On December 19, 1964 Emily Linus gives birth to a baby boy – not on a road side, no need for rescue, but in a hospital. Her husband Roger stands by her side, holds her hand and looks far more terrified than anyone else in the room.
Two minutes later Emily Linus gives birth to a second son.
Emily holds the babies, looks at the one and says, "Let's call him Benjamin." She turns to her husband. "What do you think?"
Roger does not look at her but stares at the other baby. "And what about him?"
"Ben's little brother?"
Roger smiles. "Not much littler." He looks up at his wife. "Harold?"
Emily smiles. "Baby Benny and baby Harry?" They both smile. Emily looks back down at her babies. "Benjamin and Harold, welcome to the family."
The babies stare up at their parents, quiet and new and the fingers of their small hands touching as if they do not understand being apart.
(In another life both boys grow up without mothers and eventually lose their fathers despite the fact they are alive).
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Ben stands on his own and walks across the room the day he turns one year old.
He and Harold play on the carpet in the living room while Emily washes dishes in the kitchen, keeping her eye on them over the peekaboo. Ben reaches for a toy – a squeaky polar bear – then grips the chair beside them and stands up. He takes a step, another, then carries his polar bear across the room toward the kitchen. Emily glances into the other room, sees just one baby where once there were two, then sees Ben.
"Roger!" She shouts as she shatters a dish on the kitchen floor. "He's walking!" Emily runs across the linoleum and stops just at the edge as Ben toddles closer. "Oh my baby, come on!" She grins, holding out her hands. "Roger! Get the camera!"
Ben reaches the linoleum and holds up his polar bear to his mother. She takes the toy and Ben sits down at the edge of the carpet. He shifts his baby legs and looks back at his brother.
"Good job, Ben!" Emily coos as she puts the toy down beside him. "You walked! Good job!"
Ben watches Harold, quiet and still. Harold looks back then tips himself forward, hands on the floor and pushes his feet beneath himself.
"Emily, what is it?" Roger says as he comes into the kitchen. "Why were you shouting? I was –"
"Ben walked!" She exclaims. "He walked right over here!"
Harold knocks himself back against the chair for support as he stands himself up with a wobble. Ben makes a small exclamation and smiles. Harold takes one step forward, two, then walks his way across the carpet.
Roger starts to say something to his wife then grips her shoulder. "Harold!"
"What?" She turns and sees Harold on his feet. "He's… No! I can't believe…"
She trails off as Harold walks slowly over the carpet then sits down again right in front of Ben.
"At the same time?" Roger says in confusion.
"It's their birthday," Emily replies as if that could explain it.
Ben squeals in joy, fingers gripping the polar bear and tapping Harold's knee. Harold squeals back, claps his hands over Ben's and grins.
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Ben stares up at a tree in their backyard. The leaves blow in the wind, spots of light blinking on and off with the motion of the leaves. He sees a birds nest appear and disappear.
"Empty," Harold says.
"No," Ben replies.
Harold laughs and points to the right. Ben looks and sees a bird sitting on a branch. He turns and looks at Harold. Harold smiles back at him.
"What are you two looking at?" Their mother asks, suddenly crouched behind them.
The twins point together at the bird on the branch.
"Ah." She smiles and touches their shoulders. "Do you know the name of that bird?" They both look at her and say nothing. She smiles again. "It's a Robin."
"Robin," Ben says and Harold echoes a second later.
"All the birds have names, just like you." Their mother smiles and stands up straight again as she turns away.
Ben looks back up at the tree, the Robin turning its head then suddenly taking off.
"Two?" Ben asks. "For the nest?"
"Maybe."
Ben makes a small noise. "There has to be."
"Maybe," Harold repeats.
Ben looks over at him. "A mom and a dad Robin."
Harold laughs and he plops down onto the ground. "Maybe not yet."
Ben drops down beside Harold and keeps watching the tree, the light changing, the leaves moving. He watches the sun shine on the brown twigs expertly stitched together to make the bird nest. He frowns and looks at Harold seated beside him. Harold's eyes tick to Ben.
"There has to be two," Ben says.
