Lucien and Damien Poulain - a brief history
When they came outta Mama's belly, she screamed. I was there in the room with Papa when it happened. We saw both heads come out at once, and Mama screamed for the first time. I'm not sure if she was screamin' outta pain, or cos her baby had two heads...maybe both. The next thing we saw was two arms and one chest, and four legs. That baby was a monster, Papa said, a monster that ripped Mama apart.
I was already 23 when the twins was born. Livin' on my own, with my own family, but I wanted to be there when my baby brothers were born. Mama died that day, but the twins lived. Funny that.
Papa took them home and tried his best to care for them, but I knowed it then that he wasn't gonna keep them. All he could see when he looked at their faces was that they killed Mama. They were a thing to him, not a boy, and definitely not two boys. I never met them, but I saw them lots, even after Papa gave them up to that place for lost children with no families. They didn't seem to mind much, mostly cos they always had eachother right there and didn't need no one else. Sometimes I wondered if they weren't the luckiest boys in all the world, to be attached always to someone like that. But I never said that to no one, Papa'd disown me too I bet.
I found out later that the reason they was born attached like that, at the shoulder and most of the chest, was because Mama and Papa were so old when the twins were conceived. I never did find out what that all meant, but the doctors were sure of it. Somethin' went wrong.
Anyway, they lived for five years in that orphanage, as happy as clams. I watched them sometimes, playing outside with eachother in the sand or watching clouds go by on the grass. They never did bother to have any friends. They had a strange way of walkin', and it looked more like they was leanin' up against eachother for support than anything else. I remember watching them learn to crawl when they was babies, how one twin controlled on arm each: Lucien the left, and Damien the right. I remember the way they looked, with their pitch black hair and pale skin. Lucien's eyes were green, just like the grass, and Damien's were a golden brown. They was beautiful babies, and beautiful little boys. Lucien always smiled, he was just the nicest damn baby there ever was. Papa said he'd be just perfect if he'd been born whole. Damien almost never smiled, but he was nice too. Papa never liked him much, and when he told me about the twins, he would tell me that he wished Damien hadn't ever existed. Then he'd have his perfect little boy, and his wife, because Lucien wouldn't ever hurt his Mama like that. I think Papa went a little crazy after Mama died, he wouldn't have normally said nothing like that, but he been through a lot.
When the twins turned 10, the doctors told them that they needed to be separated, in order to live their lives proper. Damien screamed and screamed until his lungs couldn't do it no more, until his throat bled. He never wanted to be apart from Lucien. The funny thing was, Lucien never made a sound. He just stayed close to Damien, like always, and told him that everything would be okay.
Well, everything was okay, at the beginning. The boys spent a long time on that operating table, just fine, and then it musta been God that decided someone was doing wrong by separating them, cos the next thing anyone knowed, everything was a mess. Damien died, he lost too much blood they say, but it was more'n that. He didn't want to live if he wasn't attached to Lucien, that's what it was. Something happened to Lucien's eyes, the doctors never did find out what. They thought it was God, though, because the next time he opened his eyes, one was still as green and perfect as ever, and the other was brown. As golden and brown as Damien's, but he couldn't see outta it. He was sadder than anything when he found out that Damien hadn't survived, but he took it all with that same quiet grace he always did.
I finally met him, then, but not as me. I gave him a different name and told him I was volunteerin' my time at the hospital. He seemed to like talkin' to me, mostly about Damien. It took him three years before he adjusted to life without his other half. Three years to walk right, now that his balance was all thrown off, three years to learn to move with only one eye that worked perfect. In the daytime, its easy to see with only one eye--go ahead and try it, just close one of your eyes. But in the nighttime, it gets harder cos shapes ain't what they seem, and his one good eye wasn't as perfect as everyone thought anyway, cos he couldn't hardly see a thing at all. The poor kid, I felt right bad for him.
When he was 15, they gave him a new arm, it was all metal and very nice. They told him they could make it look like a real arm, but he didn't want that, he said it wasn't a real arm and no one would ever think it was. He had lotsa scars from the surgery already. As it is, he's never undressed in front of anyone but me and the doctors since, and he only did it in front of me cos, well, I suspect he knew in some way that I was his brother. Maybe cos I looked so much like him, with the black hair and the light eyes, but I dunno. He felt comfortable around me.
