Ryan Diaz

Ian and I knew our parents were going to get divorced before they even realized it. They were fighting all the time, mom was always crying and dad was never at home. We got to be by ourselves most of the time and we learned how to take care of each other at our early age of 6. Those times Ian and I took the brother's thing to a whole other level. Before our parents started fighting, we were the ones always fighting.

I hated the fact that he looked just like me and he did too. We would cry whenever we wore the same clothes and bath wanted separate things. When the fights began, we started wearing the same clothes all the time, sharing everything together and behaving like the perfect twin brothers the world has ever seen. I guess we were doing it because somehow we blamed ourselves for the whole thing and figured if we behaved well and stopped fighting maybe they would to and love themselves like we loved them. Unfortunately it didn't work, it just got worst and worst and soon they were in court.

I think that was the hardest time in I and Ian's lives as we had to see our parents fight in the court like mad people, throwing words and insults at each other. The scene got so violent that they had to remove us from the court because we were both too little to understand what was going on. It was clear as day that our parents didn't love each other anymore.

We sat on the staircase in front of the court and I was busy bawling my eyes. I never thought I would get to see my mother hate my father that much, the scene kept replaying in my head. Ian moved closer to me, putting his hand around me and raising my head up. I looked at him and he smiled, using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe my face.

"Stop crying. You might fall sick and then I might fall sick too. I don't want to fall sick."

"Mom and dad are getting divorced Ian!" I screamed out, unable to stop the tears.

Ian wiped his eyes too, nodding and pretending that he wasn't crying. "I know but we're always going to be brothers no matter what."

I sniffled, "we might get separated."

"True," his voice cracked and he pulled his hand away from me to cover his eyes as he cried a little, then wiped it off like it never happened. "Promise me that wherever we go, we won't forget about each other."

"I promise and we can't, we're twins." Ian looked at the sky. "Whenever you forget me just shake yourself and it'll be like you're hand shaking me."

I used one hand to hold my other like a handshake, "like this?"

He did the same. "Yeah, like that."

Ian smiled, "I'd always put your happiness first Ryan." He beat his chest. "That's what older brother's do."

"You're older with just two minutes," I retorted then laughed.

"That old enough." He brings out a coin from his pocket. "Heads, I get dad. Tails, you get dad."

I pouted at the coin. "What if it's not up to us to choose?"

"Then at least we had fun dreaming."

I pouted again, "dad is cooler."

Ian chuckled, "wish me luck then."

Good luck.

The court process lasted a month and after that our parents got divorced and we got separated. I left with mom to Cuba and Ian stayed behind with Dad in Virginia.

Mom was originally from Cuba before she moved during her college days, met dad, got pregnant and got married because it's against her family's tradition to have a child outside (yeah, I found out this bits later on) and eventually got divorced when they couldn't stand each other anymore. During the first weeks, I cried and cried and mostly locked myself inside. I couldn't understand what everybody was saying and I missed my friends and Ian. Mom never spoke Spanish to us back at home and the only time you'd know she actually spoke Spanish was when she was arguing with dad and switched languages.

I don't think Mom cared about me those times, she was honestly more focused on the fact that she was done with her marriage. Thankfully my grandmother was just amazing and it's because of her I finally left my room, got to meet the rest of the family and starting learning how to speak Spanish fluently. I don't think Ian knew where I was, mom never revealed our destination and I tried to get out that island so many times and failed. One time I disappeared, abuela who I now call Tita, got a heart attack and that scared me shitless, I never tried to escape again. I rarely got lonely because we had a lot of family members, both distant and near cousins that were always around. I learned how to swim and surf so good that I joined competitions and actually won.

Mom left me in Cuba and traveled to England to further her education and I basically grew up under the watchful eyes of my Tita. She had other grandchildren but there was no doubt that I was her favorite.

"Tita, you'd love Ian. Maybe even more than me, he's way cooler," I was telling my grandma as she washed my hair. I was about ten years old now and Tita was my best friend.

"More than you," she shook her head. "I honestly doubt that."

