We wipe up the rest with our sleeping bag. It smells of stuffed toys.
As I passed the twins’ room, I was surprised to find the door open. It was still early and it was rare they were up this early on a Saturday morning. I entered cautiously. The beds were messy, but empty. Had they gotten up while I was in the shower?
After a brief tour of the house, I realized they weren’t there. The night before, we’d had dinner together, and they’d gone back to their room while I watched a movie on Netflix. I went to bed early. Had their bedroom door been closed then? I thought it had. Had they gone out after that? Had they slept here? Slowly putting together the situation, I began to panic, worrying they’d had some kind of accident. I called Gregory immediately, forgetting he was in British Columbia, where it was still nighttime.
“The twins aren’t home—I don’t know where they are! I don’t even know whether they slept at home. I tried calling them, but they’re not answering, as usual.” I was in tears.
Gregory was sound asleep on the other end of the line and struggled to understand what I was telling him.
“Emma, listen, calm down. They’re almost sixteen. It was Friday night. They’ve probably been out partying and will be home soon. You just have to explain to them that it’s important they tell you where they are if they don’t spend the night at home, that’s all.”
“But they never go out at night—”
“Emma, it’s okay if they go out with friends. That’s what we want.”
“That’s what we want?” I sniffled, trying to calm down.
“I’m tired, Emma. It’s five in the morning here. Wait a few more hours, and if they haven’t come home by noon, call me. Otherwise, text me and tell me where they were, okay? I’m sure it’ll be fine. Stop worrying. And don’t punish them when they come home. It’s important that they have friends.”
I made myself a coffee and sat on the couch, scanning the sidewalk from the window for their return. A stream of people walked their dogs past, but I didn’t see the twins. I waited for a long time, and was going to make myself a second cappuccino when at last the front door opened.
“Finally! Where were you?”
They were puffy-eyed, rumpled, and dishevelled. They had obviously been out partying all night. It took them a moment before they decided to answer.
“We were with friends.”
I took a long inhale. “Were you drinking?”
“No.” They crinkled their noses as though I’d said something absurd.
“It’s important that you tell me if you’re not coming home to sleep. I was so worried. I need to know where you’re spending the night. I would have called the police if Daddy hadn’t reasoned with me.”
They looked at me like they hadn’t understood a word.
School started back up. All our classes were boring, except for technology. Our teacher, Ariel, lets us call him by his first name. It’s his first year teaching. He is taller than us. His face is covered by a powerful beard, which blends in with his bushy hair. Gregory also has a beard, but his is grey. They don’t look anything alike. Ariel’s voice is deep and calm, and his words seem to flow like liquid. We have tried to imitate him, but no matter how we try, we can’t get it right. Our voice is sharp, with ridiculous accents. We’ve always hated it.
Technology is the only class we have together. Our other classes are at different times, but we can see each other at lunch. We sit together in the cafeteria. One day, Mathilde comes and sits at our table. We didn’t know she went to our school. Behind us, people whisper.
“I haven’t seen you at the silo lately.”
She puts her tray down in front of us.
“I have something else to show you if you want.”
We meet up with her after school.
We follow her, walking our bikes, since she’s on foot. On the way, she stops to say hi to several friends. It’s annoying.
We end up in a dirty alleyway covered in graffiti, where the College Street restaurants keep their garbage bins. There’s as much garbage on the ground as in the receptacles. The stink of piss and vomit is suffocating. Filth sticks to the wheels of our bikes and leaves a muddy trail behind them.
Mathilde stops in front of a metal door with no handle and knocks. The door opens onto a steep staircase. We follow her and the boy in the apron before her. They lead us into a dark room that acts as storage for the restaurant we’ve just entered through the service door.
A series of metal shelves holds rows of cardboard boxes, sacks of rice, and white dishware. The worker nods at Mathilde and leaves. Nothing in the room interests us.
“It’s twenty dollars for a blowjob,” says Mathilde.
We raise our eyebrows and cross our arms. Pay for that? When we can manage perfectly fine on our own?
“Hurry up, we don’t have much time. Who goes first?”
Well, since we’re here…
“The lady next door says the boys robbed her.”
Gregory had just stepped in the door, but I had to tell him right away.
“She’s completely paranoid. She says they’re going into her house in the middle of the night.”
I threw this information at him before he could even respond. He stood in the front hall, his arms loaded with polystyrene containers, and ended up going around me to get to the kitchen and put down the takeout dishes.
“She’s lost her mind is all,” he said, hoping to end the discussion.
“No kidding. What if she calls the police?”
I was in a panic and Gregory didn’t seem to understand why. To him, I was completely overreacting.
“Where are the boys, anyway?” he asked.
“They’re not home yet. They should be along any minute.” I calmed down a bit.
We had decided we wouldn’t monitor their comings