"Or else why make the nest," Harold finishes.
They smile at the same time then laugh together. Ben nudges Harold with his shoulder and Harold pushes Ben back. Harold jumps up and runs, Ben a second behind chasing him. They circle around the yard, run around the tree laughing and laughing, catching each other and starting all over again. When they finally collapse into a giggling pile of brown hair and small limbs on the grass the two Robins are sitting together on the branch.
"They match," Ben says quietly.
"Like us," Harold replies.
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Ben and Harold spend every moment together, every minute, every second so every memory is the same.
They follow each other around the house, Ben trailing Harold to the study and Harold just behind Ben toward the back yard; they walk through doors together, always in the same room. They crawl into each other's bed at night, Tuesdays in Harold's and Fridays in Ben's. When Harold gets sick, Ben is coughing an hour later. When Ben gets a snack, Harold eats half.
They build blanket forts off the back of the couch, two chairs, and six blankets with five pillows inside.
"When we grow up, we should have a moat around our house to protect us from everyone else," Harold says.
"Or an electric fence, to be sure," Ben counters. "What if they could swim?"
In school they sneak out of class to find each other, read books sitting on the floor in the library until they are caught. Kindergarten into first grade into second and maybe they do have to spend some time apart but in class along when Harold thinks about Winnie the Pooh, the odd bear and his honey, Ben is thinking about Rabbit and his carrots. They walk as far as they can together in the mornings before they have to go to different classrooms then reunite as soon as the bell rings at the end of the day.
"What if we have to live apart one day?" Harold asks.
"We won't," Ben replies.
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Harold sits on the floor of their bedroom with a box of Legos and a half built tower in front of him. He touches the side of his glasses then picks up a small red piece. Harold's eyes coast over the construction – four rows of the three inch long pieces as the base so far; he could tapper as the building rises or keep a solid, straight form? Does he want to change the design maybe, add an arm out of the side like a crane?
"You're not building the Empire state Building," Ben says.
Harold glances over his shoulder slightly where Ben sits with his back against Harold's. "I could."
"But do you want to?"
Harold looks back at his half constructed tower – a wide base and then a second inner level and maybe a third not just straight up. "No."
"Make it different."
"Varied design."
Harold feels Ben smile against his back and Ben turns a page in his book. Ben reads quickly, Piggy wore the remainders of a pair of shorts, his fat body was golden brown, and the glasses still flashed when he looked at anything. Ben touches the side of his glasses, and imagines himself as Ralph, making fire and hunting beasts and boys at his command.
"'The Lord of the Flies,'" Harold says.
"You can read it next."
"You read too fast." Ben's eyes tick up from the page and he looks at his bed against the wall. "You'll miss things."
Ben turns his head slightly to look at Harold's shoulder. "I don't miss anything."
"No?"
"Do you?"
"No."
They laugh once. Ben turns back to his book and turns a page, slides his fingers over the soft paper. The words flow over him and he thinks of jungle and danger and no adults.
"You'll finish it today," Harold says
"So will you," Ben replies.
"I'll call it twin tower."
Ben giggles and drags his thumb over the edges of the book, flipping pages quickly. "Would we each get our own room?"
"Why?"
Ben bites the edge of his lip and smiles. "You're right."
Harold and Ben both adjust their glasses higher up on their noses at the same time.
Ben taps the back of his head lightly against Harold's and reads, Ralph turned and smiles involuntarily. Piggy was a bore. Then Ben looks up again, looks at the white walls of their room and the small shelf above his bed with a row of books across it, a brass bookend shaped like a palm tree.
"What would we do if we were stranded on an island?" Ben asks.
Harold pauses with a Lego in his hand, looks at the white walls of their room and the small shelf above his bed with a row of books across it, a brass bookend shaped like a nautilus.
"Just us?" Harold asks.
"Just us," Ben says.
Harold puts the Lego down; Ben closes his book.
"We'd be happy," they say.
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Ben and Harold play in the backyard. It is colder, autumn, but neither of them seems to notice despite not wearing any jackets.
