The Tercel Brothers

The phone beeped, a text message coming through. Andrew reached from bed to check it. “Happy bidet, bro dude!!” Aaron, his twin, had sent the text. Though Andrew was the younger one, he felt he was more mature than his brother.

“A bidet is what they use in Europe, bro,” he mumbled to himself, putting his phone back on the nightstand. He rolled over and looked at the ceiling, finding Ted Danson’s face in the ceiling’s textured surface. “It’s going to be a long day, Teddy.”

*          *          *

Later that morning, Andrew’s mother called. “Hello, honey! Happy birthday! What’re you and Aaron doing tonight?”

“Umm, well, I’m celebrating with Terry and Carl. They’re taking me to see Wicked.”

“Oh. You know Aaron doesn’t like musicals so much.”

“I know, Ma. He’s not coming.”

“What do you mean? He’s your brother. It’s you guy’s birthday! Your Golden Birthdays, at that!”

“Ma, no one else even knows what a Golden Birthday is.”

“Well, then you’re hanging out with the wrong crowd, mind you. You know what it is.”

“Kinda feels like it’s just something our family makes a big deal about.” Andrew sighed, growing uncomfortable. He hadn’t known how to approach this subject with his mother, but he figured that he might as well finally get it over with. Aaron had already texted him two more times, asking about his plans. Andrew hadn’t responded.

“It’s not just our family, Andy.”

“Andrew.”

“Andrew. It’s a real thing. Your Golden Birthday—”

“I know, Ma.”

“—is when you turn the same age as the day you were born.”

“I know, Ma. I know.”

“And you guys are turning—”

“Twenty-two. I know, Ma.”

Silence pinched the moment.

“I don’t like that tone, Andrew Violin Tercel.”

He bit his lip, hating his middle name. “Sorry, Ma. It’s just, why do we always have to celebrate together.”

“You’re twins. That’s what you do. Identical twins celebrate their birthdays together.”

“Not all of them, Ma.”

“No? Not all of them? You talking about when one dies and the other is left alone? Like when that one guy killed his twin?”

Andrew winced. He hated when his mother brought that weird fact up, an odd guilt tactic. It almost always worked.

“No, Ma. I’m talking about… other twins I’ve met. They don’t always celebrate with their siblings.”

“Identical or fraternal?”

“What difference does that make, Ma?”

“There’s a difference. I read about it, after you were born.”

“Oh, so we’re referencing scientific data that’s twenty-two years old, Ma?”

“Don’t get smart with your mother, Andy.”

He decided not to correct her; he already felt like he’d overstepped his boundaries.

“Sorry, Ma.”

“And it’s not scientific data. I just read that identicals have a stronger bond than fraternals.”

He sighed again while the phone beeped in his ear. He pulled it away to see he had another text message waiting.

“What’s that?” his mother asked, alarmed. “Is someone calling you? Is it Aaron? You better do something with him today, Andrew. At least see him. He’s your brother. Your father would’ve wanted you two to get along, you know.”

He hated when she attempted one guilt trip after another, like a puppet master tugging the strings. And she knew mentioning their father always worked. Thankfully, she used it sparingly.

“It’s just a text, Ma. I can’t check it until I hang up.” It was a harmless lie. “It’s Aaron. I’ll see what he wants. I’m coming over next weekend right?”

“Right. You and Aaron, honey.”

“Yes, Ma. Yes. Okay, love you. Bye.”

He disconnected the call and checked the message. “Lunch at Bentley’s  ?” Andrew didn’t understand why Aaron’s phone let him space the question mark so far away from the restaurant’s name, but it couldn’t be help. Rubbing his neck, Andrew finally replied.

“Sure. Noon. Same booth.”

The reply was quick.

“Duh.”

It was time to shower. In the bathroom, he looked in the mirror. “Happy birthday,” he muttered without a smile.

*          *          *

“It’s almost 12:15, Aare.”

“Hello to you too, bro.”

“It’s just, I’ve a busy day.”

“It’s Sunday. And it’s our birthday. Are we not doing anything tonight?”

“Carl and Terry are taking me to see Wicked.”

“Carl and Terry. Terry and Carl. That’s all I ever hear about. Are you three a couple or something?”

“What? Are you kidding?”

“I mean, you know I’m okay with the gay shit, but that’s a little weird, bro.”

“Terry and Carl are a couple, Aare. I’m not with them. Either of them. They’re just my friends.”

“I’m just messing with you, man. Lighten up.”

The waitress arrived with cheap menus. “Hey, guys. Has it been a year?”

“It’s been two, actually,” said Aaron with a sidelong glance towards Andrew. “Groucho here didn’t want to come last year.”

“Well, maybe he was busy.”

“Oh, yeah, gee.” He turned to Andrew. “Were you busy last year, Andy? On our twenty-first, were you super busy?”

“I’ll have the BLT salad and a Diet Coke,” said Andrew, ignoring his brother’s taunts.

The waitress, Sandy, said, “Okay. And you, hon?”

Aaron stared a moment longer before smiling wide, saying, “A double cheeseburger, cheese fries, and a Coke. A regular Coke.”

“Okay. Be back with your drinks.”

They sat for a few seconds before Aaron started up again. “So, here we are. In Dad’s favorite restaurant.”

“You’re stating the obvious.”

“Well, what else should I say? Or should I let you talk? You’ve got your fancy degree after all.”

“It’s not a fancy degree. It’s a regular degree. And you could have the same one, too, if you just…”

“Just… what? Sucked up to my professors and lived in the library?”

