Page 26 of The Twins

“Answer me!” Steven rounds the bed and gets in my face. He’s breathing hard, his face a mottled red, his shoulders hiked up and his body prepared for a fight he won’t get. “What did you do? How did you convince her—”

“Steven!” David pulls him back with a hand on his shoulder. Spinning him around, David holds Steven at arm’s length. “Stop. Wait until Tovah wakes up. She has never done anything in her life that she didn’t want to do. She’ll explain everything when she wakes up.”

“Fine,” Steven grits out through clenched teeth. He glares at me once more, then turns his ire on Yakov. Over Steven’s shoulder, I mouth “sorry” to Yak, he just shrugs. “You! You knew, you know everything that happens! You kept this from us! From your Avinus!”

Yak’s calm as he responds, “Wasn’t mine to tell. Didn’t affect the Kosher Nostra or the family. Didn’t put anyone at risk.”

Steven shoulders sag. “Don’t be logical with me! I’m pissed!” There’s no fight in his voice though.

For the time being, an uneasy truce settles over the family. Tovah will explain when she wakes up. I stare down at her, even as Tevye slides a chair behind me to sit down. Myomri. She needs to wake up. I need to see her eyes. I need her.

Tovah 19.

One. Two. Three. Throw.

UGH! Why can’t I get this right? Zeppo and Ezra make it look so easy. If they can do it,Ican do it.

Deep breath. Calm. Steady.

One. Two. Three. Throw.

“GOD DAMMIT!”

Knife in hand, I spin around at the sound behind me, poised and ready to strike. Heart in my throat, I force my body to relax. It’s Pharaoh. He makes my heart race for an entirely different reason.

Tev and I are 10 years old, but we’re the tallest kids in our class and the two grades above us. Pharaoh isTALL. I mean, he’s like 18 and a man, but he’s super tall. I think Dad said he’s 7 feet tall. He doesn’t speak though. My cousins never shut up, my aunts and uncles are always talking, but Pharaoh…the glimpses I get of him, his mouth is always shut, his eyes…haunted. That’s how Aunt Esther describes him. Uncle David, the Avraham Avinu, said “tragically, he’s a skilled interrogator.” I don’t know what that means exactly, being skilled at something sounds like a good thing.

He's handsome, too. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And he’s here with me in the compound gym. We had instruction earlier, my cousins, brother and I. Our parents want us to be competent enough to escape a threat. Being children of the Jewish mafia makes us targets for the “unscrupulous”.

Pharaoh gently taps me on the shoulder with the tip of his finger. He points between us, and I realize he wants me to mimic his pose. I position my body like his and feel my cheeks heat when he smiles at me with a thumb’s up.

For the next hour, he walks me through several defensive moves and a few offensive. He never utters a word and it’s the most beautiful silence I’ve ever experienced.

***********

“Come on, Masud. Show me what you got.” I extend my hand, hold up my palm, and bend my fingers to beckon him. He smiles, toothy and broad, distracting me. 6 years we’ve been doing these lessons. And the man has only gotten hotter. It’s ridiculous how much I think about him. His eyes, soulful and troubled, haunt me in my dreams. Natural tan skin courtesy of his Egyptian heritage, big broad shoulders, long lines, sinewy muscle, perfect control over his body.

He advances, using my momentary distraction to his advantage, faking to his left, using his right leg to sweep mine out from under me. I land on my back and use the momentum to roll to my knees, my knife drawn and aimed at his “delicate bits”. He laughs, grabbing my wrist and twisting my arm around. I stand with the movement, spin on my heels, plant my ass in his midsection, and flip him over my back. He lands with a thud, arms sprawled, body shaking with quiet laughter.

At the edge of the mat, I grab a towel and wipe the sweat from my face and wrap it around the back of my neck. Tossing my head back, I squeeze my water bottle into my mouth and drink greedily.

“Happy Birthday.” Startled, I drop my water bottle with a gasp. He spoke. To me. I’ve heard his voice a few times over the years we’ve been sparring. Always low, hoarse. But just now…clear and confident.

He hands me a long, gift-wrapped box. A bow on top. “You got me a birthday gift?” He smiles encouragingly, nodding at the box. “Thank you.” I rip it open, the first of my sweet 16thbirthday extravaganza. Tevye and I are twins, but we don’t share a birthday. His was yesterday, we had a family dinner, then he went out with our dad and uncles and male cousins. I don’t know what they did, but I know I was pissed I wasn’t invited. Penis or not, I’d wipe the floor with any of them. And they know it.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He makes a sound at my cursing, but I’m too excited to care. “Is this…is this aKhatool Maccabee?”He nods with a softness to his expression I don’t understand. I hold the tactical knife at my side, feeling it’s weight. “Didyou give one to Tev?” His eyes widen briefly, then he laughs as he shakes his head. “Better not. This bitch is mine.” I thrust it into the air, doing a few practice swings, loving how it feels in my hand…natural.

Without thinking, I launch myself into his body, my long arms around his neck. His reaction is instant. A strangled noise in his throat, his large hands in the center of my chest shoving me to the ground. He drops low, his body strung tight in a defensive position. Tears well in my eyes at the sight of this beautiful…broken man. I know not to touch him. Unless we’re sparring or he’s working for my uncle, no one touches Masud.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I wipe angrily at the tears, using my leggings to dry my hands. Masud’s eyes are unfocused, teeth bared. “I’m sorry. I’ll…shit. I’ll leave, I’m sorry.” I gather my gear and his present. “Thank you, Masud. This is the best birthday gift ever.”

I leave him alone. Running through the halls of the family compound, rushing back to the safety of my own room. Slamming the door behind me, I lock it and slide down to the floor. I hold the knife in my hand, turning it over and over.

“Stop it. You sniveling, pathetic little girl.” I close my eyes and will the tears to stop. I’m better than this. I’m stronger than my cousins and brother, faster, deadlier. Moshe won’t choose me as akapitan, but that doesn’t mean I can’t protect the family.

And Masud. He serves the Kosher Nostra, but no one serves him. I will. I flip the knife, catching it by the handle. I’ll protect him too.

***********

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