"Be careful up there!" Their mother shouts out the backdoor as she closes it. "Don't make me regret letting you two do this."
"We will!" Ben and Harold shout back from where they sit in the tree.
"Dad could help us," Ben says.
"He wouldn't," Harold counters.
Ben nods as he unfolds the piece of paper with Harold's plan. "So the floor is the first part." He taps the page with one finger.
"Of course, have to have the floor first for a tree house."
"Really have to have a tree first."
Harold looks up at Ben and smiles. "Or a seed?"
Ben laughs once. "Or dirt?"
Harold laughs too. "Okay, so…" Harold places the plank of wood they pulled up with them into the V created by the tree limbs with just a bit of difficulty.
"I'll do this end you do that one," Ben says as he rolls up the paper again and stuffs it into his back pocket.
"Two nails each side; make sure they are all the way down." Harold hands one hammer to Ben and Ben hands him back two nails.
"Don't drop any of it."
"Don't you."
They turn away from each other to their separate ends of the plank, balancing their feet on the tree branches around them.
"We should start at the same time," Ben says.
"Opposite corners so it doesn't flip or shift."
Ben chuckles. "Genius."
"Yep."
They count, "one, two, three" then begin hammering a nail each into opposite corners of the plank of wood. They hammer until their nails are flush with the plank and deep into the wood of the tree. Both boys turn back and look at the other. They nod once then turn back again to hammer in the second nails into the other corners. They hit the nails ten times then stop.
"We should stand on it first," Ben says.
"To test it," Harold finishes.
They turn around on the branches slowly, Harold breaking off a small twig in the process. Ben raises his eyebrows at Harold but says nothing. They look down at the plank between them. Ben taps it gently with his left foot. It does not move. He looks up at Harold. "So?"
Harold nods his chin at Ben. "Go on."
"You go on."
Harold laughs. "Together."
Harold reaches out and takes Ben's free hand. Ben squeezes Harold's hand and they both step off their tree branches onto the plank of wood. They hold their breath for three seconds then let it out with amused relief when neither they nor the plank goes crashing to the ground.
"We did it!" Harold says.
"Not done yet. One plank is not a tree house."
"It's a tree plank."
"A tree stand."
Ben and Harold laugh together then Ben hands his hammer to Harold. He takes a step to the middle of the plank then turns, one hand braced against the tree trunk, and reaches backward with his foot to find the ladder.
"We can fit another plank in this space then one around the other side," Harold says, motioning with his hand around the tree. "We should then put some planks underneath to brace it before we expand out from the tree. Don't want it falling down."
"I read your plan," Ben says as he gets his one foot on the ladder. "Don't worry." He then moves his other foot off the plank. "We might need more wood though." Then he slips.
"Ben!" Harold shouts and tries to grab onto to Ben's arm.
Ben falls backward, Harold's hand missing him, staring up at his twin in surprise. Ben's feet knock the ladder to the left as he falls. Then two seconds later Ben hits the ground with a crunch and both twins scream in pain. Ben clutches his arm with his other hand, moaning and tears running down his face, flat on his back on the grass. Harold holds the same arm still up in the tree and bites his teeth together to keep from crying out as well.
"Mom!" They both shout.
The backdoor swings open a moment later and their mother runs toward Ben on the ground. "Ben! What happened?" She looks up at Harold who has tears down his cheeks now too. "Harold?" She looks down at Ben again, brushing hair out of his face. "What happened?"
"Harold…" Ben says as he looks up at Harold.
Harold swallows and squeezes his fingers over his arm. "Ben…"
"Did you fall?" Their mother asks Ben.
"I missed the step," Ben says through the tears, pointing with his uninjured arm toward the fallen ladder beside the base of the tree.
Their mother touches his arm and Ben hisses in pain. "Oh my god, Roger!" She shifts Ben up carefully against her. "Oh my… I think it may be broken, Ben, dear. Roger, get out here!" She looks up at the tree again. "Harold, are you all right?"
"It hurts," Harold says, still cradling his arm.
She frowns. "Did you… did something hit you?"
"No."
"Then you're fine?"
