Familiar Lines
Part Three
Two hours later
Denise was quiet as she rested her head against the passenger side window. The last
time she had been in a Trans Am it was in the backseat and when she wouldn't give her
date the stereotypical beer guzzling dumb jock what he wanted he called her a "fucking
tease" and kicked her out of the car making her walk home in the rain. Despite that
experience she still loved the car. That's not why she was quiet. It was creeping at a
snail's pace before due to her own trepidation and now it was moving way too fast. She
was beginning to wonder if her so-called confidence was just a sham and not just
because of finding and meeting her twin brother.
"Are you okay?" Drake asked as he thought of ending his thought with the word "Sis". If
ever there were a reason to let his sentimental side out this would be it.
"Fine, Drake."
"I couldn't let you stay in that terrible motel a minute longer. It was gross."
"But you don't understand."
Denise was surprised that words just spilled out of her.
"What, Denise?"
"As I told you before, I ran away. As much as my mom annoys me—The small part of
me that feels concern for her—I should go back home. Yet, I don't want to—because I
do want to get to know you more—and we're crammed in a lot in two hours. But I
CAN'T stay at your house. You cannot hide me as if I'd fit into your pocket."
Drake pulled into a rest area because he had this feeling and it was the first time
having one of those special twin bonds with Denise actually present and not a weird
feeling that he had to shake off because people would find him crazy if he admitted
such.
(Except Audrey—my mom?)
Drake put his hands on nine and three o'clock positions on the steering
wheel.
"We'll find a way."
She didn't know if he was really optimistic or if he was just stalling for time, bullshitting
in a good meaning way, as he went along.
"How?"
"You said your friend Leticia…."
"I think she's about to be my ex-friend."
"might tell your mom(?) about where you are?"
"I think so, Drake. All she had to do was mail little postcards and keep her damn mouth
shut. And I should go home. Yet, I don't want to leave you."
She didn't want to appear desperate.
"You needn't worry about that."
"I still can't stay at your house."
"I have an idea. I can sneak you in---"
"You don't listen, do you, Drake?"
"Trust me, Denise. You can stay in my room. And then in the morning, we'll work on
finding you a place to stay."
"What about going home?"
"Did you ever stop to think that maybe you are home?"
"I have to tell my mother the truth eventually."
"Of course."
"Drake—uh forget it."
"You don't have to be afraid to talk to me, Sis."
Denise smiled and that's when Drake knew that would be an okay thing to say.
"It's just," she ran her fingers through her hair. She wanted to take the world's longest
shower, "if the truth gets out there…see I only want to tell my mom that I'm alive and well
and in the flesh, but not about you and I. Not because I'm ashamed of you, Drake. I'm
not. But the moment, because we aren't eighteen yet, the moment THEY find out about
it, it doesn't become about you or I anymore. It becomes about THEM and their
choices that made all of this possible. In all honesty, brother, it's none of their damn
fucking business."
She sighed heavily and was glad that she wasn't crying.
Drake cupped his palm on her knee. "I never gave that much thought about everyone
finding out."
"And what about school? Not that I love it. I fricking hate it. I just go there to socialize."
"Me too. You know what," Drake turned the key in the ignition, "Let's not worry about this
stuff, okay? You trust me and I trust you. Let's grab something to eat, I'm hungry."
"Are you paying?"
"Of course. How about some pie?"
"Do you know a place that makes a good blueberry?"
"Sure do. It's the helicopter diner…and you don't have to worry about being seen there,
it's mostly an old person's hang out. My Grandmother used to take me there all the time
before she passed away."
(Our Grandmother.)
"I'm sorry, Drake."
"You'd have loved her Denise. She gave me her Frank Sinatra records."
Denise liked looking at Drake's profile and then seeing the feminine version of her own
face in the reflection of the passenger's side window glass.
They were familiar lines and now after all this time finally connected.
Apart from the blueberry pie, stories about bobbysoxer Grandma's, and bonding in an
empty house over pizza and beer, only one thing remained.
For it was a question. That deep down Denise knew that Drake also carried within
himself.
How long could they exist as brother and sister without anyone else
knowing about it?
How long was it going to be before it would become ALL ABOUT THEM?