Forget about it, I told myself. The writing's on the wall. You're a housepainter.

Domenico's manuscript stayed under the bed.

I'd call Ray the next next day, I told myself. I'd already accomplished day, I told myself. I'd already accomplished plenty plenty. I turned the TV on, turned it off again. Reached over for the Rolodex.

Shea, Sherwin-Williams, Sheffer . . .

She'd been thinking about me a lot, she said. I had been such such a good brother. She just wanted to make sure I wasn't beating myself up about things. a good brother. She just wanted to make sure I wasn't beating myself up about things.

I thanked her-told her I hadn't KO'd myself just just yet. I decided to skip the counterargument I yet. I decided to skip the counterargument I could could have given her about what a good brother I'd been. have given her about what a good brother I'd been.

She wanted to know what else was new-what I'd been up to.

813 813.

Not much, I said. I was trying to decide whether or not to sell my business.

"Really?" she said. "You don't feel like painting houses anymore?"

"I don't feel like falling off roofs anymore."

Somewhere during the conversation, I figured out something: Sheffer Sheffer felt guilty. She'd been beating her felt guilty. She'd been beating her self self up. It had been her idea to put Thomas in Hope House, the place he'd wandered away from that night. When they'd sprung him so unexpectedly from Hatch, Sheffer had made an issue of how the group home would be a much safer temporary environment for him than my place. up. It had been her idea to put Thomas in Hope House, the place he'd wandered away from that night. When they'd sprung him so unexpectedly from Hatch, Sheffer had made an issue of how the group home would be a much safer temporary environment for him than my place.

"Look, Lisa," I said. "I want you to know something, okay? Nobody's blaming you for anything. You did everything you could for him and then then some-up to and including getting whacked in the face at that hearing. We'd some-up to and including getting whacked in the face at that hearing. We'd all all be a bunch of geniuses if we had hindsight ahead of time." be a bunch of geniuses if we had hindsight ahead of time."

She said Dr. Patel had told her basically the same thing. She'd started seeing Dr. Patel, by the way. Professionally. Not to be nosy, but was I I still seeing her? still seeing her?

"Uh, yeah," I said. "Off and on." So much for confidentiality.

Sheffer advised me to discuss my decision about the painting business with Dr. Patel-that she might be able to help me "objec-tify" my options. Social worker talk.

"I have have talked about it with her," I said. talked about it with her," I said.

"And?"

"She thinks I should pack it in. Go back to teaching." Sheffer said she could picture me in front of a high school class.

I could, too-that was the problem: I kept seeing those two little tough cookies I'd stood behind at Subway. Kept remembering those students' faces that day I'd cried in front of them. That day I'd left my classroom and never gone back. Diana Montague, Randy Cleveland, Josie Tarbox. Those kids must all be in their midtwenties by now. Out of college, into adult lives. Kids of their own, now, some of them.

"Yeah, well," I told Sheffer. "I may sell the business, I may not. I'm still weighing my options. But anyway, I'm grateful for everything you did for my brother. I mean it, Lisa. Thanks."

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"Hey, you know what?" she said. "Would you like to get together sometime? Come over for dinner? I can make you my Jewish-Italian specialty: spaghetti and matzoh balls?" I started stammering something about appreciating the invitation but but- "I'm not asking you out, out, " she said. "If that's what you think. I'm asking you " she said. "If that's what you think. I'm asking you over over."

"Oh," I said. "Well. . . ."

"I'm not hitting on you, paisano. paisano. Honest. I'm gay, Dominick." Honest. I'm gay, Dominick."

"Oh. Right. I didn't think . . . I mean, I don't have a problem with . . . You are are?"

She suggested we start over. "Hello, Dominick? This is Lisa Sheffer. You want to come over some night for supper? Meet my daughter and my partner, Monica?"

I didn't know what else to say, so I said okay. Asked her what I could bring.

"Bottle of chianti and a bottle of Mogen David," she said. "We'll mix 'em."

"They were so much alike," I said. "In some ways, they they were more like identical twins than he and I were." were more like identical twins than he and I were."

"Thomas and your mother? Yes? Explain, please."

