Awakening
In the beginning, I am in the dark, always.
I am trapped, unable to move. Time is meaningless but I know much of it passes before I realize that I am not alone.
A memory I have long since dealt with resurfaces, bringing with it an unfamiliar grief. My confusion sparks anger in the Other. More memories are pulled to the spotlight without any intention on my part. A montage of other children being treated better than I was in the memory; a case for grief, for anger.
It is the first conversation I have with my twin.
---
Our birth passes in a haze of confusion but we recover enough to hear the names spoken by our father.
“Inomi and Inori,” he tells the nurse.
‘Inomi.’ My sister is enamored with the name.
‘Inori.’ Our satisfaction grows with each echo across to each other.
We are named. We are real.
The nurse approaches our mother again and-
I-
hurts
where-
---
We are together again when the pain and confusion dissipate, arms touching shoulder to elbow as we lie on our backs.
‘What happened?’ Inomi asks.
Words will not come. All I can answer with is fear.
It grows with each echo as well.
---
We begin to call it Disconnecting within a few days, the assault that comes without physical contact. We assume it is our brains reacting to the shock of being suddenly alone.
Luckily, we are not separated often.
---
Our parents call both of us ‘Ino.’ Inomi has decided that they cannot tell us apart. I think it may be a pet name in this language we do not yet speak.
Debating it is a good way to pass the time between naps.
---
One night, when we are several weeks old, we are not put to bed in matching clothing.
The next morning, Inomi is in my clothes.
‘More than just your clothes.’
A realization dawns in one of our minds. ‘They call us both Ino.’
‘They know.’
---
Our eyesight develops slowly enough that we are almost one before we realize where we are. Who we are.
The headbands are a dead giveaway for where. And our father is the only Inoichi we know of.
---
Inomi worries constantly over the next few days that I will die young, that we always would have been twins. She remembers just enough from our earliest days to know I am the one who read these stories in another world.
‘Canon-Ino would have done things differently if she’d known,’ I point out.
‘What if I forget without you?’ Inomi’s distress is difficult to think through. ‘You can’t leave me. I won’t do this without you.’
‘I’m not going anywhere. I can’t even walk yet.’ The joke falls flat in both our minds.
‘Promise me.’
‘Inomi, you know I won’t leave if there’s a choice.’
‘Then it should be an easy promise.’
I nudge my hand over, so our pinkies touch.
‘I promise.’
Inomi’s frustration and terror swell and break against my helpless resignation for several minutes.
‘You can’t leave me,’ she says again. ‘I won’t make it on my own.’
I can’t lie to Inomi any more than I can lie to myself. For the first time, we both wish I could.