Twice the Love to Give

“Lucy!” was the first thing I heard out of the speaker when I rang the buzzer for unit 304. “Why didn't you text me when you got to the station? I would've picked you up.”

I smiled. Just like Bekah to try to plan someone else's trip. “My phone died,” I told her. “Let me up.

A long pause. Had she even heard me through my mask? I reached for the button again when the elevator doors opened and a tall, blonde woman in a loose tank top and jeans emerged and opened the door to the building for me.

“You didn't have to- oh, hi-" I managed before my friend wrapped her arms around me in a huge embrace.

“Did you take the tube all the way here? Oh, honey, I wish I'd known!”

“It wasn't that bad,” I assured her, rolling my suitcase along into the building and up the elevator to the third floor.

“Well, I got a car for a reason, which was so I would never have to hear some stinky teenager on the tube tell me that twins are hot ever again,” she said as she opened the door to her apartment. The small place was clean, but cramped, of course, because it was London and anything bigger than a shoebox would cost more to live in for a month than a plane ticket to Mars.

I set my bag down on a patch of open space by the sofa before lying down on it, lifting my tired feet into the air. “This is mine, right?” I asked. Bekah put a hand on her chest.

“Lucy, I'm not letting you sleep on the couch. You can have one of my beds. I can sleep on the couch.”

“Don't worry about it,” I started, but she hushed me with a finger.

“I insist. Or I can curl up into one bed with myself. Come on.”

“Fine,” I relented. “Speaking of which, where’s your other half?”

“At the store,” she sighed. “I'm sorry, I wanted to be complete when you arrived, but I didn't know you were already in the city. I had to run some errands, and I ran out of time, and… ugh.” She trailed off.

“Bek, it's fine,” I said, using her nickname from when we were kids. “You're here. We're together.”

She smiled at that and circled the couch to hug me again. “I know! I missed you so much! I’ve been wondering how these masks have been treating you,” she said as she pulled playfully at the straps around my ears. I smiled and pulled them off, revealing my mouths, one above the other, breathing freely for the first time all day.

“Well, you know how much I like showing these off, but I'll admit it's been nice having people look me in the eyes for once.”

She grinned, and then paused a few seconds, staring into the wall. I was about to ask her if she was okay when she suddenly snapped out of it. “Oh, I remember, I forgot to offer you tea.”

“I- sure, but what about what I said reminded you of tea?”

“Hm? Oh, I'm walking past the tea aisle.” Another pause, then “what kind of milk would you like?”

I tilted my head. “From the store or for the tea?”

“Both, I suppose. If you're staying for a few days for these job interviews the least I can do is buy you milk.” She was speaking towards me but wasn't making eye contact. It was like she was looking at something else, which of course she must have been.

I shrugged. “Whatever is fine for the tea. If they have soy milk at the store I'll have some.”

She nodded and started pouring from the kettle. A few minutes and a little more small talk later she handed me a cup and sat down next to me on the sofa. I passed the drink between both my mouths, trying to wet all of my lips. She sipped hers and watched me with a smile.

“I had almost forgotten how you do that,” she said, before another pause and space-out. “They’re out of the plain soy one. Do you want the vanilla?”

“Sure,” I said while taking another sip. I’d learned long ago to use my lower mouth to talk while drinking. If I did it the other way my upper jaw would move my lower lips around and make the drink spill. “These job interviews have me stressed, though,” I continued. “I never told them over the phone about my face. But, if they’d hire me with one mouth they’d hire me with two, right?” I asked, trying to be optimistic.

“No,” she said abruptly, staring right at me. I looked at her, shocked.

“That’s… wow, that’s kind of tough to hear,” I admitted. I knew my mouths were off-putting to some people, but I was proud of them. I was about to say something else when she cut me off again.

“Wait. Oh my God. Hang on.” She put a hand on mine, and closed her eyes for a second before opening them again. “Lucy! I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant! You asked me that literally right while the clerk asked me if I wanted a copy of the receipt.”

I sighed in relief and let out a chuckle. “It’s-” was all I could say before she scooped me up in another hug, pressing my face to her chest.

