"Do you know why you're my favorite niece? It's because you're the one who's awake. You're the one who sees every situation as though it's new. You can take something ordinary and find what's extraordinary in it, and you can fall into the strangest, most unexpected situations, and act as though you know what's going on."

---

 

16. Lambing Is Like Down
 

As we approached the hospital bed, I had the strangest feeling... a sort of surreal vertigo... not that the world was spinning, just reality itself.

The reason? The woman in the hospital bed looked exactly like the woman walking next to me. It was an uncanny mirror-like effect.

I knew they were twins, identical twins, but I'd never seen them together before — at least, not that I could recall.

"Hi, Aunt Julia," I said shyly.

"Marcie!" she said with a smile. "My favorite niece!"

"You shouldn't say that," Mom gently chided, but Julia pshawed the objection aside. When I got close to the bed, Julia took my hand and held it while she and my mother talked.

They talked about family members I either didn't know or couldn't remember. They talked about their mother, and "what she had." They reminded each other of the medical history of various female members of the Branch family... because, if I haven't mentioned it, my mother's maiden name is Branch. My aunt never married, so her name still is Julia Branch.

During this whole conversation, Julia's eyes never left my mother's face, but she held my hand firmly, and she caressed the back of my hand with her thumb.

I used the time to study the two faces, to listen to the two voices, to notice the two sets of mannerisms. I'd never been with a pair with twins before; I'd never watched twins interact. Identical is a strange word to use about two people, because they were and they weren't. Right away I noticed the physical differences, and knew that I'd never mix them up. Juliette's face was wider, while Julia had a sharper, more aggressively intelligent look. Juliette's hands looked softer and gentler, while Julia's were bonier and — I don't know why this word came to mind, but — more searching. I felt as though she could read my mood through her thumb as it rode across the back of my hand.

After they'd talked for a bit and agreed on the high points of the family medical history, my mother straightened up and tried to unobtrusively wipe away a tear. She said, "Alright. I'm going to go talk with your doctor. Marcie, you can stay and keep your aunt company for a bit. Will you?"

"Sure," I said.

"She'll be fine," my aunt told her, and Mom, smiling uncertainly, left the room, nearly colliding with the door frame as she exited.

"Poor thing," Julia said. "She's worried to death."

"Aren't you worried?" I asked Julia, with some surprise.

"No," she said smiling. "I'm not. Maybe because it's happening to me. I know how it's going to play out." With her eyes, she indicated a chair behind me. "Pull that chair over, will you? Sit with me for a spell. I want to talk with you."

After I got settled, she looked into my eyes and said, "Don't tell anyone, Marcie, but this is it for me. This is the end."

"Did the doctors tell you that?"

"No. It isn't something the doctors did or didn't say. It's something that I know. Can you understand that?"

"I don't know," I told her.

"Okay," she replied. "Then just listen. Sometimes, it isn't hard to be the one who goes. It's much harder to be the one who's left behind. Do you know what I mean?"

"You're talking about Mom," I said.

"Right," she said. "She's going to feel so alone soon, and I want you to help her. I want you watch over her, take care of her."

"Why me?" I asked. I didn't mean to ask it. Really I didn't. It just came out. But honestly, Why me? I was the middle child, I was the stranger. I was the one who popped into this family out of nowhere.

And, if that crazy time-machine story was true, I could disappear tomorrow, or the day after. Who'd take care of Mom then?

And if the time-machine story wasn't true, then something was wrong with me. How could I take care of someone else if I had to be cared for myself?

"Why you?" she echoed. "Because you're the best suited. Cassie is smart and caring, but she's all wrapped up in her own life, and she's about to blast off into college life. Nina's too little. Your father... well, he's a man, and he won't always understand...

"Do you know why you're my favorite niece?" She smiled a proud, affectionate smile at me.

"No," I said, and thought to myself, Lady, I barely know who you *are*.

"It's because you're the one who's awake. You're the one who sees every situation as though it's new. You can take something ordinary and find what's extraordinary in it, and you can fall into the strangest, most unexpected situations, and act like you know exactly what's going on."

I sighed.

