Beer and Pastries 2

Benny is already 16-years-old, but unlike his twin brother, Daniel, has never had a girlfriend. The two are fraternal twins (if you haven’t already guessed), so it may come to no surprise that Daniel is a rather good looking guy with a nice set of eyebrows and is very popular among the girls at Rockridge High. Most of the time, I can’t help but feel sorry for Benny, who is constantly reminded that he is in no way better than his younger twin brother.

Despite the size of my family, I have my own room, cozy enough to fit a bed, desk, and a set of drawers comfortably (the twins share a room, of course). I plop on my newly made bunk and finish the tart in a couple of generous bites, ignoring the minuscule crumbs flaking onto the covers. As soon as I finish, my door opens with Benny and Daniel cramming through.

“Alright, fork it over,” says Benny, his lanky arms expecting some sort of offering.

“It’s not for you, Benny,” replies Daniel in my stead. “Be the older brother for once, yeah?” This flips a switch as Benny swings his arms at Daniel.

“You don’t understand, Danny, I never had the chance to be the youngest. Mom and dad never peppered me with sweets and special attention like they once did for you and Eugene.” Even though his remark isn’t directly Daniel’s fault, a wince of guilt appears on the clean-cut face–the bold eyebrows tilting sideways would make young girls sigh. In an Asian family like ours, age holds a heavier importance than in the typical American society. So the four and a half minutes between Benny and Daniel actually operates as more of a nine month buffer between the two.

“C’mon, you know they treated us the same. Equally.”

“And you know you’re full of shit.”

It was typical of the twins to get into such arguments. In fact, they fight all the time, the most amongst the family. Over the years, I’ve witnessed that eventually the twins pipe down and forget about the arguments at hand, until another one arises. The house, without question, would definitely be more peaceful without them. But then again, where’s the fun in that?

“God, Benny. You always have to play the fucking victim. Maybe mom needs to send you to see a psychiatrist. I mean it.”

“Yeah? Well maybe you should come with me then. Let’s just hope the psychiatrist is a woman for your sake. A gay man would be good too.”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” replies Daniel, who has a gist of what Benny is getting at.

Just when the argument is about to turn physical, a third intruder storms into my bedroom.