The obstetrician told Gladys that her baby was too large. “Based on the scans, it’s twice the normal size. This could lead to some complications,” the doctor warned.
“Like what?” a nervous Gladys asked.
“The baby could be diabetic, morbidly obese, or grow so rapidly that he’ll be as tall as a man by the age of three,” the doctor said, wiping goo from the probe.
“What can we do?” a Gladys asked.
“Wait and see. It’s possible he’s just a very large baby.”
The doctor’s cold comfort was as useless as his diagnoses.
***
Donny’s head appeared first, covered with the greyish clay of the newly born. Attempts to get him any further out of his mother failed, as if he was a magician trying to free himself from an overtight straightjacket. Finally, he was pushed back in and out through an incision in his mother’s belly. Some said his failed birth, return to the womb and abrupt removal caused his problems.
“How is he?” Gladys asked weakly.
“He has a hump, I’m sorry to say. And possibly a second mouth.” Gladys fainted and didn’t wake for two days. Some blamed his problems on his mother’s failure to nurse him with precious colostrum.
It turned out that Donny was two boys in one. His smaller, weaker brother lived on his back in the hump that prevented a normal birth. Of course, Donny’s birth could never have been normal. Computer scans showed Donny and his brother shared lungs, a liver and a pancreas as well as part of a spine; his brother’s portion branching off from Donny’s like the leaf of a fern. His brother also had his own mouth, just below Donny’s left shoulder blade with lips, teeth and a tongue. His brother could could suck, chew, drool, smack, and learned to click his tongue to signal hunger. Stunted arms sprouted from a torso which Donny’s brother could twist and roll under his brother’s skin.
“Just stop feeding it,” the doctor recommended, “the other twin will wither and Donny can have a normal life.” Once again, his diagnosis would prove in error. Sadly, if Donny’s brother was deprived of his feedings Donny withered as well. No practitioner could explain why, but neither could they explain the weird circumstance of his birth. Donny grew, carrying his brother, never really knowing him but able to constantly sense his presence.
***
Gladys did her best for Donny and his plus one. He went to school but didn’t qualify for the special education classes that would have helped him to adapt to the world. Instead, he faced the daily indignities of his cruel classmates; ignoring him, beating him, laughing at him, excluding him and constantly reminding him he was not like other little boys. For lunch, Donny would hide in a toilet stall unhappily eating his sandwich and feeding his brother slurry from a bottle. He longed for the end of each school day so he could return home to his mother’s love and the glowing comfort of network television. Donny dove deep into the stories from TV, an uncritical, happy consumer. He was glad to have company that wanted nothing more than to entertain him and could never see his squirming hump nor bonus orifice.
***
When Donny was in the fourth grade a field trip was planned. Donny’s mother dutifully signed the consent fighting her instinct to keep him safe at home, knowing it was best for him face the unkindness of world and grow a thick skin. Donny scurried to the back of the bus and hunkered under a seat, in the hope of escaping his classmates’ abuse. Their destination was the Riker’s Island and the Statue of Liberty. Donny kept his head down on the ride over and was the last off the bus. As he stepped to the ground he was overwhelmed by the statue. This much larger than life woman, draped in robe holding her hand proudly overhead she had the same strong face as his mother. Like the people on TV she didn’t see Donny yet still offered company and comfort. He recalled watching his mother paint their apartment, paint in one hand a brush in the other dressed in an old, oversized bathrobe to keep splatters off her clothing. This giant was the same color as the soothing mint paste he used to brush his teeth and his brother’s which made them both feel refreshed and clean. For once, Donny went to the front of the line, unbothered by the stares of the tourists and the jeers of his classmates. He couldn’t wait to learn more about this amazing giant.
***
Over the years, Donny became more and more preoccupied by the statue. He visited whenever he could, and a repeat tour of Riker’s Island was always his birthday wish. He painted his room mint green and collected stories and photos of her he saw in the newspaper. All alone but full view of the world, Donny felt he and the statue travelled a similar road. There was no other statue like her in the world and Donny was sure there was no other boy like himself.
***
Donny graduated early from high school, and although there was some brief discussion of giving him two diplomas, officials decided that his non-sentient half had only gone along for the ride. He told his mother he was taking a job as a roadie for band, and would be gone for at least six months or longer. Although she loved and missed her boy, she secretly felt relief that the daily strain of worrying about him had lifted just a bit.
***
Rangers working in the Statue of liberty had heard the stories for decades. They all admitted to hearing noises and voices from above or below; a crash, thump or rustle or the murmuring of distance voices. The more sensible among them blamed squirrels or pigeons but the more superstitious felt there was a presence. Possibly a workman who had had fallen to his death while the internal skeleton of the statue was being built. Or a copper worker who slipped while hammering a rivet to hold the thin copper skin to the frame inside. When all the tourists had gone and the rangers made sure no one lingered and all the doors and windows were closed and the bathrooms vacant they still from time to time heard something inside the old lady. Maybe it was the copper shrinking or swelling, or the wind making her sway like a drunken bridesmaid, or maybe it was Donny.