I laughed. "He's just like me though. Everything about us is identical. Except, I have a birthmark on my hip. That's really the only difference, it was mind blowing and scary back then."

"I know, I saw the pictures," she pinched my cheeks in awe. "Honestly I was okay with your mother staying here but your abuelito, God bless his soul wasn't. He was so furious when your mama said she was pregnant. He was ready to get your dad arrested," she broke into a laughter. "Ay that man. Stubborn as a mule until his death." She sighed and I turned around to see her face. "He never got to see you boys. Promise me you'd bring your brother home when you're old enough, I want to see you both before I go."

"Ay, go where Tati, go where?" I grumbled, pouting at her. "Fine. I promise, but you're not going anywhere, promise?"

She smiled and sang out a, "promise."

Then I reached up and rubbed the foam on my hair on her face and ran off. Causing her to shriek and attack me with a string of strong Spanish words, throwing her shoes at me while I laughed and tried not to fall.

I stayed in Cuba until I was 13 years old, I stayed for seven years until my mother thought I had had enough and uprooted me to England with her as she got married again. My life basically fell apart again and I was convinced that my mother hated me. Why couldn't she just leave me to have my peaceful life with my Tati and my cousins that I had already become family with? It was like she was personally after my happiness and didn't want me to ever experience stability. Well, the reason she couldn't just leave me be was because her new husband wanted to meet me and get close to me... his stepson. It was crazy and unbelievable.

My mom's husband Wayne was actually a very good person and kind man, he was Scottish and his accent was hilarious but I hated him at first sight because was the reason why I had to leave Cuba. Again I stayed inside for weeks and I could hear my mom tell him to give me some time and that was how I usually was in a new place, I couldn't believe her. I was so angry, I was beginning to hate her. I started leaving my room and seeing around more even though I barely said two to Wayne. My mom and I argued all the time mostly in Spanish because she didn't want Wayne hearing everything.

Weeks turned into months and I was starting to get comfortable around the house and in my new school and it was all because Tita talked every day and she urged me to open up a little. In school I wanted to listen to everyone talk and weirdly they were the ones who wanted to listen to me talk. I got a girlfriend called Imogen and then we broke up and I got a boyfriend called Williams. It took 6 months before I started talking to Wayne like a civilized human being and that's because he'd always insist I follow him to soccer matches and baseball matches that I knew nothing about. So then I'd have to ask questions and he was the only one there to answer. Wayne and I got really close and he was the first person I told about Williams.

Williams and I got together because I liked his eyes and he asked me out, and I was lonely so I said 'fuck it' and we started dating. We only held hands and kissed our cheeks but apart from that we were like an normal boy friendship, hanging out all the time, playing games and even wrestling. Wayne said it was okay to be confused and I was still young, so I could just go with the flow. I didn't want to tell Tita because although she was my best friend, she was also my grandmother and very traditional. Wayne confessed that he has always wanted a son and when he learnt my mom had me, he got too excited for his own good. He apologized for turning my life upside down and after that I let him be my father... or step father.

"You know I'm a twin, right?" I asked him one day after a long day of playing PES together and me beating his ass so now he has to make us lunch. I was at the kitchen counter, watching him as he cooked.

"Aye your mom mentioned but she never talks about him. I don't even know his name," he said, stirring something in a pan.

I sighed. "I think mom has convinced herself that my dad and Ian don't exist. Like, it's so bad that it's starting to feel weird for me to even talk about them. Maybe they are just a figment of my imagination after all."

Wayne laughed. "I don't think they are. You've not talked to Ian?"

I shook my head. "I haven't heard from him since we got separated nearly eight years ago."

"Why not? You're both big lads now."

Why not?

The question repeated itself in my head and I wondered why Ian and I hadn't talked since we left. Back in Cuba, after my many failed attempts to escape, I guess I just resigned and gave up on ever speaking to him again. And I didn't have a phone, not my personal own. Tati and I shared the phone. Now that I got to UK I had my own personal phone but I guess it has never occurred to me to reach out. How do I even? I don't have his number and I don't have Facebook.

