Schrödinger's Victory

Well, come on, tell me, you did think that from that day my life took a new turn, didn’t you? Not really. So, in a way, it was a turning point. That same evening, I did my best to rip off the badges from my jacket, sweater and shirt, making visible holes in them along the way. What happened next? Come on, anyone? Yes, you got it, there was a talk with my parents. Mom: Benoit, do you know how much your school uniform costs? Dad: Camille, how is he supposed to know that? And that’s not the point. Benoit, what happened? Me: You’ve witnessed my fight against fascism. Mom: What kind of nonsense is it? Who put it in your head? Me: I don’t need anyone to tell me such basic facts. — My inner voice told me not to mention Dave. Dad: This is a serious accusation. Mom: Don’t talk about stuff you know nothing about! Dad: But…to some extent, this statement makes sense. Mom: Stop it. You both are completely crazy! Let’s be grateful for what we have. Dad: And we are, of course, grateful for Benoit — his engineering was definitely not cheap for the state, but these marks… I will talk to the headmaster about them. Mom: It will all end up with Benoit being kicked out, and he will have to go to Groundhog Elementary. — That was the school parents used to scare little children with zero critical thinking skills. Me: They have no right to call me a product, — As you can see, it was extremely easy to brainwash me.

***

Despite Mom’s protests, Dad talked to the principal, and — lo and behold! — PPFU was removed from the badge, but they insisted that I keep the clones’ logo. I continued ripping it off (more carefully) — they began to attach it with velcro. My vocabulary was replenished with such words as “social repressions”, “discrimination”, and “stigmatization”. I still fought on a regular basis in the third grade, but I spent just as much time in the principal’s office, advocating for my rights. I can only guess how much it bugged them all. Sometimes I must have gone too far because, in the fifth grade, Dave (who was graduating that year) said: — Dude, what are you doing? I was about to finish drawing the exclamation point in Fuck Clonism! on the wall of the art block. — Is that how you want to go down in history? Vandalism and foul language? — Somebody is in a bad mood today. You must agree it’s a great new term. — I can agree with that. But still, remember that to be taken seriously, you need to work five times harder than the rest of them. Do you think racism went away on its own? The first black American who went to college could not afford not to be a straight-A student. — Was he? — I don’t know. But I really hope so. Are you ready for the Spanish test? — Si, signor! But why should I bother so much? I might follow in your footsteps, join an exchange program, and learn everything in six short months. — Don’t talk nonsense! — back then I did not understand why Dave, to put it mildly, did not like to talk about his participation in the exchange program in Argentina. — Have already stopped. How are your college applications? — I was admitted to Harvard Law School. — And you’ve been keeping it on the down-low until now?! Isn’t it extra cool? — but seeing the strange expression on his face, I asked less confidently: — It is, right? — It’s not that clear-cut. And I don’t have an obligation to report everything to you. — I didn’t say that.

