Twin

Chapter 4: Painful Are Your Unspoken Words

It was 12:13 a.m. when Zach returned home to see Mrs. Wright awake and in her morning clothes, a long sleeved dull white dress that hid most of her skin and the silver necklace Alex gifted her on Mother's Day three years ago. She wasn't wearing the matching earrings which Zach got her. In fact, she never did. She wore no other accessories, nor did she care to fix her dark brown hair. Alex's sofa was now placed right in front one of the living room's walls which held portraits of the two brothers. Mrs. Wright weakly occupied that sofa. Her chest rose and rested as she difficulty breathed. She looked like she was in her mid 80s when in reality she was not older than 40. Zach realized how she stared at the portraits; she didn't notice him and she didn't move her head at all. Her frozen posture seemed more lifeless than that of a statue.

"Mom," Zach's low voice said. "Why are you still up? Are you all right?"

She did not respond.

"Mom? Please say something. Do you need anything?" Zach spoke in a very warm way, but she didn't respond this time either, as if she had gone suddenly deaf and/or mute.

Zach was losing patience. Though his mother normally acted like she was mentally ill, he wasn't feeling like dealing with her crap that night. However, he did want to have a straight forward conversation with her. So he attempted to begin one: "Did you speak to Dad? Does he know about Alex?" The moment Zach mentioned his brother's name, Mrs. Wright fixed her dark eyes on him, but she said nothing. Then Zach said: "Where does he live now? Why don't you ever tell me?" Ever since Zach's parents got into a divorce, which was when he was eleven, his dad left the house and left no phone number, no address. There was no way his sons could reach him. For some reason, Zach always suspected that his mother knew everything about his dad, but there was something preventing her from sharing this information with her sons.

"Mom, I'm talking to you! Answer me!" Zach yelled. But his mom stood up moved slowly. As she reached the door, she turned back, facing her son, her lips parted to say: "Alex will not sleep in his own bed tonight."

"Nor will he ever again. He deserved what he got, Mom! Have you forgotten what he did to me? He tried to kill me. It's all his fault he's not sleeping in his bed tonight." Zach hated this. He hated speaking about himself that way. He missed his father too. Mr. Wright was different; he was always fun to be around with, unlike Mrs. Wright, who mostly acted crazily. But Zach couldn't think about all that now. Plus, there was so much he was dying to ask her, so many 'whys' he needed to ask...

Mrs. Wright hadn't been observing both portraits because she could only accept to see one, and that was Alex's.

In the bathroom, Zach was washing his face. In the mirror, his face looked tired and depressed. To erase the dark mood, he crooked his lips to form a smile. However, the same unhappy person remained; his brown eyes lacked brightness, and his lips soon returned to their normal position. He sighed, and convinced himself that everything is going to be all right.

He took his painkillers, and just before he went to bed he checked on his wounds: one was on his right forearm, another one was just below his right shoulder. On his left arm, there were three: two above his elbow, and one on his wrist. All were healing well, they also were too deep to create scars. He rubbed the old scar (the one he got as a child) until it hurt him. The cut on his belly will be gone in a matter of a week. His body would never be the same anymore. It would also be a reminder of a certain night.

"Good days are to come," Zach told himself. "Bad days came and left-Good days are yet to come."

And for some reason, Eliza was on his mind.