Andrew sighed, feeling his face warm. “I’m just saying that you could be doing… more.”

“Like spending my time seeing musicals?”

“Hey, I haven’t even seen Wicked yet. It feels like everyone else in this freakin’ city has seen it but me.”

“Me, too, bro. I haven’t seen it.”

Andrew flinched. “What, you want to see it?”

Aaron looked away, looked back. “No. But it’d be nice to be asked. Or something. Or it’d be nice if you saw it another night.”

“Terry made the arrangements.”

“Whatever. It’s just… It just doesn’t feel like you care as much, or something. I mean, we’re brothers, man. Twins! We’re supposed to be closer, like we used to be.”

Andrew looked down, crossing his arms, folding in on himself. He hated talking about this stuff, about the way things used to be. The way it was when their father was alive. Sandy brought their drinks. Normally, she would attempt to engage the pair in another conversation, but she must’ve sensed the increased tension. She retreated quickly.

Finally, Andrew said, “Look, Aaron. We used to be closer, but then Dad died.” It hurt saying it, but it felt necessary. “That’s when Mom needed us most. But you just never… grew up. And it was up to me to keep us together. Even now, you know that Dad wanted us both to finish college, but you dropped out. Now you wash dishes.”

“It’s good money.”

“But you were gonna be a playwright. And I was going to direct your plays. And we were going to be the Tercel Brothers. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Aaron said quietly, looking at his drink.

“Then you dropped out, and it felt like you just… stopped dreaming. Or something. I’m not sure. It didn’t feel like you wanted to be part of my life anymore, what I wanted to shoot for.”

“But I did. I still do. I want to write a bunch of plays. I’ve got ideas. But… the freakin’ musicals are taking over. They even snagged you, bro.”

“I can direct a musical just as easily as I can a play.”

“But how am I supposed to compete with that flashiness? Those catchy scores? Audiences pay through the nose to go see stuff like Wicked and The Book of Mormon. Meanwhile, I’m outlining plays. I pitch them to co-workers at the restaurant and they ask ‘Where’s the music?’ It’s frustrating!”

Andrew touched Aaron’s shoulder. “Calm down, Aare. I know musicals are getting attention, but plays are still treasured in this town. And they make more plays into movies than they do musicals, ya know.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

“So, here comes our food. Let’s just eat and enjoy. And have a good birthday.”

Aaron nodded and, once his plate was in front of him, he started eating, silently, stonily. Andrew assumed he had a lot on his mind. Hopefully, something good.

*          *          *

Walking from the subway, Andrew laughed with Terry and Carl. “I’ll defy gravity like a bitch,” had been Carl’s catchphrase of the evening. Though it had worn on Andrew, he laughed for his friend’s sake.

“Did you have a good time, And?”

“Yeah. The show was amazing. I couldn’t help but wonder how they…”

“Ah, ah, ah, Inspector Director! Don’t analyze the hell out of it,” said Terry. “We want the Wizard to stay behind the curtain, thank you.”

Andrew smiled and, after looking forward, stopped. On his building’s stoop was Aaron. His smile faded as it felt like an ominous sign.

He jogged the distance to his brother. “What’s wrong? Is it Ma?”

“I wrote a play!”

“What? When?”

“Today, after lunch. I wrote a play. About us! About us being brothers!”

Andrew looked from his brother to Terry and Carl, and back. “Um, okay…”

“In the play, you talk to me about writing a different kind of play. One with barnyard animals and spaceships and stuff. And I’m like ‘No, that’s ridiculous. We should be writing a musical’ and that’s when I really started grinding the idea. It’s a play about writing a musical!”

Again, Andrew exchanged glances with his friends. “So, like The Producers, right? Except with brothers?”

His face fell, his smile vanished. After several seconds, Aaron screamed “Shit!” Terry and Carl started giggling. Andrew told them to go home.

“I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow. Aagain, thanks for the musical.”

He hugged them both when Aaron said, “Wow, you gays hug a lot. It’s like watching you hook up here on the sidewalk.”

Carl looked at Andrew. “You told him?”

“What? No!”

Aaron stood quickly. “About what? You three? I was right?” Andrew felt his face heat with embarrassment. “You told me you three guys weren’t a couple! And on our Golden Birthday!”

“What’s a Golden—”

“Never mind, Carl! I didn’t tell him anything. You just did.” He looked into his brother’s eyes, his own eyes. “It’s not like we’re a couple. They just… like to have a third sometimes.”

“Oh, no way! You gays are awesome!”

“That’s what he said,” said Terry, giggling to himself and saying, “I’m so bad.”

“Oh, now I have to write a play about this! It’ll be a hit! It’ll blow those freakin’ musicals out of the water!”

“But, Aare… I know it’s good you have an idea and all, but Ma’s going to be seeing this too. Or reading it, at least.”

“Oh, she’ll be seeing it. Not just reading it. There’s no way this isn’t notbeing made! People love the gays! And you can direct it!”

“I… Really?” The modesty within Andrew was mortified about having a character based on his life trotting the boards, but he couldn’t help feeling electrified by his brother’s entertaining notion. “We’ll have to change the names.”

“Right. Tercel is too hippish. And German.”

“No it’s not. And I mean our first names. All our names.”

“I like ‘Aaron Piano Tercel’.”

“In the play, Aare.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess. This is going to be sweet, bro! The Tercel Brothers, finally doing their first play!”

Andrew admitted to himself that it didn’t sound like a terrible notion. And whatever Aaron needed help with, Andrew would be there. Because they were brothers, and he believed it was time he started acting like one.



Word Count: 1,992