"No, Ben fell!" Harold insists as he scrunches his eyes closed.
"Yes, Ben fell, not you, Harold. What is wrong?"
"What I said; Ben fell!" Harold insists, sniffles, rubs his hand over his arm. "It hurt me too!"
Their mother only stares up at Harold.
"Emily?" Roger calls from inside.
"Out here!" She turns toward the back door of the house. "The boys are…" She glances back up at Harold again then down at Ben. She turns back to the house. "Ben is hurt!"
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Harold and Ben sit on top of the work bench in their family's garage as they watch their father work on an old Ford pickup truck. The family's station wagon is parked out in the drive way and it is the car they use on most occasions to actually get anywhere. Their father bought the truck used to begin with and, as their mother tells it, it only ran for two years before breaking down for good. For some reason their father kept the car and fiddles with it now and then, takes out pieces, tightens bolts, adds oil and overall does not really change much. Ben thinks it mostly takes up space in the garage. Harold thinks their father just wants to play at being a mechanic.
"One day you boys will learn how to fix cars like this."
"By not fixing them?" Ben says so their father cannot hear.
Harold smiles.
Their father peeks out from under the hood for a moment. "It's an important skill." He disappears back under the gray-brown hood. "You two should both learn this."
"I've read about it," Ben says.
"I've tried it," Harold says.
They look over at each other then back to their father, their legs swinging in time together off the edge of the bench. Their father does not appear to have heard them. A minute later, he stands up straight and wipes his hands off on a rag though the rag appears dirtier than his hands. He blows out a breath then looks at his watch.
"Shit." He toss the rag to the side, glances at the boys then bites his teeth together. "I mean…" He shakes his head. "Late for that inter…" He grumbles then rushes past them and through the door into the house.
Ben and Harold look at the door way. They hear their father yelling something to their mother about 'time' and 'have to go now.' She yells something back about 'but groceries' and 'if you want to starve.' A minute later both their parents come out through the garage door.
"We have to go out for a few hours," their mother says as the pair rush by. She turns and walks backwards a few steps as their father unlocks the car door of the station wagon. "I'm trusting you boys to be good while we're out."
"We will," they say together.
"Just don't burn the house down!" Their father snaps as he closes the driver side door.
Their mother waves once then gets into the passenger seat as their father starts the car. Then the car pulls out and drives away down the street into the sunlight. Harold turns left to Ben beside him. Ben raises his eyebrows back at Harold. Harold's eyes tick to the trunk with its hood still open. He jumps down off the bench and walks around to the front of the car, rising up to his tip toes to see inside to the engine.
"You could fix it."
Harold shifts back onto his heels and looks at Ben. "Why?"
"Why not?"
Harold clicks his teeth then looks at the truck again. "I would need new parts to fix it."
"Hmm." Ben rocks his head from side to side for a moment. "Can't fix it without them?"
"No." Harold crosses his arms with a thoughtful expression on his face. "But…"
When their mother and father arrive home several hours later the entire engine of the truck sits in pieces lined up carefully in rows and columns on the concrete in front of the truck. Their mother walks up cautiously to the engine pieces with a bag of groceries in her arms. She frowns and looks up at Harold standing on one side of the truck then to Ben on the other. Their father stares in shock, his face growing red.
"What's this?" Their mother says at the same time their father yells. "What the hell did you do?"
Their mother looks sharply at their father and the twins stiffen in surprise. Their father stares at them for a moment then points at the engine parts with his hand holding the car keys. "What the hell did you do?"
"I wanted to…" Harold starts.
"I took it apart," Ben cuts off Harold, side stepping over next to him.
"What?" Their father snaps.
"I took it apart."
"You took the whole engine apart?" Their mother asks looking impressed.
"Well…" Ben glances at Harold quickly.
"You took it apart?" Their father says with a far different tone than their mother.
"I thought," Ben says, his voice getting quieter as he speaks, "since you were always fiddling with it, why not start from the beginning?"
"You don't take an engine apart!" Their father shouts and walks closer. "How in the hell am I going to put the whole thing back together?"
"I can put it back together!" Harold insists suddenly.