“I said ‘your mouths are gorgeous’ to the clerk. She looked at me like I had two heads,” she said, tightening her hug before adding, “which I do, but not like- oh, Lucy, I’m sorry! You’re beautiful. And yes, they’ll hire you no matter how many lips you have.  OK?”

I was too smothered by Rebekah’s chest to say anything, really, so I just hugged her back. Being held by a woman for the first time in months, though, I was honestly happy she was so huggy. Of course, Bekah was as straight as an arrow, as far as I knew.

She released me, and relaxed back against the couch, closing her eyes. “This is why I don’t separate very often. It’s so taxing,” she said, holding her cup in her hands, taking an almost meditative pose. “Just give me a second. I’m driving.”

I sat there with her for a few more minutes, watching her limbs twitch in sync with her other self. Her left hand started to move, mimicking a gear shift. Her feet just nudging each other ever so slightly. Eventually she smiled, eyes still closed, and spoke up. “We can still talk, Lucy. I just need to make sure I’m only looking at the road.”

“It’s fine,” I said, finishing off my tea, watching her move. “Why don’t you just tell me what you see?” she grinned at that, too. I knew she was proud of her abilities.

“There’s some teens going home from school,” she began. “A garden with some nice flowers. I’m passing the park, I should be home soon.”

“What else?”

“Well, there’s some ass who thinks driving a Porsche means he can weave in and out of traffic,” she said, her face contorting in disdain before she began concentrating again. Finally after a few minutes she opened her eyes and sighed in relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“Do you need help?” I asked, starting to rise from the sofa, but she sat me back down with a gesture.

“I always have help,” she said with a smirk, opening the door to reveal a woman identical to herself in almost every way, but wearing a spring dress and carrying a bundle of shopping bags. After so long apart I hadn’t recognized it, but I realized then that up to this point Bekah had been uncomfortable. She must have been splitting her concentration this whole time, but the moment her two faces made eye contact, she seemed to relax.

Wordlessly, effortlessly, she gave one set of bags to the woman who had been here, and both of them entered the cooking area, which I could see from the sofa, and began to prepare dinner. Again I started to get up to help her, but the woman who had just entered just put her hand on my shoulder and shook her head with a smile. “I said I already have help.”

Watching Rebekah, all of Rebekah, move, is a ballet of coordination and an absolute treat to watch. Putting it into words is impossible. I can’t do it justice. I’ll do my best.

Without any hesitation, both Rebekahs were at the sink, washing her hands. Bekah in the dress pumped soap into the waiting hands of her body in the shirt, and once she finished she split up, unpacking the bags and taking pots and cookware out of the cabinets at the same time. With the dressed body she scrubbed the vegetables and passed them to her shirted self which started to chop them up. Once the veggies were clean, the shirted girl stopped cutting, mid-carrot, while the dressed girl dried her hands, and then that one took the knife and vegetables that were put down and continued cutting the same carrot. They never got in each other’s way. The girl in the dress turned her hips just enough, and just in time, to let the girl in the shirt pass behind her, without even a glance.

The girl in the shirt started boiling water on the stove and unpackaging the meat, beginning to cook it on the stovetop, and then just put her hand out behind her without looking, and a second later the one in the dress, who had just finished with the vegetables, put some seasoning jars in her waiting hand, and looked around the kitchen one more time before walking to the couch.

“I think I can take care of the rest with just two hands,” she said as she collapsed onto the sofa beside me. I was still a little bit stunned by the display of cooking, which I had seen many times but was certain I’d never get used to. My brain felt like there was a completely new person I hadn’t seen all day. Of course, there wasn’t.

As if in response to what I was thinking, her dressed body put her feet up on her table and spoke again, putting an arm around my shoulder as her other body finished up the cooking. “I know the interviews are scary, but you’re clever and you have loads of experience. I’m sure they’ll realize that.”

She gave me a squeeze, and I heard her footsteps behind me as well, as her other half emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “And if you’re really worried,” she said with her body in the shirt, “you can always leave the mask on.”

I gave her a smile, but I was still nervous about the interviews. She must have sensed it, since she scooted in from across the sofa to wrap me up in yet another hug, this time with both of her, with her dressed body reaching across the sofa and the one in the shirt leaning over the backrest. I could feel her breath in two different places on my neck, and my face grew hot. That, though, she either didn’t notice, or pretended not to.