After You

Jacob

Alfie,

I'm trying not to be hurt. Believe me, I'm trying so hard right now.

I should have found out that you were sick. I should have found out from you, as soon as you knew. We're twins, and even though I always went on about "retaining individuality" and "not living in each other's pockets", there are some things you don't hide from your twin brother. A life-changing diagnosis of a degenerative disease is one of those things.

Even if you weren't going to tell me, Mum and Dad knew. They must have known it would come out during the inquest, and yet they didn't think to take me aside and warn me about it? Maybe it's something I deserve to know, especially now that they're all saying it's why you killed yourself. They didn't even tell me after the inquest.

I found out third-hand, when everyone was talking about it at school the next day. No-one said it to my face, but I could hear them muttering and whispering. "Alfie Rees killed himself because he was sick", "Alfie Rees committed suicide because he didn't want to waste away". They were coming up to me and saying "Jacob, I'm so sorry, I had no idea", and all I could do was stare at them like a fucking moron because I had no idea what they were talking about.

Eventually, Willow explained. She explained how you were diagnosed with muscular dystrophy and although they can't prove it, they think you killed yourself because it was just going to get worse and worse, and you'd lose all control of your body and have to rely on us to look after you. Maybe on some planets, that's just a tiny little tidbit of information, but here on planet Earth it's something you tell people, especially your twin brother!

I walked right out of school. I shouldn't have, because it was my first day back after the suspension and Mr Birchell was perfectly clear that I was on probation, but I couldn't stick around and listen to everyone's sympathy all day. It's completely fake; none of them really give a shit. It's been six months since you died; no-one really cares any more. Maybe a few of us still do, but everyone else is getting on with their lives. That's something I could be doing, if you hadn't kept this secret from me.

Where's my closure? I'm never going to know why you wouldn't tell me, and every time I ask Mum and Dad, they just say "you wouldn't understand". I already don't understand; I'm already so fucking confused that it hurts. What harm could it do to give me a reason; any reason, why you were diagnosed with this awful-sounding condition and none of you thought that maybe you should let me know. When was I going to find out? When you stopped being able to walk? When you stopped talking? Would they wait until you were in some sort of vegetative state and say "Oh, by the way Jake, we thought you should know – Alfie's not very well"?

I can't trust anyone. I used to count myself lucky, because I had so many people around me that I could trust. Mum and Dad, and you and the others. I could tell you anything and I knew you'd have good advice, and you'd be honest with me. That's gone now. Mum and Dad lied to me for months; they kept this secret from me, and I can never forgive them for that. Jess spends all her time drunk or high. She messaged me earlier, asking if I could go and visit, but it's the first time I've heard from her in ages, and I'm not in the mood. You're dead. Willow and Finn seem to have taken Max's side, and yeah, I feel guilty for what I did to him, but it looks like Max kept his fair share of secrets from me too – like the weird gay stuff he was writing about the two of you.

Although the more I think about it, the more I wonder whether it was fiction after all. Is he really a fantasist, or did you keep more things hidden from me? If I couldn't trust you to tell me about a life-changing, incurable illness, why should I trust that you were straight? Why should I believe anything you ever said to me? My own twin brother; the person who shares almost all of my DNA, couldn't be trusted. And if you can't be trusted, who can?

What if I get sick? If we share all that DNA, what if I end up with muscular dystrophy too? I asked Mum and Dad this, and I could tell they were bullshitting me when they said "it's probably not genetic, the risks are tiny, it's nothing to worry about". They're going to make an appointment with a geneticist, because when I finally called them out on it, they said they had no idea. Sometimes these things are genetic, sometimes they aren't.

So it's been a great day in the Rees household. Not only have I lost trust in everyone I know, and been the very last one to find out your secret, but I might also lose all control over my body and end up needing around-the-clock care too, and I'll never get the answers I need. I'll never find out why you kept it hidden from me, I'll never find out why you killed yourself, and I'll never find out exactly what else you lied to me about.

I always thought I knew you better than I knew anyone. Sometimes I thought I knew you better than I know myself. Now I'm wondering if I ever really knew you at all.

Jacob