They let him leave the orphanage when he was 16, and that's when he moved into a little flat above a magic shoppe in the middle of town. I came to visit him a lot, and I tried to convince him to take up a sport, or something to take up his time. He decided to take up swordplay, which scared me a little. But his teacher was good, and I paid for his lessons like it were nothing, even though he started out shockingly bad at it. Anyone who'd been through what he had would be terrible at something that took balance and coordination, though, but he was determined. Soon he was competing in little tournaments that won him enough money for ballet lessons, too. He said the dancing was for his coordination, and I believed him, even if I did think it were right weird that a boy would do ballet. He got real good at the fighting, and I mean he was winning every tournament he was entering cos he was just that good, so I guess maybe that ballet paid off. But he still couldn't see at night, and no amount of ballet dancing and sword fighting would help that, but he dealt with that like he did with everything else, quietly.
Now, he's 25 years old, and he's a champion florentine fighter, which means that he fights with a long sword in each hand, or sometimes a sword and a dagger. He's traveled a lot for his tournaments, but they didn't ever get him no decent amount of money so they weren't doing him no good, except he had lotsa trophies and he loved doing it. With the cybernetic arm like that, I suppose it would be easier, cos it's hard to make metal tired, you know.
At one tournament, though, he happened to meet the King of Argo, a little planet mostly water in another system far away, and the King told him that he was beautiful. I think that was rather forward of him, but from what I hear, he's a very forward man, so I ain't surprised. Now, Lucien was so taken with someone that thought he was beautiful, that he spent the whole day talking with the man, and the next thing anyone knew, Lucien was packing his stuff all up to attend the Imperial Academy, a really important military school, on some Argan scholarship. Lucien is studying navigation and cultural histories, and language too. I don't think he'll ever be a real navigator, with eyesight such as his, but he never did take the easy road to anything, now that I think on it.
He still writes to me, and that's how I know so much, but he don't really know anything about me. Just that I was his friend when no one else would be, he said, and that's enough. I suppose it is enough, in some ways.
I sometimes wonder if he still thinks about Damien, or still sometimes feels like he's still attached to his brother. I wonder if a boy can ever get over something like that. And I wonder if he knows that Papa wishes he could see him again, now that Damien isn't with him anymore. I won't ever let him see Lucien though, I won't ever tell him where Lucien is. Just that he's alive, and he's happy. His perfect little boy is still perfect, and he's happy. I guess that's all that matters.
I was already 23 when the twins was born. Livin' on my own, with my own family, but I wanted to be there when my baby brothers were born. Mama died that day, but the twins lived. Funny that.
Papa took them home and tried his best to care for them, but I knowed it then that he wasn't gonna keep them. All he could see when he looked at their faces was that they killed Mama. They were a thing to him, not a boy, and definitely not two boys. I never met them, but I saw them lots, even after Papa gave them up to that place for lost children with no families. They didn't seem to mind much, mostly cos they always had eachother right there and didn't need no one else. Sometimes I wondered if they weren't the luckiest boys in all the world, to be attached always to someone like that. But I never said that to no one, Papa'd disown me too I bet.
I found out later that the reason they was born attached like that, at the shoulder and most of the chest, was because Mama and Papa were so old when the twins were conceived. I never did find out what that all meant, but the doctors were sure of it. Somethin' went wrong.
Anyway, they lived for five years in that orphanage, as happy as clams. I watched them sometimes, playing outside with eachother in the sand or watching clouds go by on the grass. They never did bother to have any friends. They had a strange way of walkin', and it looked more like they was leanin' up against eachother for support than anything else. I remember watching them learn to crawl when they was babies, how one twin controlled on arm each: Lucien the left, and Damien the right. I remember the way they looked, with their pitch black hair and pale skin. Lucien's eyes were green, just like the grass, and Damien's were a golden brown. They was beautiful babies, and beautiful little boys. Lucien always smiled, he was just the nicest damn baby there ever was. Papa said he'd be just perfect if he'd been born whole. Damien almost never smiled, but he was nice too. Papa never liked him much, and when he told me about the twins, he would tell me that he wished Damien hadn't ever existed. Then he'd have his perfect little boy, and his wife, because Lucien wouldn't ever hurt his Mama like that. I think Papa went a little crazy after Mama died, he wouldn't have normally said nothing like that, but he been through a lot.