***

Okay, so, no one has a question, why the hell did an almost adult person spend so much time with a minor me? Any ideas? No no no no no. No! Has anyone said that out loud? Now go and rinse your mouth with holy water, you will have to use it to talk to decent people. I was there and I can guarantee you that there was nothing like that, not even close, not even a shadow of ambiguity. Well, not at that time. To be fair, he did not devote much time to me in the first year, maybe a couple of hours a month. Then the Big Brother, Big Sister project returned to our school, and somehow no question arose of who would be my “big brother”. From that moment on, we had to work together for a couple of hours a week. Dave helped with my homework, and played goaltender when I practiced shots on goal; a couple of times we even went to museums with other fake siblings of ours. And at first, my parents were very pleased. But gradually they began to correlate my, at best, leftist statements with my social circle and easily found out the source of the heresy. An attempt was quickly made to set me up with another high school student, and I started a riot. I begged, shouted that I would run away or kill myself (yes, I was such a cliché), and at the end, having exhausted all the arguments, I burst into tears (and that was at the mature and respectable age of 10!) and asked what I else I should have done if they had lost my real older brother and I had no alternative. Yes, a low blow, but it worked, and I didn’t really care about the moral side of the matter. The perks that I could get from this situation are more or less clear, but what about David, what was in it for him? I think I was his little project that allowed him to perfect some techniques to attract the electorate. Moreover, the Me project was not the only one. And when I found out about that, I, to put it mildly, flew off the handle. Don’t even start to talk about my obsession or selfishness. I was completely chill about his friends, classmates, and parents, I didn’t care at all how much and on what level he communicated with them. Why, even Adam didn’t annoy me. Why even? No, not like that — Adam didn’t annoy me, period. I took him for granted. I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know how, but I’ll try, as I always do. Well, imagine how you feel when you see your grandparents… Okay, it doesn’t work. He and I were never officially introduced to each other, but somehow everything was clear, I did not ask any unnecessary questions. But then I found out that David had been cheating on me! I mean that he had been helping a first-grader to learn to read! And I made a scene. Furthermore, adding insult to injury, the situation became even more absurd as I didn’t know what to accuse him of, i.e. I literally didn’t know what words to say, so the scene consisted of incoherent phrases like: “But you… Why? I…and you”, kicking the wall, screaming with rage and even, at some point, crying. And you know what the funniest thing was? In a way, it worked! Dave waited for a pause in my tearful babbling and asked: — Man, what’s happened? I somehow immediately stopped the stream of accusations against him, sat down and said: — I think Camille hates me. — following David’s example, I began to call my parents by their first names. — That’s too strong a word, but to some extent, you’re right. It nearly took my breath away. — I thought you’d say that I’ve imagined it! — Buddy, it’s obvious even for an outsider. But in the last year, I think it got better. — Nothing of the sort! Do you want to know what happened last week? My aunt from Quebec came to visit us and brought a mossy plush giraffe. Then they started to gush about how they were at the aunt’s on vacation almost forty years ago, and Benoit lost his toy there, and what a grief it was for him! And then Camille turned to me and asked: “You remember Monsieur Luc?” After a millisecond, she realized that she was again wishful thinking, and, — attention! — stopped talking to me for the rest of the day, which makes all the sense in the world, doesn’t it? — Do you already have teenage rebellions? Have you locked yourself in your room, said that you hated them, threatened to run away from home? — Well, no, — I kept silent about the tantrum I threw after they attempted to isolate me from Dave. — They are still my parents. — Damn, I keep forgetting you’re still a kid. Yeah, he was able to construct a phrase in such a way that I simultaneously felt pride and disappointment! — But you should take a break from each other, then it will become clear whether you will miss each other after being apart or feel relieved. — Where can I go for such a break? — I’m going to a camp as a counselor, I can arrange your stay there. But your parents have to sign the permission. — They’ll sign. I have my methods — I immediately perked up. I had rarely been outside the city, never — out of the state, and I had never spent a day without at least one parent. Having heard about the camp I felt terribly mature and independent. The summer promised to be great!

***

The summer was so-so. The camp turned out to be a military and sports kind, and all I did was run from basketball practice to rowing, then to formation, from there to swimming, and in the evening all this magnificence ended in wrestling. I hated wrestling, as I was almost the youngest in the whole camp and, it seemed, the only newbie. It is impossible to count how many fart jokes and supposedly joking tackling there were. I saw one consolation: they bullied me not because of cloneness, but simply for the sake of good ol’ hazing. I hardly ever saw Dave. At first, I had a glimmer of hope that we would at least occasionally chat before going to bed, but it did not work out. When I tried to insist, he simply said: — Adam is leaving for Notre Dame in the fall, we are already incredibly lucky that we ended up in the same camp. I was smart enough not to argue and not to say that we, in fact, would not see each other either. I just muttered: — Whatever. — and went to ask Jenny, who was a head taller than me, out on a date. But the camp was good for everyone. I missed my parents, they also were happy to have me back in one piece and incredibly impressed that there was not a single complaint filed against me. — I’m losing my grip. — I commented. Of course, the next summer I ended up there again, and once more, everything went without a hiccup. And then I turned 13.