"You know it's true," she continued. "Everyone else is asleep! Everyone is locked into their habits... habits of seeing, habits of believing... they do the same things every day, and they think that it's real. It's not. It's all just a game; rules and conventions that people more or less agree upon..."

She stopped abruptly. I waited a few moments, but she didn't continue.

"Are you alright, Aunt Julia?" I asked her. "Are you tired?"

"Tired? No," she replied. As she spoke, a small, square light began to blink behind her, in the wall console, above the head of her bed.

"Aunt Julia?" I asked. "What's that red blinking light for?"

She turned her head to look. "Oh, that's just a warning."

"A warning? For what?" I asked, as I stood to get a better look. The light was flashing red once a second, and as I moved my head closer, I realized that it had the image of a tiny open hand. "It looks like the DON'T WALK signal at a crosswalk," I said, puzzled. "What could it mean?"

"It means, don't walk," Julia laughed. "What else could it mean?"

I frowned and looked into her face. "No, seriously," I said. "What does it mean? Do you know? Is is something bad?"

"Yes, I know what it means, and no, it's nothing bad, but it might be a problem for *you*."

"For me? Why would it be a problem for me?"

She grinned as if it were the greatest joke. "Because, now that that light is flashing, you won't be able to go to the bathroom until you leave the hospital."

I was flabbergasted. "Aunt Julia, admit it: you don't know what that light is for."

She began giggling, and put her hand on my shoulder. "Listen to me, Marcie. I have to tell you something important. It's about lambing."

"Lambing?" I asked. I'd never heard the word before. "Is that like, making lambs?"

She found this almost hysterically funny. "No," she replied. "Lambing is like down."

"Down?" I repeated.

"Down," she said. "You know what down means, don't you?"

"Sure," I said. "You get down off a duck."

Aunt Julia convulsed with laughter at my response, and as she laughed, she pushed my shoulder gently back and forth. "Ha-ha," she said, between her giggles. "Boo-boo. Ha-ha, boo-boo!"

Oh, man! What in the world was going on? "Aunt Julia, please talk normally," I said. "I don't know what the joke is, but you're beginning to make me feel like I'm going crazy." I began to wonder whether she had a brain tumor, and it was affecting her... well, her brain!

At that moment, I heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner — a VERY LOUD vacuum cleaner — in the hall outside. It got even louder when a cleaning lady walked into the room, dragging the vacuum behind her. It was an enormous thing, the size of an oil drum.

"Could you do that later?" I asked, over the din.

"It's all right," Aunt Julia said. "She has to do that. Marcie, look! Ha-ha, boo-boo!" Julia pointed to the TV, which had the sound turned off. On the screen was the face of a clown, a close-up of his white-mouthed face, orange wig, and red nose. He was saying something. The words appeared on the left of the screen in big letters as he spoke, one syllable at a time:

HA
HA
BOO
BOO

The cleaning lady looked up, too. "Yes," she said, as if she knew the program well. "Ha-ha, boo-boo."

"Oh, is that what you were talking about?" I asked Aunt Julia. "I don't know this show. Is this something you watch?"

The cleaning lady gave my aunt a very severe look. "If she wants to use the bathroom," she said, referring to me, "She'll have to wait until she leaves the hospital."

"I'm trying to tell her," my aunt said.

"Is there something wrong with the bathrooms here?" I asked.

"No," the cleaning lady said. "Of course not. You just can't use them."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Marcie," my aunt replied. "It's for the lambing."

"Lambing?" I repeated. "I've never heard of lambing! There's no such thing! And there is nothing on a lamb that's anything like a duck! I'm sorry, but I'm getting really frustrated here. If this is a joke, I wish you'd stop, because it isn't funny."

The cleaning lady gave me a look of great disapproval, which I returned with interest. Who was *she*, to look at me like that?

"Do you mind?" I asked her, "Could you either shut off that vacuum cleaner, or take it out of the room?" After all, she was just standing still, glaring at me, not cleaning at all.

Aunt Julia was nearly overcome with laughter. "Oh, Marcie, you're killing me," she gasped.

When she caught her breath, she shook my shoulder and said, "Wear lambing and ha-ha, boo-boo. Wear lambing!"

