Hey,â he took his gaze off me and stared at the mantel, âwhere did that come from?â
I silently answered him by pointing to the hole in the shelf.
âWeird. Must have been trapped in the wall. All these years . . .â As he walked closer to inspect the small toy, a slight breeze blew through the room drawing his attention away. âHey, when I was outside, I noticed the attic window was open. You must have left it open when you were up there.â He rubbed his hands over his upper arms.
âNo,â I thought back to that first day in the house. âIâm sure I closed it.â And I was sure. Iâd been in a hurry to escape the attic after listening to the breathing in the phone. But Iâd definitely walked back across the room to close the window. Anyway, I would have noticed it was open by now. I had since been back up there.
âI was just outside and saw it open. The house is freezing. Just go take a look and close it,â he sighed falling onto the sofa and removing his glasses. âAnd clean up that stuff while youâre at it,â he gestured eagerly toward the train as if he couldnât stand the sight of it. One more riddle I had to figure out on my own.
I approached the attic door tentatively, the tin model train resting quietly in my palm. I climbed the stairs of my own free will, but I had a sinking feeling that I was being summoned. And Dad was right. The stairs were much colder than the rest of the house. The window had to be open, but I wasnât the one who had opened it. Before I reached the top of the stairs, the telephone jumped to life.
Gerhard and his twin brother, Lars, were different in as many ways as they were alike. In appearance, one was a carbon copy of the other. In mind and disposition, however, they were as different as could be. People said they were separate sides of the same coin, made of the same metal, but looking out at the world from opposite angles.
No sooner were Lars and Gerhard born that the family bestowed them nicknames: Lyckliga Lasse och Gamla Gerhard. Lucky Lasse and Old Gerhard. One twin arrived in the world smaller than the other, close to death with a weak little chest; the other twin was big, red-faced, and healthy. Eventually, Lasseâs lungs developed into great, loud noisemakers, and Gerhardâs eyes, even as an infant, were pensiveâthe eyes of an old soul. Both survived to live up to their names.
Lasse was never temperate; he either loved without abandon or got so angry the ground seemed to shake beneath him. There was no limit to how much Lasse could feel. Because of this, people didnât know what to make of him. Some shook their heads at him disapprovingly, others sought him out just to hear him laugh. And Gerhard? Well, Gerhard was happy to stand back and watch.
But one afternoon in their fifteenth year, Gerhard was mistaken for his brother.
âCome on, Lasse!â a crowd of boys chanted as they flailed their arms wildly beckoning for him to join. âWeâre going down to the beach!â There was something in the way the boys hollered and jumped, something in their youthful grins that made Gerhard incapable of telling them the truth. He didnât want to disappoint them, so he spent the rest of the day as Lyckliga Lasse Magnusson.
Heâd never anticipated such an adventure. All afternoon he said and did things heâd never dare do as himself. But as Lasse, he was fearless. He skinny-dipped on the shore before winning an impromptu boxing match with another boy from the adjacent town; he stole a neighborâs horse for a sunset ride and took off, bareback, through golden fields of rapeseed. It was one of the greatest days of his life.
That evening, he walked home with a new sense of confidence and wonder.
Things are going to be different after today , heâd told himself. I am going to be different.
But as soon as he spied his house in the distance something
I silently answered him by pointing to the hole in the shelf.
âWeird. Must have been trapped in the wall. All these years . . .â As he walked closer to inspect the small toy, a slight breeze blew through the room drawing his attention away. âHey, when I was outside, I noticed the attic window was open. You must have left it open when you were up there.â He rubbed his hands over his upper arms.
âNo,â I thought back to that first day in the house. âIâm sure I closed it.â And I was sure. Iâd been in a hurry to escape the attic after listening to the breathing in the phone. But Iâd definitely walked back across the room to close the window. Anyway, I would have noticed it was open by now. I had since been back up there.
âI was just outside and saw it open. The house is freezing. Just go take a look and close it,â he sighed falling onto the sofa and removing his glasses. âAnd clean up that stuff while youâre at it,â he gestured eagerly toward the train as if he couldnât stand the sight of it. One more riddle I had to figure out on my own.
I approached the attic door tentatively, the tin model train resting quietly in my palm. I climbed the stairs of my own free will, but I had a sinking feeling that I was being summoned. And Dad was right. The stairs were much colder than the rest of the house. The window had to be open, but I wasnât the one who had opened it. Before I reached the top of the stairs, the telephone jumped to life.
Gerhard and his twin brother, Lars, were different in as many ways as they were alike. In appearance, one was a carbon copy of the other. In mind and disposition, however, they were as different as could be. People said they were separate sides of the same coin, made of the same metal, but looking out at the world from opposite angles.
No sooner were Lars and Gerhard born that the family bestowed them nicknames: Lyckliga Lasse och Gamla Gerhard. Lucky Lasse and Old Gerhard. One twin arrived in the world smaller than the other, close to death with a weak little chest; the other twin was big, red-faced, and healthy. Eventually, Lasseâs lungs developed into great, loud noisemakers, and Gerhardâs eyes, even as an infant, were pensiveâthe eyes of an old soul. Both survived to live up to their names.
Lasse was never temperate; he either loved without abandon or got so angry the ground seemed to shake beneath him. There was no limit to how much Lasse could feel. Because of this, people didnât know what to make of him. Some shook their heads at him disapprovingly, others sought him out just to hear him laugh. And Gerhard? Well, Gerhard was happy to stand back and watch.
But one afternoon in their fifteenth year, Gerhard was mistaken for his brother.
âCome on, Lasse!â a crowd of boys chanted as they flailed their arms wildly beckoning for him to join. âWeâre going down to the beach!â There was something in the way the boys hollered and jumped, something in their youthful grins that made Gerhard incapable of telling them the truth. He didnât want to disappoint them, so he spent the rest of the day as Lyckliga Lasse Magnusson.
Heâd never anticipated such an adventure. All afternoon he said and did things heâd never dare do as himself. But as Lasse, he was fearless. He skinny-dipped on the shore before winning an impromptu boxing match with another boy from the adjacent town; he stole a neighborâs horse for a sunset ride and took off, bareback, through golden fields of rapeseed. It was one of the greatest days of his life.
That evening, he walked home with a new sense of confidence and wonder.
Things are going to be different after today , heâd told himself. I am going to be different.
But as soon as he spied his house in the distance something
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