Mrs. Crawford looked at me and asked, Can I talk in front of her?
Of course, Becca. Mom sounded annoyed.
Okay. But she lowered her voice anyway. Margaret, I didn’t know you had—her voice lowered even more—IVF. But not for the regular reason.
Mom laughed but it sounded weird. Too high. She tucked her hair behind her ear and checked the rearview mirror even though she wasn’t ready to back out yet. It’s hot out, Becca. You should get back in your car.
I’m so sorry if I embarrassed you. I just kind of thought it was something you would have told us. We’re in book club together.
I guess I just thought it was personal, Rebecca.
Oh, it is. And we would never tell anyone outside of book club. Don’t worry about that.
Mrs. Crawford shifted like she might walk away, but then hung on to the open window instead. I guess I just don’t understand why you thought having another boy would be such a bad thing.
I didn’t think it was a bad thing. I just wanted to have a girl as well.
Isn’t IVF for gender selection illegal?
Now Mom was mad. I could tell because she was holding the wheel with both hands. And her hands looked very white.
Not that it’s any of your business, but I went to the States.
But what about God’s will? Mrs. Crawford asked. Maybe Adam was supposed to have a brother. As a mother of four boys, I can tell you that there is nothing stronger than the brother bond. Mrs. Crawford looked straight at me. I can’t help but wonder if these sorts of things happen when we mess with nature.
Then she was rushing away across the street again. The back of her dress was soaked.
What a nasty person. Mom said it so quietly I could barely hear. Then she looked at me out of the corner of her eye. What did you think of that? (When my parents want to know if I understand something, they ask what I think of it.)
Clare told everyone this morning that we weren’t supposed to be twins, I said. Something about an unnatural dish.
Mom sighed and rotated to face me. It doesn’t matter how you came to be. What matters is that you did. You’re here. And I’m grateful every day.
The way she said it let me know she was saying the truth and it was something I should never forget.
Okay. So am I.
Good. She squeezed my knee and then rolled down the window. Put her head out.
Clare, get in the car! Now!
Clare waved to her friends and darted to the van. As she passed my window I gave her a wave too, but she didn’t even look at me.
* * *
Like every night after dinner, Clare goes to the basement. She always liked it down there. She and Adam. I used to go down sometimes to watch them play Super Mario Brothers and Mortal Kombat.
Now I hate it.
I stand at the top of the stairs. Debating. I can hear the Mario music and it makes me feel dizzy.
I’m holding the bannister Dad put in when Adam moved down there. It’s just for show. Dad had this thing with a light that was supposed to turn on and beep when it found a stud. But he dragged it over the entire wall and nothing. And then I dragged it over the entire wall and nothing. So Dad screwed the bannister in and told me not to rely on it.
I count the steps as I go (just for fun because I already know the answer). There are twelve steps down to the basement. There are fourteen steps on the main staircase. I haven’t counted the steps to the attic because I don’t need to know.
We’ll never go up to the attic in a blackout.
If a tornado is coming, we’ll go to the basement.
If there’s a blizzard, we’ll stay on the main floor and burn wood in the fireplace. (This will never happen. Schools are never closed for snow days. People would rather crash their cars than miss work.)
I think it’s good to be prepared. There’s a flashlight plugged into an outlet in the kitchen. There are boxes of matches in the drawer beside the sink. No one’s allowed to touch the crate of water bottles in the furnace room. Get a drink from the sink, you princess! I tell them. On a trip to Costco I made Mom buy a box of nonperishable food items to keep with the water.
Calgary’s safe from natural disasters, Mom told me. We’re inland so we’ll never have a tsunami or hurricane, and the mountains protect us from tornadoes.
What about the ones that hit Priddis? And Tornado ’87 from the song?
The ones in Priddis were small. We won’t get an F5 like Edmonton because of the mountains.
It could still happen.
Mom let out a sigh. Yes, anything could happen.
* * *
As I was saying, there are fourteen steps on the main staircase and only twelve here. Here the stairs are thin and steep and you have to wear socks because you can get a splinter. At the bottom the floor is cold uneven concrete. I step onto the path of rugs that lead to the couch. Take a deep breath.
Look up, Audrey. Be brave.
Clare doesn’t notice me. Adam turns his head in my direction and gives me his best lopsided grin.
My heart pinballs against my ribs.
He’s sitting with his hands behind his head and his legs stretched out onto the ottoman. Beside him Clare is completely absorbed in her game. In front of them is the large TV Adam bought. Mario is dodging fireballs on the screen.
Clare?
She jumps and looks at me, and a fireball hits Mario in the face. Burn.
What the hell? she yells. What are you doing down here?
I came to see you.
Her face scrunches like a paper ball. You haven’t come down here in months. The blue streak disappears as she turns to the wall. Look, she says, because that’s how she always starts sentences with me now. (Look, what do you want? Look, I’m busy.) I kind of like this being my space now.
I don’t know how to respond. I want to tell her to be happy I might come back to her school. I want to ask if she remembers when we used to be best friends. I want to tell her how much I miss being twins with her.
But I can’t get the words out.
Clare rolls her eyes and picks up the remote. Aims it at the TV. Mario is resurrected again, floating down from heaven in a bubble.
Look, I’m in the middle of a game, so unless you have something to say, leave me alone.
Adam smiles and pats a spot on the couch beside him.
I turn and go back up the stairs.
Mom and Dad are in the living room. They each have a glass of wine and the fire’s going so they want to be alone. I go upstairs to my room and close the door.
At first I was happy when Adam moved downstairs. I wanted my own room. In my own room I could do the things Clare made fun of me for doing. I’m too old to play with toys but I still do it sometimes. In secret. I take a bunch of toys that don’t belong together and act out a scene.
Now I miss sharing a room. It meant Clare had to talk to me.
At my desk I turn on the lamp and open my sketchbook. I like all breeds of dogs. I didn’t even want to buy an expensive breed because I’ve heard of puppy mills. I wanted a rescue dog. But Mom and Dad said no, so I started drawing the dog in the sky that belongs to everyone. Sirius the Dog Star is the fifth nearest star known to man.
The hardest part about drawing Sirius is that he needs a background or he’ll disappear. His fur is white and fluffy like a teddy bear. I like to bury my face in it and pry apart his puppy finger pads. He’s never scratched me. Not even once.
I tell Sirius the things I can’t tell anyone else. He’s my only friend now.