Ben looks sharply at Harold then they both look at their mother. She is smiling. Their father makes a loud angry huff that sounds more like a growl.
"This is unbelievable." He points at Harold. "You can't do something like this!"
Harold looks down at the engine parts then up again at their father. "If they don't want you to get in they should build it better."
Their father just stares at Harold.
"I think it's wonderful, dear," their mother says to Harold.
He grins with pride at her as Ben smiles at Harold.
"No one asked you!" Their father shouts at their mother. Then he points at the boys. "You are both grounded!" Then he turns and stalks into the house.
The three of them still standing outside watch the front door for a moment then the boys turn to look at their mother. Her expression is troubled. Then she turns to them and her smile appears.
"It's all right, boys. That was a very clever thing you did, Harold, though you should not have done it nor you let him, Ben." They both nod dejectedly. Their mother smiles again then leans closer and whispers. "I'm proud of you."
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Ben and Harold sit side by side at the breakfast table on a Wednesday morning. Harold has a bowl of cheerios in front of him and Ben has a bowl of raisin bran. Ben's glass of orange juice is only half full and Harold's glass is empty. Neither of them are eating anymore.
Across the table and through the doorway in the kitchen their parents shout at each other.
"You've only worked there for four months!"
"It's a shit job anyway, why should I care if they fire me?"
"Because of us you should care!" Their mother spreads her arms wide indicating the room. "We need money to live!"
"I can get another job; I don't need you to tell me about money!"
"Oh yes, another job, another you'll just lose in four months, again?" Their mother stops and breathes in deeply. "I just mean that you can't keep stopping and starting like this."
"I am not doing that, its…"
"It's frightening," She hisses. "We need stability. Everyone has to work, Roger, you're not special. You don't get a pass because you think you're better somehow."
"I am better than selling radios and televisions."
"There's nothing wrong with that if it makes you –"
"I should be owning the store not –"
She huffs. "I don't know how you would do as a manager –"
"Shut the hell up, Emily!"
Their mother throws her hands up then turns to the sink, putting her hands on the edge and leaning over. She shakes her head and taps her foot. Behind her their father paces back and forth across the linoleum. He keeps shooting looks at her back each time he passes by as if she could still see him.
"You have no right to say anything," he mutters. "I don't see you earning money for this family so you can't be bitching at me."
Suddenly their mother whirls around. "Oh? Oh really? Well maybe I'll go get a job then if you can't be bothered to support your family!"
"Don't be stupid."
"Oh yes, because women never work."
"You don't have to get sarcastic, you know what I meant!" He waves an angry hand at her
"What else can I do because you won't listen to me?" She huffs and breathes heavily for a moment. Then she runs a hand over her face. "Roger, please, you need a stable job. Something we can live on all the time."
"Enough, Emily."
"Roger, I don't want to have to keep worrying that you're suddenly going to be unemployed again and I have to pick money out of the air."
"I said, enough!"
Their mother fists her hands in her hair and whispers. "I just can't believe you were fired again."
"I said I will get a new job if you would just get the hell off my back!" Their father shouts right in her face.
Their mother does not back down. "I am just trying to help you, all right?" She clenches her jaw. "Maybe you need a push."
Their father frowns deeply then turns out of her personal space and walks away, out of sight of the doorway. "Maybe one day I won't, Emily, and we can all die in the street together."
"You're being ridiculous!"
"You're being a bitch!"
In the other room, seated at the table, Ben and Harold hold hands tightly under the table.
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Their parents take Ben and Harold to Seattle. They had planned on Portland, closer to home, they could visit the zoo. However, at the last minute, they decided on Seattle instead. They visit Pike Place Market - all the food stands, small specialty shops and the men throwing fish. Their mother buys green tea and lets the boy pick out fresh fruit. Their father buys some fish and catches it in the air from the salesman after they wrap it up in paper.
"Can we throw the fish?" Harold asks.
"No," their father says.
"You got to throw it," Ben insists.
"No, I caught it."