The statue’s iron scaffold skeleton is merged with its massive concrete and stone base. The copper shell was bolted to the scaffold like a parade float to car, with lots of hollow space between the two. A spiral staircase curled up to her head so tourists could take in views of New York. Through his many visits to Lady Liberty, Donny had grown wise to the ladders, handholds, knobs and grips welded to the statue for maintenance workers to climb into every fold of her gown or nook of her arm. He discovered secret chambers filled with contraband from the 1800s; booze, morphine, tobacco, playing cards of naked women, and an array of hammers, pliers, files, wrenches, crimpers, snips and cutters. Donny clambered about the Copper Queen like a monkey in a mint green canopy. The many crevices and cavities provided ample sites to store food, clothing and any other supplies. The rent was free, the tourists left behind plenty to eat for both Donny and his brother, and the structure was climate-controlled for visitors so he was always comfortable, even in the extreme weather of New York. At the peak of summer if he became too hot he could take a cool nap inside her toes or in the depths of winter relax into a nostril and enjoy the heat as it collected in her head.
He had built a sort of nest in the torch, the part of the statue where only a few technicians were allowed to go. They periodically checked the wiring, lights and assed any metal fatigue but this was less and less frequent since most of the work could be done by drones buzzing around the exterior. Over the years security cameras were added but they were trained on the tourists not on the statue’s inner sanctum.
Donny was happy living in the copper giant. He missed his mother but not the world, and called her occasionally to let her know about his fictional travels. He was a modern Quasimodo and for the first time in his life felt at peace. One night, as he was snuggled in his cozy torch refuge, he heard a voice. It was sputtering and watery, like a snorkeler raising his head from the sea. Then it cleared and said, “Donny, can you hear me?”
Donny was silent. He worried he was hearing voices, or was dreaming, or someone had found his nest high atop the city. “It’s me, your brother.”
“My brother? How is it possible? Why have you been silent all these years?” Donny asked.
“I’ve longed to speak as long as you’ve been able. I’ve tried to communicate with you by stretching and rapping on your kidneys, but never seemed to understand. I’ve been able to hear every moment of your life.”
“I was told you were just a parasite, mindless and hungry.”
“The doctors, fools through and though. I’m certain they saw my brain in those scans but were too cowardly to admit it. It’s not your fault. I know I’ve been a burden and that you’ve been treated cruelly, and I’m sorry,” Donny’s brother said.
“How are you able to speak so well? You’re seemingly running before you could crawl,” Donny said.
“I’ve been practicing in my mind for fifteen years, and I seem to be partially wired to your mind. Sometimes I see your dreams and often feel what you are feeling. So whatever has allowed me to finally speak, has also allowed me to share your abilities.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Donny said, then paused for a moment. “I’m glad to finally meet you. Do you have a name?”
“Archibald, but you can call me Archie,” Archie said.
“Okay Archie. Is there anything you need?” Donny asked.
“Yes. I would like some Cheetos and to meet our mother.”
Donny hesitated. “Well, the Cheetos are easy but meeting Mom will be harder.”
“But I’ve never met her. I think she’ll want to know me,” Archie said.
“I have a good life here in the statue. This is the happiest I – we, have ever been. I don’t want to screw that up just because you suddenly decided to say something.”
“I am her long-lost son. I’ve never shared my thoughts with her, told her I love or had any of her home cooked meals. All you’ve ever given me is that horrid slurry. I have teeth, or didn’t you notice?” Archie protested.
“You were just another mouth to feed! She never lost you. She was very aware of the writhing hump inside me! It will only make her feel guilty and sad to know you were alive and alert the whole time, and she’s been through enough!” Donny said.
Archie replied, “You selfish prick! I’ve been trapped inside you my whole life, having to listen to you whine and cry and mope. You’re a pussy! You’re weak! I’d never have put up with that crap from the other kids! I’d thump them into apologizing or beat them bloody for even looking at me! But you, you rolled over and went into hiding just like you’re doing now. This isn’t a life, it’s a self-imposed prison. We should be in the world, making people understand different is good and valuable.”
“Look, we just met. We shouldn’t fight. This is a lot to take in. What if we just go to sleep and talk about it more in the morning?” Donny asked.
“Fair enough. But I wasn’t kidding about those Cheetos. Can I get those before we turn in?”
***
Over the next days and weeks Donny and Archie talked and argued. In fact, Archie was never silent. He asked Donny an endless stream of questions and had an equally long list of demands. Donny’s formerly peaceful retreat in the copper hollows of the statue was ruined by his suddenly vociferous twin. Although he felt badly for his brother, Donny refused to be bullied. Archie went on a hunger strike, but gave in when Donny became almost too weak to stand. He then started to bite through his lips and tongue, which hurt Donny as much as it did Archie. But after one especially deep bite, Archie nearly choked on his own blood and abandoned his protest strategy.
In the end Donny and Archie did not leave the statue. They bickered endlessly, miserable with each other but never able to part. Donny longed for the peace and quiet of his early days inside the green lady. One morning, he climbed to a secret compartment in the crook of her elbow, retrieved a bottle of morphine and drank it. Donny drifted to into a permanent and silent sleep under the din of Archie’s protests.