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“What was that?” I ask.
“The door?” Bet says.
“I’ll get it,” Ella offers. But I shove her aside and run down the hall and across the entryway. Just before I open the door, I realize that Sean’s shoes are still here, where he kicked them off.
“Where have you been?” I ask when we’re face-to-face.
“Out here,” he says. “Getting some air.”
“For two hours?” I ask. “I thought you left.”
“No,” he says, “I just needed to think. You weren’t kidding when you said the normal part of my day was over. I think the normal part of my life is over.”
“Want to come back in?” I ask. “Or are you just here for your shoes?”
“Actually, I’m here for you,” he says quietly. “But I’ll take my shoes, too.”
I inhale salty air and gently brush my hair out of my mouth as Sean and I drive, windows down, away from my house. It’s a warm day, but it’s nearly October so there’s a little bite to it; I’d like to roll up the windows, but I guess Sean’s need for air continues. I keep looking at him, trying to mentally yank his thoughts out of his brain with the help of my eyeballs.
“I have a million questions,” he says finally. I exhale, relieved.
“I have a million answers,” I say. “Go for it.”
“Okay,” he says, turning a corner and turning down the radio. Then, noticing me shiver, he apologizes and rolls up the windows. “Was Ella in creative writing this year? At first?” He glances at me and I smile.
“Good eye,” I say. “I failed a trig quiz and Mom made us switch. My first day was the day I fainted.”
“I thought so,” he says. “You were so much cooler after that day.” He pauses, then adds, “I mean, not that Ella’s not cool.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say. “I get it. Thank you.”
“Sure,” he says. “So my next question is: Why didn’t your mom just move to another country when you were babies? Why’d she stay in the U.S.?”
“She’s not some international spy or something,” I say, laughing. “She probably just wanted to stay in the country she knew. I think she really thought hiding us in plain sight would work.”
“I see,” he says, pulling onto the freeway. He thinks for a second. “Okay, what about your system: Why do you split each day in thirds instead of just doing every third day?”
“We tried that once; it didn’t work,” I say. “It was too hard to keep up on classes if we were only in them every third day. And South had block scheduling, so that made it really hard. This works better.”
Sean pauses before firing off another question. “So, what’s it like?” he asks finally. “Looking exactly like two other people?”
The question is one I’ve never been asked, not even when I was young. It’s complicated.
“Well, it’s equal parts wonderful and horrible,” I say.
“What’s good about it?”
“The connection.” I smile. “We’re really close, and not just emotionally. We’re on one another’s wavelengths. We can feel strong feelings from the other ones, and sometimes we even have the same dreams.”
“That’s so cool,” he says. I nod.
“Sometimes, yes,” I say. “Like if I’m in a bad mood, they just know. They can feel what I feel. They don’t have to ask. It’s nice to be understood like that.”
“What about the bad parts?” Sean asks as he takes a hard turn. I realize that we’re near the water now.
“I think it’s made worse by the fact that we’re sharing one life, but the bad side of looking like two other people is feeling like I don’t have my own identity at all. Like there’s nothing unique about me.”
I pause, remembering what Sean said earlier.
