me.
When I say some claim what they claimed about me and my Sofia in regards to Tanya Iâm talking about Teddy the cripple, my best friend, most of all. Teddy would claim this all the time, both to my face and to everyone we knew in common.
Everyone recognized the peculiar perfection of my face, the way I carried myself, some said like a king or Jesus.
There was always scuttlebutt, hearsay, innuendo.
I was famous.
I would see her next to me in the mirror, my Sofia, in the morning, looking the way she looked, and Iâd open the medicine cabinet and pull however many pills from the pillboxes and say, Take these.
She would choke them down all at once, look up at me, and say, So now what?
I never had an answer for her, but we would go back to bed and take advantage of each other for the rest of the day.
These were glorious times.
I never once thought of Tanya while in the middle of my Sofia.
Teddy was crippled anew every few years, but it started with what his parents did to him as a boy. They would have him work all day on the farm even though he wasnât strong enough to do it. Teddy was born with scoliosis and a clubfoot and had no more business out there in the field than me or my Sofia.
When Teddy was finished in the fields, he would come in and theyâd feed him some stew if they werenât inthe middle of themselves. Teddy said heâd come into the house sometimes and catch his parents tangled up in the living room. Sometimes they would ask him to take pictures. He never showed me the pictures, but I saw them one time over at his place. They were next to his bed, hidden behind a stack of books and papers.
I think maybe Teddy was in the fields while I was in his room looking at the pictures, doing whatever he had to do out there.
Maybe you canât blame Teddy entirely for what happened with my Sofia.
So much of my time is spent trying to assign blame to those who deserve it most.
For instance, my Sofia. I havenât seen her in years. I donât know where in the world she might be hiding herself.
My Sofia used to hide from me all the time. I would come out of class and look for her in the hallways, in the playground, on the streets, in the meadow. She was always nowhere.
Now I think she was with Teddy half the time. They were probably getting tangled up with Teddyâs parents in the living room, everyone taking pictures of everyone else. I didnât think this back then, but I do think it now.
Tanya, though, was never nowhere. Tanya was always exactly where you could easily find her. Out there in the middle of everything, prancing around in the sundresses she always wore, regardless of the season.
When I look into the mirror and want to kiss myself, I want to do so for many reasons. Not the least of which is who wouldnât except for Tanya, and goddammit if only God knows why sometimes.
Tanya and my Sofia were identical twins who didnât look like each other.
Teddy thought my Sofia was prettier than Tanya, which tells you all you need to know about Teddy.
I would always refer to Sofia as my Sofia and never once said that about Tanya. I would say things like, My Sofia is spending a month at the sanitarium, or I would say, No one can dance a tarantella like my Sofia.
What I would say about Tanya was, Did you see Tanya in that sundress this morning?
I would say this to my school chums, particularly Teddy, who was my best friend, even though he was as horrible as the rest of them and a cripple to boot.
Teddy would make some comment about Sofiaâs figure, he would call her voluptuous or an hourglass. He would tell me what he would like to do to her and how often. I would tell him to calm himself down, that he would only be disappointed, that hourglasses break and then itâs sand all over your shoe.
Every morning when I wake is a disappointment. I look around the room and everything is the same. My Sofia is nowhere next to me in bed and she isnât hiding
When I say some claim what they claimed about me and my Sofia in regards to Tanya Iâm talking about Teddy the cripple, my best friend, most of all. Teddy would claim this all the time, both to my face and to everyone we knew in common.
Everyone recognized the peculiar perfection of my face, the way I carried myself, some said like a king or Jesus.
There was always scuttlebutt, hearsay, innuendo.
I was famous.
I would see her next to me in the mirror, my Sofia, in the morning, looking the way she looked, and Iâd open the medicine cabinet and pull however many pills from the pillboxes and say, Take these.
She would choke them down all at once, look up at me, and say, So now what?
I never had an answer for her, but we would go back to bed and take advantage of each other for the rest of the day.
These were glorious times.
I never once thought of Tanya while in the middle of my Sofia.
Teddy was crippled anew every few years, but it started with what his parents did to him as a boy. They would have him work all day on the farm even though he wasnât strong enough to do it. Teddy was born with scoliosis and a clubfoot and had no more business out there in the field than me or my Sofia.
When Teddy was finished in the fields, he would come in and theyâd feed him some stew if they werenât inthe middle of themselves. Teddy said heâd come into the house sometimes and catch his parents tangled up in the living room. Sometimes they would ask him to take pictures. He never showed me the pictures, but I saw them one time over at his place. They were next to his bed, hidden behind a stack of books and papers.
I think maybe Teddy was in the fields while I was in his room looking at the pictures, doing whatever he had to do out there.
Maybe you canât blame Teddy entirely for what happened with my Sofia.
So much of my time is spent trying to assign blame to those who deserve it most.
For instance, my Sofia. I havenât seen her in years. I donât know where in the world she might be hiding herself.
My Sofia used to hide from me all the time. I would come out of class and look for her in the hallways, in the playground, on the streets, in the meadow. She was always nowhere.
Now I think she was with Teddy half the time. They were probably getting tangled up with Teddyâs parents in the living room, everyone taking pictures of everyone else. I didnât think this back then, but I do think it now.
Tanya, though, was never nowhere. Tanya was always exactly where you could easily find her. Out there in the middle of everything, prancing around in the sundresses she always wore, regardless of the season.
When I look into the mirror and want to kiss myself, I want to do so for many reasons. Not the least of which is who wouldnât except for Tanya, and goddammit if only God knows why sometimes.
Tanya and my Sofia were identical twins who didnât look like each other.
Teddy thought my Sofia was prettier than Tanya, which tells you all you need to know about Teddy.
I would always refer to Sofia as my Sofia and never once said that about Tanya. I would say things like, My Sofia is spending a month at the sanitarium, or I would say, No one can dance a tarantella like my Sofia.
What I would say about Tanya was, Did you see Tanya in that sundress this morning?
I would say this to my school chums, particularly Teddy, who was my best friend, even though he was as horrible as the rest of them and a cripple to boot.
Teddy would make some comment about Sofiaâs figure, he would call her voluptuous or an hourglass. He would tell me what he would like to do to her and how often. I would tell him to calm himself down, that he would only be disappointed, that hourglasses break and then itâs sand all over your shoe.
Every morning when I wake is a disappointment. I look around the room and everything is the same. My Sofia is nowhere next to me in bed and she isnât hiding
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