***

At this point, you can start wondering why huge periods are missing from my story, and almost everything that is described is somehow connected with David. The explanation is simple — there is nothing interesting about myself. Well, it’s like, imagine if Lincoln’s wife decided to write a book solely about herself — how she goes to the market to buy fish or wipes dust at home, washes not one but two-night shirts when she returns from the country, and finds out that captain Derickson happened to spend the night again (hell, I’m seriously bad at analogies!) — who would even read poor Mary’s stories that look suspiciously like laments? So, yeah, the narrative resumes at the moment Dave arrived for the summer holidays. We hadn’t seen each other for almost the entire academic year, because during the rest of the breaks, he constantly participated in some kind of volunteer projects, competitions, and internships. And when we met that day, at first everything was as usual. — Wow, buddy, you’ve grown! — Dave exclaimed. — Is it something specific to clones? — Yes, this is just one of our many mutations, — I agreed. He was allowed to mention my origin in any context. — How are you, have you become wiser? Have you found out if OJ did it or not? — Did I have to grow wiser to draw any new conclusions there? In my opinion, everything is obvious. — What are your plans for the summer? — I’m going to a training camp. Not as an instructor or a counselor. It’s a kind of military thing, I’ll even be able to shoot there. — Can I go? — Nah, the minimum age is 15. But… Let me ask my father, perhaps, he will come up with something.

***

After a call with General Jenkins, Dave said: — Good news! If you can finish the obstacle course, they’ll put you in the junior cadet squad. — What’s the time? — It’s nice to hear such an ambitious question, but for you, there is no timing, you just have to navigate all the obstacles more or less successfully. Can you do it? — I want to say yes, but I don’t have the slightest idea. — Then let’s go to the training ground and check. The training ground was scorchingly hot but peopleless. — First, I’ll show you how it’s done. — Bragging much? — I want you to understand the general principle. Otherwise, you will do a split on the balance beam instead of just walking it. Dave started the course (trying a bit too much, I thought, for “just a demonstration”). At the first couple of obstacles, I just ran along, pretending to be a crazy sergeant and shouting: “Move, weaklings! Even your mother crawled through this tunnel faster until she got stuck! Faster, ladies!” But when we got to the monkey bars, those minor insults did not suffice for me anymore, I climbed up, ran to the end (which was forbidden by the warning on the sticker slapped on the pole), lay down on the bars, hung my head down and was about to shout something else, but at that very second my world turned upside down. Well, yes, I was lying upside down, but that’s not what I mean! No one believes that a thing like this can happen in an instant, but I swear it was like this for me. Even now, at any moment, I can recall these images in all detail. David approaches me grabbing bar after bar. He had short, sun-bleached hair, bulging muscles in his tanned arms, patches of sweat on his gray Harvard T-shirt, and his charcoal sweatpants traveled to the south, revealing his impressive abs and a patch of untanned skin. It seemed to me that I was electrocuted, which caused different, even opposite reactions in different parts of my body. I forgot to breathe and blink. It lasted for a couple of seconds, I guess, but so much happened that it was like a quarter of an hour for me, and when David reached me, I already imagined that scene with an upside-down kiss from Spider-Man. Of course, no kisses happened, but Dave noticed my, apparently more than just a bit strange, expression. He landed and asked: — What’s the matter, sergeant? Sunstruck? — and ran on. I didn’t know where to hide and thought it was best to stay up there. He emerged from the tunnel and, turning around, shouted: — Where are you? — I’ll…stay here. I can see you better from up here. — shit! I should have said something witty, come on, brain! But instead of the brain, there was a blue screen, on which cropped images emerged from time to time: his biceps, the line where his tan ended, his upturned face… Having finished the course, Dave came up and asked more honestly: — Are you okay? What can one answer in such a situation? The brain finally rebooted and sent me a message: “You will not be able to function in the camp. You will be constantly speechless, stupid, and disoriented, and in a week you will be kicked out for being a complete idiot”. On the second try, I was able to say: — Perhaps, next year? — As you wish. — I felt that he was disappointed in me. And how I was disappointed in myself! After all, I wanted to go there more than anything in the world! Not that I was attracted by all the military drilling, but this was the only opportunity to be close to David. On the way back, without looking at me, he said: — There’s nothing wrong with that. I, too, find those bars terribly attractive. The situation just screamed for a light, cheerful comment to defuse the tension! But I could only die of shame and keep silent, staring out the window. My behavior was super suspicious. Or was I becoming paranoid?