Their mother buys a pair of handmade earrings, deep red so they easily show in her blond hair. Their father buys an overpriced bottle of whiskey, fancy label hidden by a brown bag. Harold and Ben buy a hardback copy of 'Treasure Island' and take turns holding the bag.
The four of them take an elevator to the top of the space needle to see Seattle from above. Harold and Ben lean against the glass looking out and down and everywhere around them. Harold plots angles from the glass to the ground, an arc from the top to the water, calculates distance to the buildings below.
"How long did it take to build this?" he asks.
Ben estimates people in each building, people in the city, imagines how far the boats have come to get to this harbor.
"Where do the boats go?"
Their mother stands beside Ben as they look out over the city while their father stands on the other end beside Harold. Both boys notice how their parents do not touch the entire trip.
Back on solid ground they walk down to Elliott Bay. Their mother buys them ice cream and talks about museums they could visit.
"There is the art museum," their mother says from beside Harold.
"Doubt they'd want to see that," their father says from beside Ben.
"Or the Museum of Flight?"
Their father makes a noncommittal noise.
Ben and Harold, however, look out at the Puget Sound beside them as they walk; sea air and gentle waves and sail boats. Ben imagines captaining a ship, his hands on the helm and Harold imagines navigating, leading the two of them to their own oasis. They look at each other, hands entwined, and feel the ocean calling though neither one knows why.
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At school Ben and Harold are always in different classes. The twins suppose that siblings are always split up or perhaps twins in a classroom together would be too much for the teachers or perhaps there is no reason at all.
Harold sits in the back, quiet and attentive though he spends time doodling projects of his own – a reconstruction of the truck engine or rudimentary object oriented programing. He creates math problems for himself, finishes the class text book months ahead of time and steals ones from other classrooms, practices geometry and trigonometry. He builds a creation in his mind, a playmate made of numbers and code and the universe.
Ben sits in the middle of every class room, students on every side of him, whispers answers to questions, tests the waters to see who believes him or not. He loves science, doodles double helixes in his notebook and gene maps the dominant and recessive traits from his parents. He builds a living jungle in his mind, vines and rain and the power of earth in his hands.
"You should take Latin someday," Harold says, "could help with those scientific names."
"Everyone should take Latin someday." Ben smiles.
They switch places for one day. Ben says no one will notice; they can be each other perfectly. They wear matching blue shirts, buttoned up except for the one at the very top, with khaki pants.
Mrs. Roth calls on Harold. "Ben, what type of bird is this?"
Harold smiles. "Bald Eagle."
"Very good, Ben."
Mr. Parks calls on Ben. "Harold, what is three hundred divided by six."
Ben smiles. "Fifty."
"Very good, Harold."
A boy beside Harold whispers to him while the teacher talks about George Washington, asks about recess and kickball and can Ben do the science paper for him? Harold breathes, wraps himself in Ben and only gives the boy a look with raised eyebrows.
A girl beside Ben passes a note onto his desk. Ben opens it in his lap, sees 'Harold + Jessica' with hearts at the edges. Ben folds it up again quickly, sees her smiling at him out of the corner of his eye. Ben breathes, wraps himself in Harold and looks at her with a soft smile on his face.
No one catches them in the act, neither one fails to respond to the wrong name, no one notices a difference all day.
They arrive home together, smiling and still giggling to each other about their trick.
"Ben," their mother says to Harold as they walk in the door. "Could you set the…" She stops and stares at the boys standing side by side with their back packs still on. She blinks, looks at Harold then Ben then back to Harold. "Oh, Harold. I am so sorry, Harold." She clears her throat and looks at Ben. "Ben, could you set the table, please?"
Ben and Harold glance at each other, smile wider and wonder, if they ever wanted to, how easy would it be to switch for good?
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Harold and Ben lie side by side on a blanket in the backyard, the night sky and stars above them. Ben holds 'Treasure Island' above the two of them while Harold, lying on his side, holds a flashlight, shining its light on the page.
"There were several additions of a later date," Ben reads, "but above all, three crosses of red ink-two on the north part of the island, one in the southwest-and beside this last, in the same red ink, and in a small, neat hand, very different from the captain's tottery characters, these words: Bulk of treasure here." Ben stops reading and turns his head to Harold. "Do you want to read?" Ben asks.
