He lives in the city. He lives on a farm. They never talk. How could they?
She sees them around, trying to get to know them. Farm to City. She senses two distinct personalities, no doubt, although it would seem the lesser of the two wants to break free. However, Farm’s unconditional love keeps him occupied. City knows that. Farm wears denial like a comfortable blanket.
Farm seems to care for her, which makes her uncomfortable, what with him being twins. He is handsome, of course, she cannot deny that. He makes her heart flutter. So does City.
Farm never goes outside his property limits, whereas City keeps to his apartment. City’s knowledge of Farm-life seems astonishing, like he could have been the farmer instead. Farm seldom leaves his room unless called for supper, busily going at his computers. Satisfied with his life and tied separation. When she comes for a visit, he never leaves her side, though. He seems to have no other purpose than being by her side.
One evening, she mentioned having dinner with the both of them, seeming they needed closure as brothers. Farm almost exploded with anger; he felt betrayed. He felt that he could not share her with anyone, let alone his brother. City did not object nor did he accept. He stayed locked in his apartment, quiet.
Two identical swings, attached to a thick branch overhead, gently eases its way back and forth, the wind maintaining its constant movement. Farm sits astride one, looking at the other. There is tears running down his cheeks, his shoulders twitching every so often. She kneels in front of him, places her head on his lap, and strokes his leg.
“He has to leave,” he says.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“I can’t expect you to live with the both of us,” he says, swallowing against sobs. His face is expressionless as he plays with her hair. In the distance, a headstone blinks in the sun.
“Can I talk to him one last time?” she asks.
He flinched. She smiled through tears.
“I thought you would want to say goodbye, love,” he says, combing through her hair. She cries, holding onto him. “I’m sorry I died, but it’s just natural to go on with the process than staying here, caged as a bird. You two will learn to move on without me. You’ll see.”
“Will we ever see you again?” she asks.
“Someday . . . “