***

During the next school year, I checked if I imagined the whole thing or not. What was the design of my 100% scientific experiment? I was staring at guys, that’s all. I realized with surprise that I began to consider several of them more attractive than the rest, but I never had that reaction. This discovery allowed me to breathe easier and return to hockey practice, which I had suspended due to my newfound fear of locker rooms and showers. Then I was struck by the thought that, perhaps, I was considering the wrong age category. And I began to ogle the teachers. One of them even asked me to stay after the class and asked: — Benoit, is there anything you want to talk about? — My name is Matthew, — I corrected him because I had finally changed my name. — No, but thanks for the offer. And by the way, cool shirt. No, the teachers didn’t awaken my instincts either. But I couldn’t just laugh it off and forget. The very first second I saw Dave again, everything came rushing back. Oh, what an effort it took me not to turn into a stuttering idiot! I told myself: “It’s the same David! Nothing has changed!” But it wasn’t true, damn it! We never discussed it, but I hope against hope that he did not notice my clumsy attempts at flirting back then. But my tight tank tops and my pierced eyebrows (do you have any idea how difficult it was to get it done?! Even with permission from my parents, at my age, it was forbidden to punch holes in minor me, so I had to turn to the unscrupulous sister of a dude from my team who was studying to be a beautician. Dad, seeing the result, only muttered: “Oh my God,” Mom could not help but note that “Benoit would never…”) were impossible to overlook. Dave made a single comment: — You’ll have to take this shit off. — Anything you want, — I said, as I thought, languidly, and pulled my T-shirt up (what did I say about terrible flirting skills? Just have some mercy and kill me!). — Did you happen to have started smoking something while I was away? I’m talking about this ring in your face, otherwise, you might and probably will leave it along with your scalp on the barbed wire. Yes, I did go to the camp, because the prospect of another summer of heartache, suffering, and longing did not appeal to me. There I proclaimed my undying love for him. Well, maybe not in the sense you imagine it…

***

One evening, Dave brought me to the shooting range, even though it was an outrageous violation of the rules: junior cadets were not even allowed to look directly at weapons yet. There he took time to explain all the safety precautions, but I couldn’t wait to get at it. The pistol was unexpectedly heavy, and my stance looked skewed rather than impressive. He came up behind me to correct the position of my hands, and I almost fainted. — Try not to shoot the floor. Aim. Don’t shoot without my permission. — he put ear muffs on me, and instead of silence, I heard very loud classical music. — What’s that, you freak? — I took off the pro. — Helps me focus, — he explained. — It’s Wagner, in case you couldn’t tell. — In case you couldn’t tell! — I repeated. — You are so gay sometimes. — Don’t downplay it. Not sometimes, all the time. Shoot already. — He put the second pair of ear pro on himself and went to the next booth. When I finally hit a three, he turned to me and smiled, and I said: — I think I love you. He took off his muffs and asked: — Sorry? — I suck at shooting, — I said quickly turning away. — Come on, you’re doing great for a newbie. But I don’t know when we’ll be able to do it again. — Well, if you put in more effort in that instead of trying to get in the boathouse at every opportunity… — Trouvaille, are you out of your mind? Have you been following me? — No, I’m just worried about your moral character. — My moral character is just fine, and if you pull anything like this again, you will go home. Understood? — Yes, sir, — I turned to the target and planted a bullet in the very…edge.

***

It’s hard to admit it, but I became terribly jealous. How terribly? Quite. I was just jealous of his whole squad, any person who appeared within two feet of him, anyone he spoke on the phone with…and even women! It’s pathological, I know, but my restraint was only enough not to make a scene. But nothing could stop me from dreaming of their imminent painful deaths. If looks could kill, Jorge would certainly fall first. Because, seriously? He was even shorter than me! Fortunately, that camp arranged such insane drills and training sessions every day that there was little time for extraneous thoughts, otherwise, I would definitely either go crazy or get into a fight with Jorge. But there I just called him a fag a couple of times (ironic, huh?) and tried to make it sound offensive. All in all, the summer ended at nothing.

