress.

"
It's
a de la Renta?
But how could you afford...?"

"Don't!"
said Dad sharply. "Honey, that's none of your business. Just say thank
you?"

"Well,
yes, of course, but..." Her eyes welled as she lifted it out of the box
and stood to hold it against her bathrobe. "It's the most beautiful dress
I've ever seen."

"We
just figured you should be..."

“...the
best-dressed mother at graduation, okay?"

"I
don't know... what to say."

"Why
don't you go try it on?" Dad suggested.

"Yes,
yes." She hugged both my brother and me and started out of the kitchen,
giggling self-consciously as she bumped into the doorframe.

Dad
turned to us. "You've no idea what this means to her." He sat down at
the table. "And to me." He reached for the syrup. "Now eat
before it gets cold."

We joined
him and started gobbling down our French toast as he reached in his hip pocket,
found his billfold, and pulled out several bills. "I'd like to
contribute."

As one,
we shoved the bills back.

"Sorry,"
he replied. He swallowed, then added, "You know..."

When he stopped,
we waited a minute or two before we finally suggested he finish his sentence.

He
shrugged. "I was just thinking, we must have done something right. More
coffee?"

Ten
minutes later, when Mom walked uneasily back into the room, we looked up in
amazement. The dress fit perfectly. She'd fixed her hair, put on some lipstick,
and even added a little eye shadow. She looked positively great, but more
importantly, she looked positively radiant.

"Well?"
She twirled dizzily about the room till Dad grabbed her and pulled her down
onto his lap. "Watch it," she said playfully. "You get one spot
on this beautiful gown that my remarkable sons gave me, and I'll sue."

Dad
roared with laughter and pulled her close to kiss her. And she let him.

After
we'd finished breakfast, she went to the cupboard, fumbled around for a moment,
and when she brought the coffee pot back to the table, she smiled and set down
an ashtray in front of my brother and me.

We had
just pulled into the school parking lot when we spotted the rented limo,
surrounded by our chosen family, all dressed to impress. (Tanisha was still
wearing her red Christmas dress and carrying her book bag, but she'd had her hair
ironed.) Everyone descended on us like a swarm of bees, and there were
peels
of laughter all around until Jay motioned Clark and
me to one side.

We
followed him into the limo. On one leather seat was a cardboard carton. Jay
reached into it and handed each of us a DVD. At the top in bold white letters
was our credit: Ryan and Bryan THE DITTO TWINS. At the bottom in equally bold
white letters was the title:
THE
DITTO PHENOMENON.
The rest of the
cover was a still photo Jay had taken on the set the last day of the shoot:
Clark and I sitting inside the red Corvette, mostly naked, locked in a
passionate kiss.

"You're
the first to see it," he said.

"Well,
not quite." Clay stuck his head in to correct Jay. "We've had em the
whole fuckin' week. Sent em out already to reviewers and industry types. I
would've
FedExed
yours, but I didn't want to take a
chance on Sissy opening your private fuckin' mail."

Just
then, a warning bell began to clang, and we took our places for the
processional. The ceremony was tedious, so I spent the hour practicing my
autograph. Clark, you might know, wore his sunglasses through the whole thing.

Mom and
Dad were waiting when we exited the gym, diplomas in hand, our mortar boards
cocked back at a rakish angle. It was all very Norman Rockwell till Mom saw
Clay and Jay in the crowd. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but we pretended
not to see the folks and instead rushed to embrace our uncles. Clay pulled me
close and whispered in my ear.

"Your
folks, Mark. Don't be a
fuckhead
."

That really
stung, especially because I knew, in a way, he was right. I murmured a
half-assed apology, pulled Clark loose from Jay, and headed for Mom and Dad.
Clark embraced our father as I went for her. She didn't move a muscle. It was
like hugging a telephone pole.

"You
didn't tell me
they
were invited."

"We
were afraid if we did..."

“...you
wouldn't come."

"You
got that one right." Still she did not move.

"But,
Mom, they're family, too. Please."

"Hello,
Sissy." It was Jay, closing in to face his sister. "It's been a long
time."

Mom
nodded but didn't speak. Jay embraced her anyway and landed a kiss on her cheek
before she could pull back. (Dad just stood there, watching.) I looked around
at all the happy families surrounding us, and there stood my mother, like a
cactus in the middle of a rose garden.

A moment
later, Clay moved in from the other side and slipped his arm around her. Now
she was trapped between her two mortal enemies, and the next thing I knew, Phil
was taking snapshots of the reunion.

"Stop
it!" she demanded. "I do not wish to have my picture taken, whoever
you are."

Lily
moved in, dragging Phil behind her. "It's okay, Sissy. He belongs to me.
This is Phil Novak, my fiancé."

Before he
could speak, I heard, "Hey-hey."

I spun
around. There was Go-To Guy. He smiled that crooked leer of his at Mom.

"Hi,"
he said. "You must be awful proud of your boys today." He turned to
Clark and me. "Oops! Almost forgot. Congratulations. Happy
graduation." He handed us a small, gift-wrapped package. "It's for
both of you. Open it."

"Geez,
thanks."

"Oh,
let's see," said Mom, utilizing this diversion to pull herself away from
Clay and Jay and trying her damnedest to summon up her Scarlet O'Hara.
"Open it."

"C'mon,
Mom, you're..."

“...embarrassing
us."

"Open
it for them, Ma'am," suggested Biff.

Clark
tried to intercept the gift but wasn't fast enough, and before we knew it, Mom
was tearing at the wrapping paper.

"Now
what could it be? It feels like
a..."

Stopping
short as the cover of our DVD came into view, she stared down at it as if it
were radioactive, but instead of tossing it away, she quickly turned it over to
study the explicit photos on the back. I turned to grab Biff and realized he
was nowhere in sight. He'd split.

Finally,
Mom spoke. "I will never forgive you for this."

"Mom."
In unison.

"Not
till the day I die." She was practically palpitating. "Your father
and I are leaving now. We will not be home until five o'clock. By then I expect
you to have all your belongings out of my house. Anything still there when we
get back will be burned. I want no memories." She paused. "Do you
hear my words?"

Clark and
I nodded.

"Good."
She turned to leave. "Remember them, because they are the last words I
will ever say to you."

While
Clay took our friends out for a drink, Jay brought the limo back to the house
to help us pack up. There wasn't a lot left; most of our stuff had long ago
been moved to Casa Clay-Jay. The biggest challenge was the Rialto mirror.
Wrapping it and roping it to the top of the limo took forever, but we finally
completed the task about a quarter to five. After one last look around, we
dropped the house keys on the kitchen table, climbed in our Mazda, and never
looked back.

To be
honest, we barely felt the rupture in our lives, except in little ways—like,
missing Mom's French toast every time we tried to make it ourselves. I guess
we'd figured out by then that we loved each other more than we loved her.

We earned
our keep by assisting Clay. He was so busy with all the details involving the
distribution of
The Ditto
Phenomenon
that we began t
o assume more and more responsibility for running his auto
parts/repo business. Far more interesting, though, was when we helped with the
publicity for the movie: collating photos and fliers, filling mail orders,
making runs to the post office and the bank each day, and best of all, doing
telephone interviews with members of the gay press, almost all of whom seemed
to share a twin fetish.