The twins laughed when Carl and Marie told them the story. It was laughter borne half from genuine amusement and half out of that expected discomfort that comes from one's parents sharing something even marginally intimate. True to the manner in which they'd been raised they shared both halves equally between themselves. Karen cupped her mouth, as if she'd suddenly remember that on the other side of the flimsy sheet rock wall facing their modest living room were the Rosenbergs, an elderly Jewish couple who were currently having potato pancakes by the light of a menorah alone. Her sudden outburst, rather than droning muterings of her father instersperesed by her mother's sing-sing admission, is what would disturb their solemn, silent, sacred meal.
Ruth just laughed outright with mighty busts from her diaphragm, only raising her hand in front of her face because subconsciously she thought it muted her unabashedness. In reality noting could ever hope to mute Ruth. It was at times superbly obnoxious magnificently beautiful. It was she who, upon hearing the news of the tumor pressing against the blood vessels that fed her father's eyes declared "Holy Shit, Pops! It's a sign! You've gota come see the big apple while you can still see!"
Karen was more serious about it, as had been her role throughout the years. She listened over the phone as her mother sumbled arond words like 'inoperable' and 'Clinical Trial' and 'Prolongued life.' There was silence for a while save for the scratching sound of a long distance call and then she uttered a long, drawn out "shhiiit..." And that was how Marie finally came to terms with her twin daughters' propensity for four letter words.
"How are your eyes now?" Karen asked.
"Oh, just fine." Carl said and watched the blur that was where her face should have been change shape ever so slightly.
After they'd eaten and spoken for a while, Marie helped the girls make the most of their small refrigerator and put away the rest of the half a turkey they'd prepared. Ruth harped on about how easy making dinner was and how she should really try this cooking thing more often hile Karen started on the dishes and Marie advised that, based on the ammount of chinese take out containers in the fridge, a bit more of 'this cooking thing' wasn't a bad idea. "Only, you should invest in a baster because it was a little bit dry."
Meanwhile Carl was exploring. He'd gotten up from the broad dining table in the narrow dining room and was navigating the brief but perilous hallway by extending his arms to either side so his fingers touched the walls as he walked. It was a far cry from their home in Colorado, this New York City apartment. He'd found the end of the hallway when his feet bucked against the low shelf that stood there, Instinctively his hands went toward the clattering, and he caught a standing rectangle, wood at the edges and cold glass in the center, just as it was about to fall. He held it like a precious thing, looking down at it. Black. He turned it over, and there was the brown of the wood. He tapped the glass center and realized what the thing was. A picture frame. The picture was hard to make out. Several columns of dark blue, flecked with gold, and each column tapped in white, and each exactly similar to the other in shape.
"Isn't he handsome?" Karen's voice said, and Carl realized that she'd been standing there, her pearl colored dress blending into the off-white walls. How long had she been standing there, he wondered, watching him fumble blindly. He looked away from the shape of her face to the homogeneous columns in the picture frame.
"Who's handsome?" He said.
"C.J.' She replied, and in front of his vision the blur of Karen's finger fell on one of the clustered columns. "Ruth says he makes that uniform look good."
Ruth just laughed outright with mighty busts from her diaphragm, only raising her hand in front of her face because subconsciously she thought it muted her unabashedness. In reality noting could ever hope to mute Ruth. It was at times superbly obnoxious magnificently beautiful. It was she who, upon hearing the news of the tumor pressing against the blood vessels that fed her father's eyes declared "Holy Shit, Pops! It's a sign! You've gota come see the big apple while you can still see!"
Karen was more serious about it, as had been her role throughout the years. She listened over the phone as her mother sumbled arond words like 'inoperable' and 'Clinical Trial' and 'Prolongued life.' There was silence for a while save for the scratching sound of a long distance call and then she uttered a long, drawn out "shhiiit..." And that was how Marie finally came to terms with her twin daughters' propensity for four letter words.
"How are your eyes now?" Karen asked.
"Oh, just fine." Carl said and watched the blur that was where her face should have been change shape ever so slightly.
After they'd eaten and spoken for a while, Marie helped the girls make the most of their small refrigerator and put away the rest of the half a turkey they'd prepared. Ruth harped on about how easy making dinner was and how she should really try this cooking thing more often hile Karen started on the dishes and Marie advised that, based on the ammount of chinese take out containers in the fridge, a bit more of 'this cooking thing' wasn't a bad idea. "Only, you should invest in a baster because it was a little bit dry."
Meanwhile Carl was exploring. He'd gotten up from the broad dining table in the narrow dining room and was navigating the brief but perilous hallway by extending his arms to either side so his fingers touched the walls as he walked. It was a far cry from their home in Colorado, this New York City apartment. He'd found the end of the hallway when his feet bucked against the low shelf that stood there, Instinctively his hands went toward the clattering, and he caught a standing rectangle, wood at the edges and cold glass in the center, just as it was about to fall. He held it like a precious thing, looking down at it. Black. He turned it over, and there was the brown of the wood. He tapped the glass center and realized what the thing was. A picture frame. The picture was hard to make out. Several columns of dark blue, flecked with gold, and each column tapped in white, and each exactly similar to the other in shape.
"Isn't he handsome?" Karen's voice said, and Carl realized that she'd been standing there, her pearl colored dress blending into the off-white walls. How long had she been standing there, he wondered, watching him fumble blindly. He looked away from the shape of her face to the homogeneous columns in the picture frame.
"Who's handsome?" He said.
"C.J.' She replied, and in front of his vision the blur of Karen's finger fell on one of the clustered columns. "Ruth says he makes that uniform look good."