***

The next summer I was accepted to the camp without any tests. And, oddly enough, I enjoyed the camp itself, not just meeting David. I was 15, and hoped I would be allowed to disassemble machine guns or be taught the basics of demining (yeah, dreams! We were only shown presentations of how mines work), but, fortunately, David once again took me in secret to the shooting range on a couple of occasions. The last night of the camp we were at the range too. When we ran out of bullets, we stayed to drink illegal beer, and Dave said: — Next year I’m going to grad school at Columbia or West Point. — But in this case… — I leaned helplessly against the wall. — Yes, — he nodded and finally looked straight at me. — I probably won’t be able to come over for the summer. — And what about me? — Dude, you’re almost an adult. I don’t think you need me anymore. — I do need you! Are you completely blind?! I think it is already obvious to everyone in the country that I love you. — yeah, panic made me brave. — Me too, buddy, me too. — No! Fuck! Enough with buddies already! — I can understand the reason…given our history… — Shut up! Can’t you talk to me like a normal human being? Yes, it turned into a very romantic conversation… — So should I shut up or talk? — Don’t be a smartass! — It’s not that I haven’t noticed anything, but I honestly thought that you had this phase when everything that moves…ahem…stimulates you. — Not everything! No one and nothing but you. — Wow, Matt, I don’t know what to say. — No, you do know! Say that you love me too, and we will not spend a single day apart, — I was joking. Partially. — Oh yeah, sure! But seriously, I’m somehow more surprised than I should be. There was nothing more to lose, and I took the last step. — You will deal with philosophical reflections later, and now — kiss me. — Okay. Judging by how quickly he agreed, he was about to give me a peck on the cheek, so I acted quickly and grabbed him with all my might. You know how some people say: “It’s a moment to die for”? I fully understand it! Then and there it was all the same to me if the planet went out of its orbit or the underworld swallowed us — I would die the happiest person in the universe! Everything, all the platitudes that you’ve heard about such moments — it all proved to be true. Multiply it by the fact that I did not even hope that it could happen… So…I turned out to be a very unrestrained and emotional person (what a surprise!), and my moans could probably be heard in Mexico. And the most amazing thing was that Danny did not resist! It was very thoughtful of him to press me against the wall because I could faint at any moment. All that kept happening until the second I put my hand down his pants. He immediately stepped away and said, slightly out of breath: — This is a bit too much. — Please. I want… — I see. I will not deny the obvious, it did not leave me unaffected either, but you have to slow down. — Why? — Would you like me to give you all the reasons, or will it be enough to mention that I might go to jail for this? — I will not tell anyone. — I do not doubt that, but no. And I’m not going to argue about it. — Then you shouldn’t have started it. — Oh yeah? I think it was exactly what you asked for. — Well, can I ask you for something else? — I tried to catch the zipper of his sweatshirt but was stopped at that too. — Knock it off. I should have known about this drive of yours. Someone will be incredibly lucky. — Actually, that “someone” is you. — No. Unfortunately not. Oh god, what am I talking about? I shouldn’t say anything like that with you around! And, please, could you stop trying to get on your knees? I slid back up to the level of his face in displeasure and proclaimed triumphantly: — You said it! But you’re right, it might not be safe here. Is your car in the parking lot? — I can’t believe I’m saying this… — Dave pressed his forehead against mine. — If you do not want this to be our last time meeting in this life, listen to me carefully. — I’m listening. — I put his hand on my waist. Well, not quite on the waist… — God! How did this get so far? Just 15 minutes ago everything was so clear! Sadly, nothing is possible right now. I said nothing! Stop grabbing my ass! — I’m just curious. — I reluctantly let go. — I’ve never grabbed anyone’s ass before. — Really? You’ll get enough of it soon. But until you turn 18, we need to control ourselves. There should be nothing compromising or ambiguous, not even messages or notes. Matthew, this is serious. Any careless move can destroy my career prospects completely. And that’s the best-case scenario. — But three years is so long! Do you swear that you will come back to me? — As you rightly pointed out, three years is a very long time. Anything can happen. But I beg you, let’s not make a drama, don’t sacrifice anything for me. Just enjoy your life and date your peers. Two minors can do whatever they want, provided they mutually consent. I’m sure you won’t have to look for long. — Okay. — Did you really understand me? — Yes. I’m leaving, since you are such a prude, — I quickly kissed him goodbye and went to mature.