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𖤓
TE. It's an acronym. Short for Twin Emergency. The meaning is self-explanatory. The story of its birth is entirely predictable. Irish—like always, didn't do what she was supposed to, which were her chores. When we were seven, our parents began teaching us what we now know as essential life skills—cooking, cleaning, and washing clothes. To keep things fair, they'd give us a circular paper cut out with a black clock arrow featuring the bold words—THE TWIN'S WEEKLY CHORES up top and different tasks at the bottom. Whoever landed on a specific task had to complete it for that week. Irish and I had to keep spinning until all the chores got chosen during the beginning years of the wheel's creation since Clover wasn't even a thought then.
On one particular weekend, though, when we were thirteen, Irish's chore was to clean the house. The basement—due to old antiques stashed down there, thanks to our father's deep obsession with collectibles. The entire area had to be wiped clean. Bad. But it wasn't until Sunday afternoon that she even remembered that. It was unfortunate for her because it was on the night of Jarad's—the guy she had a crush on at the time, pool party.
Also, the night our parents came back home from Jersey.
Irish was in a dilemma—clearly. She had to clean up, but she couldn't take her time. The party was starting soon. Very soon. So, who did she call on to help her out? Me.
She busted inside my room and hollered. "Twin Emergency!"
Once she explained the issue, I didn't mind—at first. I had nothing to do. My chores were completed, and the only person I spoke to other than my family was at church. The problem was that Irish went upstairs after we were twenty minutes into cleaning. She was gaining a sweat from all the 'work' she was putting in and needed a break. Still, I didn't mind and continued dusting. Irish returned downstairs almost an hour later with a swimsuit underneath a cover-up, sandals, and shades. You would've thought she just got back in from Venice Beach. But instead, she was heading out—to Jarad's party.
"What?" I yelled. "You can't leave. We haven't finished cleaning yet."
Irish nodded. "Right, but here's the thing..."
She proposed that I finish with the downstairs area. Once she finished explaining, I gave her a look. I should've seen this setup coming.
"It's not like you have anything better to do—or anything at all."
"Yeah, but this is your job, not yours. I was doing you a favor." I reminded. "Besides, we'll get done quicker if you help." Four hands were better than two.
