I barely sleep through the night. Skin itching everywhere, I toss and turn. The next morning, as I apply toothpaste to my electric toothbrush, I see my reflection. A pair of bloodshot and droopy eyes. Who are you?
I step outside to find Sammy waiting for me. Peering out of his piercing blue eyes, inviting me to play.
I promised to take care of a friend’s Siamese for the weekend. Sleeping over, to keep him company. A beautiful apartment in the middle of Sandton.
How could I forget? I am allergic to cats.
You come over and we go upstairs to sit by the infinity pool with a view of Johannesburg punctuated with purple Jacarandas.
I tell you about Mark. “He gave himself to the world, yet he never found the love he deserved. A man to love him. He had so much love to give.
With a serious look on your face, you tell me, “The way you see Mark. That is the way I see you. You are so beautiful. You are so kind. You give so much. You wouldn’t recognize yourself if you passed yourself by.
Words I will never forget.
“You know… life isn’t easy for people. Have you ever been rejected? Have you ever told anyone that you like them? You have to try.”
We leave the pool and head downstairs. As we sit and talk, half hour passes. “Oh my goodness, look at your face! You’re turning red.”
You see my face change, allergic reaction to the cat. Mirror of truth, you become. “Yes, you agreed to catsit, but that doesn’t mean you should sleep here tonight! You can’t breathe here!”
We used to run into each other at mutual friend’s get togethers, never in each other’s direct orbit. You didn’t like me (your words), and I didn’t think we had anything in common.
Shortly after the lifting of Covid travel restrictions, we are invited by another mutual friend to join 3 other women on a weekend getaway. On second day, we sit casually across from each other on long dining room table. How did we get started, this three-hour conversation? We cry at each other’s life stories lived in parallel. You call me Twin. You say I am like the real twin you lost, a sister who shared your mother’s womb.
Friendship blossoms. You become my sun and my moon. And I too, become your sun and your moon.
12 months later, we find ourselves in the same house, few hours away from Johannesburg. It is evening and we are playing 30-seconds, in opposite teams.
30 seconds is like the American Taboo. One person tries to get her team to guess as many words as they can in 30 seconds. My team finishes a turn and you object.
“Nope, you don’t get a point for that!”
“Yes we do”, I fight back.
“But nobody heard it!” you yell.
“So what? Do you think I would lie to get a point in a game of 30 seconds? If I said it and no one heard it except me, isn’t my word good enough? Don’t you believe me?”
Silence.
“You’re right. I believe you. I’m sorry, Twin.”
“It’s okay.”
And like that, we get through our first argument. Respectfully and quickly.
We spend time together, just the two of us. You seek me out. I appreciate your honesty. You know how to speak to me. I do my best in black and white. You tell me, “You know, I never liked you. I was like, why is N friends with this person? She’s lame. But I know N. She keeps quality people in her friend’s circle. Then you left Telkom. You became a different person. No, you became more of who you are. Then you broke up with your Ex. Then you became even more of yourself. I was like, whoa! Who is this person! I want to spend as much time with you!”
You had every reason to dislike me. In my previous role, I felt as if I was in Dead Sea, treading water to barely clear the water’s edge. Avoiding dead bodies and sharks nearby.
In my new role, I feel safe. Out of water, on dry land. I had shed barnacles and other parasites attached to my life raft. I become me.
You become my cheerleader, and me yours. I teach you how to navigate corporates. How to start slow with investing. The power of compound interests. You teach me how to live in this world, full of social cues and norms I could not see until you entered into my orbit.
You are African. I am Asian. You are brown, me sandalwood. You are sporty; I love books. You are married; I am still figuring things out. Your battery is often flat, and mine is always full. You are neurotypical. I am neurodivergent.
We are more alike, than we are different. A match made in heaven, in this earth, together in time.
You are lovely to me, and I am lovely to you. What have I done to deserve such love? You keep me accountable. You invite me to level up. I do the same, and we celebrate each other.
You push me. I push back. And together, we calibrate and equilibrate. We balance each other.
You open my eyes to the world. I learn to speak the language of neurotypical people. You challenge me to do right by me. “If you signed up for 12 months in Cape Town, why don’t you give yourself the full 12 months?”, You challenge me as I contemplate staying another week in Johannesburg to dilly dawdle.
I can go on and on. And it will, for as long as we shall live. This love letter that continues to write itself.
Last night, my 100-day challenge accountability partner tells me,
“People enter our lives for a season, reason and lifetime.”
With you, I commit to a lifetime of reasons and seasons of love.
With you by my side, this world makes more sense.
Dear Siamese Twin,
I dedicate one of my favorite songs in celebration of our love.
Seasons of Love – Rent (Music Video)
“Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear.
five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure,
Measure a year?
In daylights? In sunsets? In midnights? In cups of coffee?
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?
In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure a year in a life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love…
Seasons of love…
Seasons of love…
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty five thousand journeys to plan.
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure a life of a woman or a man?
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried?
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died?
It’s time now to sing out, though the story never ends.
Let’s celebrate remember a year in a life of friends”
P.S. Yesterday, as I was walking back to my car, I turn to my right to glimpse at my own reflection. Who is this beautiful woman looking so cool and so full of life?
I see me, the same way you see me.
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