When the twins turned 10, the doctors told them that they needed to be separated, in order to live their lives proper. Damien screamed and screamed until his lungs couldn't do it no more, until his throat bled. He never wanted to be apart from Lucien. The funny thing was, Lucien never made a sound. He just stayed close to Damien, like always, and told him that everything would be okay.
Well, everything was okay, at the beginning. The boys spent a long time on that operating table, just fine, and then it musta been God that decided someone was doing wrong by separating them, cos the next thing anyone knowed, everything was a mess. Damien died, he lost too much blood they say, but it was more'n that. He didn't want to live if he wasn't attached to Lucien, that's what it was. Something happened to Lucien's eyes, the doctors never did find out what. They thought it was God, though, because the next time he opened his eyes, one was still as green and perfect as ever, and the other was brown. As golden and brown as Damien's, but he couldn't see outta it. He was sadder than anything when he found out that Damien hadn't survived, but he took it all with that same quiet grace he always did.
I finally met him, then, but not as me. I gave him a different name and told him I was volunteerin' my time at the hospital. He seemed to like talkin' to me, mostly about Damien. It took him three years before he adjusted to life without his other half. Three years to walk right, now that his balance was all thrown off, three years to learn to move with only one eye that worked perfect. In the daytime, its easy to see with only one eye--go ahead and try it, just close one of your eyes. But in the nighttime, it gets harder cos shapes ain't what they seem, and his one good eye wasn't as perfect as everyone thought anyway, cos he couldn't hardly see a thing at all. The poor kid, I felt right bad for him.
When he was 15, they gave him a new arm, it was all metal and very nice. They told him they could make it look like a real arm, but he didn't want that, he said it wasn't a real arm and no one would ever think it was. He had lotsa scars from the surgery already. As it is, he's never undressed in front of anyone but me and the doctors since, and he only did it in front of me cos, well, I suspect he knew in some way that I was his brother. Maybe cos I looked so much like him, with the black hair and the light eyes, but I dunno. He felt comfortable around me.
They let him leave the orphanage when he was 16, and that's when he moved into a little flat above a magic shoppe in the middle of town. I came to visit him a lot, and I tried to convince him to take up a sport, or something to take up his time. He decided to take up swordplay, which scared me a little. But his teacher was good, and I paid for his lessons like it were nothing, even though he started out shockingly bad at it. Anyone who'd been through what he had would be terrible at something that took balance and coordination, though, but he was determined. Soon he was competing in little tournaments that won him enough money for ballet lessons, too. He said the dancing was for his coordination, and I believed him, even if I did think it were right weird that a boy would do ballet. He got real good at the fighting, and I mean he was winning every tournament he was entering cos he was just that good, so I guess maybe that ballet paid off. But he still couldn't see at night, and no amount of ballet dancing and sword fighting would help that, but he dealt with that like he did with everything else, quietly.
Now, he's 25 years old, and he's a champion florentine fighter, which means that he fights with a long sword in each hand, or sometimes a sword and a dagger. He's traveled a lot for his tournaments, but they didn't ever get him no decent amount of money so they weren't doing him no good, except he had lotsa trophies and he loved doing it. With the cybernetic arm like that, I suppose it would be easier, cos it's hard to make metal tired, you know.
At one tournament, though, he happened to meet the King of Argo, a little planet mostly water in another system far away, and the King told him that he was beautiful. I think that was rather forward of him, but from what I hear, he's a very forward man, so I ain't surprised. Now, Lucien was so taken with someone that thought he was beautiful, that he spent the whole day talking with the man, and the next thing anyone knew, Lucien was packing his stuff all up to attend the Imperial Academy, a really important military school, on some Argan scholarship. Lucien is studying navigation and cultural histories, and language too. I don't think he'll ever be a real navigator, with eyesight such as his, but he never did take the easy road to anything, now that I think on it.
He still writes to me, and that's how I know so much, but he don't really know anything about me. Just that I was his friend when no one else would be, he said, and that's enough. I suppose it is enough, in some ways.
I sometimes wonder if he still thinks about Damien, or still sometimes feels like he's still attached to his brother. I wonder if a boy can ever get over something like that. And I wonder if he knows that Papa wishes he could see him again, now that Damien isn't with him anymore. I won't ever let him see Lucien though, I won't ever tell him where Lucien is. Just that he's alive, and he's happy. His perfect little boy is still perfect, and he's happy. I guess that's all that matters.