My face lit up in hope and excitement as I stared at Wayne's back. "Y-you think he'd remember me?"

Wayne turned to give me an incredulous. "Why won't he love? Do you remember him?"

"Yes, six years old him." I chuckled, running my hands through my hair. "What if we're not identical anymore? What if now he looks nothing like me?"

Wayne laughed. "Well, you won't find out if your arse remains rooted there now, would you?"

"Oh my gosh, Wayne!" I jumped off in excitement, going to grab my phone and open a Facebook account.

Do people even use Facebook anymore? If I didn't have one, what makes me think Ian would? Or maybe he has tried looking for me too? I curled myself on the sofa, my toes tingling as I searched for his name, last I remembered, his name was; Ian Peters. My last name was Peters too but mom changed it to her father's name back in Cuba.

Nothing came up. Or more precisely, many people came up, many people that weren't Ian. I groaned, feeling my excitement drain. He wasn't on Facebook after all. After beating myself up for thirty minutes, I didn't to search for my dad. He was old, so he might have Facebook.

Lucas Peters.

After searching through all the people that came up, I finally saw him. He looked different from what I remembered and he had white beards on his face. I scrolled through his profile and I saw one picture of me and him. Except it couldn't be me because the picture was taken a year ago and I was nowhere near Virginia a year ago.

"Wayne! Come see," I couldn't even sit still anymore and I was bouncing up and down as I laughed and fought tears at the same time. Ian still looked like me! Ian and I were still very much identical. The only difference was his haircut, the back was a buzz cut and the hair in front was curly and falling around and over his face. Mine was curls all through. I couldn't believe they were still in Virginia and I was finding it hard to believe they were real.

My dad had a number on his profile and with Wayne backing me up, I decided to call the number. When it rang my eyes nearly popped out of its sockets and while it rang, I was very sure my blood pressure reached the roof.

"Hello?" My dad picked, or a man, I wasn't sure. I didn't remember his voice anymore. I had no idea if it was actually him. I turned to Wayne with wide panicked eyes and he urged me to speak. "Hello?"

I cleared. "Hello, good day sir."

"Who am I speaking with? Is this actually a foreign number?"

"Yes sir," I bit my lips painfully. "Am I speaking to Lucas? Lucas Peters?"

I heard some ruffling. "Who is it?" He sounded more stern now so that had to be some kind of confirmation to my question.

'Make it light' Wayne mouthed to me, gesturing with his hands.

"Um, sorry, it's Ian's penpal and he once gave me this number to reach him. Sorry I don't mean to be an inconvenience, I just want to speak to Ian." I rushed out, trying to sound 'lighter'.

He cleared his throat and the next thing I heard was a scream of  "Ian!" I had to move the phone away from my ear so I don't go deaf. I heard him answer from a distance and my heart started pounding.

"Someone wants to speak to you," I heard my dad say.

"Why call you and not me?" I heard Ian ask and my hand went to cover my mouth because he sounded exactly like me too. My eyes widen and I put the phone on speaker for Wayne too.

"That's what I was about to ask. Why give your penpal my phone number?"

"Penpal? What penpal?"

He must have shrugged. "The guy said he's your penpal."

"The fuck is a penpal?" I almost laughed at that question. It was like I was listening to a recording of myself.

"Take the phone son."

"Tch, you've probably given your number to a weirdo again," Ian said sounding closer, he must have the phone now. I mentally prepared myself to talk.

"You'll probably regret saying that. They can hear you."

"Hello?" Ian asked, now talking to me. He sounded irritated. I mentally had a lot of things to say but then my tongue went dry. "Hello?"

I panicked and threw the phone to Wayne, pulling my hair back and letting myself breathe.

"Dad, see? You got played!" Ian said, then screamed into the phone. "Hello? I'm hanging up now!."

I grabbed the phone back. "Ian!"

The line went silent on both ends and I could hear both our breathe.

"The fuck?"