“Wyatt? Are you up?”
“It’s Saturday morning, I’m sleeping. What do you want?”
“I’m at your dorm, can you let me in?”
“Are you kidding me, Morgan?”
“Uhm. No.”
Standing at the door of Moffat Hall on Indiana University’s campus, my twin brother, Wyatt, was not thrilled to see me. It was nine o’clock in the morning and as his “wombmate”, I knew to never disrupt his sleep, but did it anyways. This was the first time we had seen each other since I moved to Trafalgar and he to Bloomington, and it had been way too long. He arrived at the door and grumbled over my presence. I smiled and he stayed quiet, proud of the crazy surprise, but we both knew that I wasn’t leaving. He got ready for the day and I explored his room and texted every detail to our mother from his reaction to his Pizza X cup collection.
Wyatt and I were twins and defied every stereotype that stood with being such. We were fraternal, didn’t necessarily “enjoy” being a twin, and were complete opposites in personality. Wyatt is shy around family but the ‘coolest’ with peers, while I preferred to be with those older than us. Wyatt is by far the funniest and most sarcastic person I know, while I struggle for a single laugh. Wyatt is calm, confident, sharp as a tack, where I can be nerdy, awkward, and slightly clumsy. When together, we were either ‘two peas in a pod’ or oil and water. There were many days where Wyatt and I wouldn’t acknowledge each other and few of being the built-in best friends that we were. We rarely saw eye to eye, but something felt different these past few months, at least for me.
Since we’ve both moved from our home, Wyatt and I have been living in a different world. Wyatt lives in a dorm room by himself, whereas I live with six individuals who were once strangers. We didn’t have someone who truly knew the way we tick or work the way we do. We didn’t have the other to challenge or fight with. Life has been pretty sad once I came to this realization: I miss Wyatt. And while he may deny it, I think that he misses me too.
After little bantering, I managed to bribe Wyatt into a free breakfast. I pestered him with questions about his new life and for the first time in a very long time, we were able to talk about things that made us resent each other a few months before. For the first time in what felt like forever, we saw eye to eye because we still cared and respected each other. For so long I refused to understand or respect my brother because he was different from me. I refused to see it from his side of the fence and used the excuse that he didn’t care to see from mine. I refused to believe that he cared or loved me until it hit me in the face these past few months that he really did care. And here we were, enjoying our pancakes and toast, as if we were still built-in best friends.
When I watched Wyatt walk back into his dorm and I drove away, I had a bittersweet smile as I honked in his direction. I was sad to leave someone that I called my best friend, yet thankful for the moment together. At the end of the day, it’s not about being oil and water and always fighting to be right, it’s about taking down the fences and seeing from the other side. Even if it is with your built-in best friend.
A loving sister,
Morgan Ann Hinz
P.S. Wyatt, if you’re reading this, we’re having breakfast together soon.