Over the phone, I'd told her what I had and hadn't acomplished on my list. She'd given me bonus points for having made dinner plans with Sheffer-for having "engaged outwardly" instead of continuing my "love affair with inertia." Her Majesty had granted me a two o'clock appointment.

"I don't know. They were both so gentle. So defenseless. . . . Every year she'd go to parent-teacher conferences and come back and we'd be like, 'What did she say? What did the teacher say?' And every year, one teacher after the next, it'd be the same thing: how smart I I was, how sweet was, how sweet he he was. That was always the word they used: Thomas was so was. That was always the word they used: Thomas was so 'sweet.' And he was, too. He just was was. But . . ."

"Yes? Go on."

"He was weak weak. Just like she was. . . . I had to take care of both of them. And I think . . ."

815 815.

She waited several seconds. "You think what, Dominick?"

"I think . . . oh, man, this is hard . . . I think that was why she loved him more. Because both of them were so goddamned powerless. . . . It was like they were soul mates or something."

Dr. Patel sipped her tea. Waited.

"Do you think . . . ?" I stopped, stymied by how to put it. My hands started to shake.

"What is it, Dominick? Ask me."

"No, I was just thinking yesterday that maybe that's that's how she got pregnant. . . . I mean, it would explain a lot. Wouldn't it?" how she got pregnant. . . . I mean, it would explain a lot. Wouldn't it?"

Doc Patel said she wasn't following me.

"She was always so scared to death of everything. So powerless.

So I was thinking: maybe she got raped."

"Raped by . . . ?"

"I don't know. By some stranger. Maybe our father was just some miscellaneous son of a bitch who grabbed her, pulled her into a dark alley someplace, and . . ."

I stood up, went over by the window. Rocked back and forth on my heels.

"It's not like she would have fought back or anything. I know know she wouldn't have. She probably didn't even know what sex was until . . . she wouldn't have. She probably didn't even know what sex was until . . .

She probably wouldn't even have known what he was doing."

"No? You think not?"

I looked out the window. The river was moving fast. The trees were budding. In another week or two, those unfolding leaves would obscure Doc Patel's view of the water. I turned back and faced her.

"This one time? We were pretty young, Thomas and me-seven or eight, maybe. And we were on the city bus: the three of us."

"Your mother, Thomas, and you?"

I nodded. "We'd gone to the movies, I remember, and then over to the five-and-ten for sodas. And we were on our way back home, okay?

On the bus. And . . . and this crazy guy gets on. Walks down the aisle and sits across from us. . . . Across from Thomas and me. He pushes in right next to my mother."

"Go on, please, Dominick. You're safe here. Let it go."

816 816.

"And he starts . . . feeling her. Touching her. Sniffing Sniffing at her." at her."

"Be yourself on the bus for a moment. Are you afraid?"

"Yes."

"Angry?"

"Yes! " "

"What does your mother do, Dominick? The man is touching her and she-"

"Nothing! That's what she does: nothing! She just sits there because she's so . . . so weak weak and . . . " and . . . "

Dr. Patel handed me the Kleenex box. "She doesn't scream? She doesn't get up and tell the bus driver?"

"No! And I hated hated that! . . . She was always so that! . . . She was always so afraid. afraid. " "

"On the bus. At home with Ray."

"It wasn't fair fair! I was just a kid kid!"

"What wasn't fair, Dominick?"

"I had to defend all three of us. Myself, and him, him, and and her her. And even then . . . even when I did . . ." I was sobbing now; I couldn't help it.

"And even then, although you protected her and and your brother-fought your brother-fought both both of their battles for them-even then, she loved your brother more than you?" of their battles for them-even then, she loved your brother more than you?"

My head jerked up and down, up and down. I couldn't speak.

Couldn't stop wailing at the truth.

The boys have the muscles! The coaches have the brains!

The girls have the sexy legs so let's play the game!

Sheffer's daughter, Jesse, shook her pom-poms like she meant it.

She'd befriended me even before I'd gotten both feet in the door.

