Leeches

Part Two

             "Am I light twinkling over the steeple of your spine? Am I stone jutting from the soft green earth you claimed? Am I the ovation buried in your throat? I'm from the city of bruises- step on me like conquered land, and I cough the sharp fragile shards of your name."

--from Historical Fiction regarding the Separation of the von Trotta twins

Rembrandt felt lighter. He first realized he was awake by the chill of his silk sheets, but he didn't realize he was alive until he sat up and looked down at his belly. His heart skipped a beat. No Rubens! All he saw was an average, single-bodied man's stomach that bulged out, with a deep round navel and fuzzy trail of dark-brown hair. It gurgled softly. Rembrandt wanted to jump up and scream with joy. No Rubens! No parasite! No monster! He shivered as a deep, loud voice galloped down the hall....

"GO-OD MORNING!"

Rembrandt opened the door. A tall, beefy figure slid down the wooden hall in slick black socks, stopping himself before he entered Rembrandt's room. The man's face and body were identical to his-- dark-brown hair, kindly brown eyes, muscular arms, strong, handsome features, and a full, rounded belly. He felt his stomach slosh into his knees.

"Rubens!" he cried, wrapping one arm around his twin, "My God, you look so...so...!"

"Healthy?" chuckled Rubens, "Full-formed? Like you?"

Soothed by the gentle giant's laugh, Rembrandt grinned.

"I s'pose you could say that."

Rubens hugged him back. Rembrandt gasped; he could have sworn he felt his ribs crack. Is Rubens stronger than me? he thought, No! My hugs must feel the same way...well, they will feel the same way.

"Ahhhh!" Rubens let go of Rembrandt, leaving his brother with sore arms, "This morning I woke up at five on the nose-- is that what they call it, brother? Probably. Anyway, the first thing I realized, when my eyes opened was...it's just me! I don't need to close my eyes!" He twirled around in a slight dance. "I open my eyes and see the sun. I see the clouds drift by and the birds...they're even prettier than they sound!" He sniffled and one eye glinted with a tear. "I-I've never seen anything like it. I've never seen much of anything-- except for your eyes, nose, lips. But this morning I saw something different. Little black eyes. Little black beak. Blue and red feathers-- blue wings spreading and flying...!" A tear dripped down his cheek. "This is the most beautiful day of my entire life!"

Rembrandt blinked back his own stinging tears.

"Today's Saturday," he said, "We can do what we...I mean, you want."

Rubens paced up and down the hall, folding his hands behind his back.

"I've never met a girl."

"Well...neither have I. Not in that way."

Rubens looked up, lifting an eyebrow.

"You don't blame me for that, do you?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that...but contending with another human jutting out of your stomach could complicate certain activities."

"I don't blame myself," Rubens sighed, "I blame God."

Rembrandt's heart pounded. He wanted to answer, but decided not to. He'd never heard his brother say such a deep thing. (Or at least...deep in comparison to the usual complaints.)