Challenge 209 response

by Jean Goldstrom

Dan Malach’s “Together Forever” suggests a question: What happens when one Siamese twin dies before the other? Rewrite the story mentally by converting the twins to an elderly but otherwise normal married couple. What does the story gain or lose?

“Together Forever” tells about a Siamese twin whose twin has died. Usually, Siamese twins die at the same time, I believe, according to recorded information. But the living twin, in this case, despairs because his twin has gone and left him behind. The conclusion of the story suggests, however, that he will soon join his twin in death.

Suppose the story were rewritten, about an elderly couple who were close and loving, although not Siamese twins. They both feared the time when death would separate them:

She: “It won’t separate us for long.”

He: “I hope not. I couldn’t exist without you.”

She: “What do you mean, you hope not? Dammit, you have to insist!! You must have some rights.”

He laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

She: “You’d better do better than that. If you die first, I want to hear from you, understand.”

He just smiled. “I’ll try.”

She was almost angry, now. “Remember how Yoda said, “Try not — DO!”

After he died, she felt as if every star had winked out and the sun shone only cold. She prepared for his funeral as though walking through a dream or drug-induced haze. She did not weep. She made the arrangements.

The night before the funeral, she got out the ouija board, the one they had had so much fun with over the years. She called the being who had always answered when the board was used.

“Jeff, dear, are you there?” she asked.

“Of course. But there’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”

“???” she wrote.

Then the feel of the planchette changed. She knew, from many years use, that this meant someone else was going to “speak” — actually, write — through the planchette.

Slowly, laboriously, the planchette moved. It inchingly spelled out, “L-a-d-y J., I l-o-v-e y-o-u....” and faded out.

Her tears fell on the board. He had always called her “Lady J.” “I knew you could call if you told them you were going to. Are you all right, dearest?”

Again, slowly, the planchette moved. “Y...e...s... t-h-i-s i-s n-e-w w-a-y t-o t-a-l-k. I w-i-l-l l l-e-a-r-n...”

“I love you, sweetheart,” she said, as her tears again fell on the board, now tears of joy. Now she could face the funeral tomorrow. And when she came home, she wouldn’t have to kill herself after all.