But when she spoke, her voice was strange. It had a squeaky, quirky quality that I'd heard before... I knew that voice. It reminded me of the voice of the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz, but without the wickedness. It sounded...

It sounded like Wiggy! Wiggy Wetherwax!

"Wear lambing soon," she repeated, and I as I turned my head to look at her, I somehow opened my eyes, and there was Wiggy, giggling like an idiot. A flight attendant stood behind her, looking very annoyed.

"If she's going to use the bathroom, she's going to have to go right now. Otherwise, she'll have to wait until she gets into the terminal."

"I know," Wiggy said, "I think she's finally awake."

"Awake?" I repeated.

"Yes, Marcie, we're landing in Honolulu," and she burst into giggles. "Or ha-ha boo-boo, to you!" She nearly lost herself in a fit of giggles.

"You slept through the whole flight," she explained, "but they're going to start the landing sequence soon. If you need to go to the bathroom, you have to go right now."

"Yeah, yeah, I do have to go," I said, utterly disoriented, but very aware of my bladder. I began to struggle into a standing position, but something was holding me back.

"Oops!" Wiggy told me, "Careful! You need to undo your seat belt first!"

"Oh, yeah, I'm on it," I told her.

"Okay," she said, scratching her head and fighting back a smile, "Do you need a hand?"

"No, I'm good," I replied, and stumbled down the aisle toward the toilet.
 

---

 

Marcie Donner, I thought, as I sat on the funky plastic seat. I'm Marcie Donner again. Marcie Donner, Marcie Donner. I felt terrible, as though I hadn't bathed for a week, and the smell of the airplane bathroom didn't help.

Someone knocked on the door and said, "You've got to come out now. The captain's turned on the FASTEN SEATBELTS sign, and you have to return to your seat."

"Coming," I mumbled, but I guess she didn't hear because she knocked again and repeated the message.

I made myself presentable and opened the door. As soon as I did, the flight attendant repeated the message a *third* time, walked me back to my seat, and stayed with me until I fastened my seatbelt.

"Wow, she really likes me, doesn't she?" I remarked to Wiggy, who giggled.

"Do you know what happened?" she replied. "She was trying to be nice. Because you slept through the entire flight, she knew you'd need to pee. So when it was almost time to make everybody stay in their seats, she came by to wake you up."

"Oh," I said. "That was nice."

Wiggy giggled some more. "But it was impossible to wake you up! Everything we said or did, you answered in your sleep. You told her—" she couldn't talk for laughing "—you told her—" she wiped her eyes "— you told her to shut off her vacuum cleaner. Whew!" She sniffed and snorted, trying to smother her giggles. "You said, DO YOU MIND?" The man sitting in front of her sighed loudly and shifted noisily in his seat.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "I dreamt she was a cleaning lady with this huge vacuum cleaner." Then I realized. "Oh! The vacuum cleaner was the sound of the plane."

"And you said something about getting down off a truck."

"No, off a duck. You get down off a duck. I thought you were talking about lambing. You said that lambing is like down."

Wiggy smiled. I think she was pretty much laughed out, and I didn't think it was all so funny.

"The best of all was when you said ha-ha boo-boo." Wiggy abrupted snorted with laughter. The man in front of us turned and gave us a very irritated look.

"Sorry," we both said.

"And hey," I said to Wiggy, "speaking of sorry, I'm sorry I was such bad company. But I was just exhausted. And I had the weirdest dream!"

"It sounded like it," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"You were tossing and turning a lot. And every now and then, you said a few things."

"Like what?"

She blew out a breath. "Let's see. At one point you said Pink!? and another time you said, News Flash: It just got old! A few times you said ow!, like something stuck you, and near the end you cried a little bit."

"Oh," I said, shaking my head.

"I'm not surprised," Wiggy said. "After all you've been through? It would be odd if you didn't have strange dreams for a while."

Then she thought for a moment. "Oh, there was one thing you said that I wanted to ask you about. You said, These girls are so stupid!"

"Did I?"

"Yes, and I wanted to ask you: were you talking about the Amazons?"

"The Amazons?" I repeated, as the blonde cheerleaders came back into my memory. "Oh, no, it wasn't them at all. It was these girls in a fairy tale..."

© 2008 by Kaleigh Way

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