Within the first half-hour of my visit, I'd been brought down to the basement to see her gerbils, up to her room to see her Barbies. Now I was out on the driveway so I could see her Midget Football cheerleader moves. Sheffer and Monica stood flanking me while Jesse turned cartwheels. "My theory is that Olivia Newton-John went into labor the same day and they mixed up our babies in the nurs- 817 817.

ery," Sheffer said, under her breath. "There's just no other explanation."

Monica was a rugged six-footer from Kittery. She and another woman ran a small home-repair business. Womyn's Work, they called themselves.

"So how's business?" I asked her, my chin pointing toward her pickup, parked in the driveway. Jesse had fallen, midcheer, and scraped her knee. She and her mom had gone inside for a Band-Aid. Monica held her arm out and gave a thumbs-down.

"Couple of years ago? When we started up? We figured that in this this economy, everyone's just holding on to what they've got-fixing things up instead of building new. But it's been leaner than we figured it'd be. My partner and I are good-we're economy, everyone's just holding on to what they've got-fixing things up instead of building new. But it's been leaner than we figured it'd be. My partner and I are good-we're damn damn good-but you've got to get past people's biases." good-but you've got to get past people's biases."

"Like what?" I said.

"Like, that you need a penis in order to swing a hammer or knock down a wall." She laughed. "No offense, there, hombre. hombre. Lisa says you're a housepainter?" Lisa says you're a housepainter?"

"Technically," I said. "Maybe not much longer."

"That's what Lisa said." She and her business partner were trying to diversify a little, she told me-pick up some landscaping work, maybe maybe some painting jobs. They were going to decide at the end of the season whether or not they could keep the boat afloat. "If not, I can always go back to my paying job," she said. "Systems analyst. some painting jobs. They were going to decide at the end of the season whether or not they could keep the boat afloat. "If not, I can always go back to my paying job," she said. "Systems analyst. Bor Bor-ing."

After dinner, Jesse had to give me two two goodnight hugs before Monica piggybacked her up to bed, Sheffer trailing behind them with a stack of laundry. Monica came back down first. goodnight hugs before Monica piggybacked her up to bed, Sheffer trailing behind them with a stack of laundry. Monica came back down first.

"Jesse's a cutie," I said. "Miss Cheerleader, huh?"

"Miss Pain in the Butt, usually," Monica said. "But she's a good kid. Throws a baseball like a girl, though."

I smiled. Asked her how she and Lisa had met.

At the women's shelter over in Easterly, she said. She'd done some pro bono carpentry work for them the year before and ended up on their Board of Directors.

"Yeah? Is Lisa on the board, too?" I said.

818 818.

Monica averted her eyes. "Nope. Hey, you want a beer?"

We went out to the kitchen. Shot the shit about the highs and lows of owning your own business. "Hey," I said. "If I do decide to sell my painting equipment, would you be interested?" Monica said it depended on what it was, what kind of condition it was in, and how I felt about the installment plan. If they did did start a painting sideline, they damn sure weren't going to be able to afford new equipment. start a painting sideline, they damn sure weren't going to be able to afford new equipment.

I liked her. Liked being there that night. I had a much better time than I'd figured I would. It was after eleven by the time I even looked at my watch.

Sheffer walked me out to my car. She told me that when she was thirteen, her oldest brother had died of leukemia. "He was eight years older than me," she said. "My hero, in a lot of ways. But, god, I can't even imagine imagine what it would be like to lose your twin." what it would be like to lose your twin."

"It's like . . . it's like losing part of who you you are. I don't know. In a lot of ways, we were pretty different. Which was fine with me. Just the way I wanted it. But all my life, I've been . . . I've been are. I don't know. In a lot of ways, we were pretty different. Which was fine with me. Just the way I wanted it. But all my life, I've been . . . I've been half half of something, you know? Something special-something kind of unique-even of something, you know? Something special-something kind of unique-even with with all the complications. all the complications. Wow, look. Twins Wow, look. Twins. . . . And now, that specialness-that wholeness-it just doesn't exist anymore. So it's weird. Takes some getting used to. . . . Not that it was ever easy: being his brother. Even before before he got sick. Doc Patel says I'm grieving for him-for Thomas-and for that, too. That wholeness." he got sick. Doc Patel says I'm grieving for him-for Thomas-and for that, too. That wholeness."

Sheffer reached over and took my hand.