"I like listening to you read," Harold says.
"It sounds the same."
Harold laughs. "No, it doesn't."
"No."
Inside the house something makes a crashing noise. Ben and Harold stiffen, both dropping their hands, Harold clicking off the light. They hear their mother shout something but they cannot make out specific words. Their father walks by a window for a moment, waving his hands then is gone. Harold and Ben look at each other again and Harold clicks the flashlight back on. Ben opens the book.
"Over on the back the same hand had written this further information: Tall tree, Spy-glass shoulder, bearing a point to the N. of N.N.E." Ben stops and looks at Harold. "What would we do with buried treasure?"
Harold laughs. "Guard it?"
"If we were pirates."
Harold shrugs. "I think you'd be a better pirate than me."
Ben looks up at the starry sky over the edge of the book. "If I were a pirate then what would you be?"
"A captain in the royal navy."
Ben frowns. "But you'd have to chase me then and arrest me."
Harold shakes his head. "I'd let you go."
"But we wouldn't be able to sail together then."
"So let's not sail. We can stay on land."
Ben clicks his teeth. "What we would do on land then, with our treasure?"
"How do we have the treasure if we're not pirates?"
Ben laughs. "I think we can get the treasure without being pirates; Jim Hawkins isn't really a pirate."
Their father's voice suddenly raises loud enough for them to hear, 'just shut up' from where they lie. Ben and Harold both sit up onto their elbows to see better. Their mother storms by a window, their father following a second after. Harold and Ben lie back down again.
"Okay," Ben says and slides his finger down the page quickly to find their spot.
"We should read Nineteen-eighty four next," Harold says.
"I think it's above our reading level."
"We don't have a reading level."
They both giggle once then Ben clears his throat. "Uh… more map direction things and, okay; That was all; but brief as it was, and to me incomprehensible, it filled the squire and Dr. Livesey with delight."
"Skip ahead to when they are actually on the island," Harold says.
"Already?"
Something crashes inside the house and they hear a door slam.
Their mother shouts, "We need the money!"
And their father shouts, "I know, you've said it enough!"
Ben and Harold look at each other then look back up at the stars in the sky. Ben lets the book flop down against his chest. Harold shines the flashlight up at the tree branches, rocks it from side to side then makes a slow circle with the light.
"Maybe they'll stop," Harold says quietly.
"They have to eventually."
Harold clicks the light off then on again. "I didn't just mean tonight."
Ben's hand slides over the blanket and covers Harold's free hand. "I know."
Harold turns off the flashlight, drops it down onto the blanket and squeezes Ben's hand. They stare up at the sky and count the stars on a path to their treasure far away from adults and fighting.
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Ben and Harold sit on the couch in front of their mother in the living room. In the kitchen over the peek-a-boo they see their father talking on the phone. Their mother is smiling in a way they haven't seen in a while, real and happy and hopeful.
"Oh boys," she says, "this is good news."
"What is?" Ben asks.
"Is it about dad?" Harold asks
"Yes," she says to both of them.
"Thank you, Horace, thank you," their father says on the phone.
Ben and Harold look at each other then back to their mother. She grins again, glances at the kitchen then back to the twins in front of her. "Your father is getting a new job."
"Job?" Ben says.
"What is it?" Harold says.
"One week, we'll be there." Their father says in the kitchen. "Thank you. Uh, say hello to Olivia. Yeah… yeah. Bye."
Ben tilts his head. "We'll be where?"
"Everything is going to be all right now," their mother says as she clasps her hands together.
Their father steps up to the edge of the linoleum, puts his hand on the top of the half wall. "It's all set, Emily." He smiles at her then looks at Ben and Harold. "Better start packing boys."
Ben raises his eyebrows and Harold frowns. Then their mother puts a hand on each of their shoulders. They look up at her.
"We're moving to a new place, boys. It is a special island where important work is being done. Your father is going to work there too and we are going with him." She smiles, wide and honest and the two of them believe her as she speaks. "It will be an adventure!"