James was already seated at a ridiculously miniscule table (seriously, you could fit half a coffee cup on there and the thing would keel over!), dressed in his hoity-toity get up as always. I never understood the fascination with trench coats. After Keanu Reeves in the Matrix, I just never could take them seriously.

The coffee shop was unbearably warm, and I immediately started sweating under my coat and gloves. The heat only seemed to worsen when James widening eyes took in my little guest. Cal instantly began to shake with fear and instinctively stood behind me. I rolled my eyes.

As we approached him, James made to leap up from his chair and pull a Count Dracula, baring his teeth arms outstretched above his head with claw like fingers. I half expected him to start hissing. The rotund girl working at the til looked on with broad blue eyes, her rosy cheeks reddening even worse as the idea of having to deal with two fighting clones settled in. I put my hand up to her reassuringly.

“James!”

The whole joint went silent. Six skinny, be-spectacled guys in scarves and vests looked up from their portable Mac-Books, some scared, some surprised, and some just plain furious that I’d interrupted their “creative flow”.

James stared down at me, his mouth agape with surprise. Why was everyone freaking out so much? All I did was yell at some insensitive little jerk with unnaturally shiny shoes (I happened to notice these just then as they glinted up at me from under the dim mood lights). He had it coming!

“Sit down.”

I was surprised by the coolness in my voice and even more surprised by how naturally I’d managed to take control. I mean, if we’d been in Lion King land, I’d be the alpha male. Okay… alpha… lion that wears the pants but doesn’t have the male equipment down below.

James slowly lowered himself back into the little wooden chair. After a moment, Cal followed suit and shakily sat down next to me (I noted how he pushed his chair back as far as he could from James), his eyes never leaving James’ face.

The hum of the café returned as I began to unwind my scarf from around my neck. Why had I worn a freaking scarf? This place was boiling! I mean, does it really require being hotter than hell to make some mocha-choca-latte-frappucino-iced-whipcream-shakennotstirred-coffees (hold the fat!)? Tiny mucky puddles were already beginning to form around my shoes from my trek through the icy-slush parking lot. The rosy-cheeked girl behind the counter eyed this frostily; I assumed she was on mop duty that night. As I took a quick sweeping look around the place, I didn’t envy her. I flashed her my most sympathetic smile possible (the way she glared back at me, I figured it must have resembled a smug bitchy grin. I never was good at making faces).

Cal’s leg was shaking so bad, it made the sorry excuse for a table rattle. I slid my hand over his thigh and held it down. He swallowed audibly.

“What’s going on, Marilyn?” James asked, his angry voice approaching a near growl.

“Clayton’s missing.”

“Well I- What?”

James tore his eyes away from trying to set Cal’s face aflame and stared surprised into mine.

“What did you say?”

“Clayton. My cousin. Your ex-brother.”

“He’s your- wait- and I- my brother- what?”

I watched as James’ brain visibly tried to wrap itself around these shockingly large details all at once. I bit my lip in anticipation, expecting his brain to explode at any second.

Instead, his face hardened into a glower, his eyes returning to Cal’s face.

“What does that have to do with him?” He snarled.

“I need help finding him, and you two know him better than anyone else I know.” I said matter-of-factly. James looked at me incredulously, like I was prancing around naked wearing nothing but a raccoon skin hat singing Britney Spears. I sighed heavily and leaned my elbows on the table (immediately regretting it as it began to teeter perilously).

“Listen James, you two are brothers! And not even that! You’re twin brothers!” I cried, my palms outstretched like it would somehow emphasize my point (although I really don’t know why I thought that crazily waving arms with spread out spider fingers really sent out the message “You’re Family!”), “You don’t know how much you’re missing! You’re acting like a couple of doorknobs! You have each other to get through stuff, to make memories with!”

I was vaguely aware of my voice rising (something Mr. Vest-wearing-tartan-scarf-six-earrings-in-one-ear-poet-Mac-Book-man made quite clear he did not appreciate by clearing his throat loudly). I plowed on, uncaring (who came to Starbucks at 7:30 in the morning to write their masterpiece anyway?).

“Part of being a family is forgiving and trying to understand one another! You have to talk! NOT attempt to crucify each other when you see them! What would Rachel say if she saw you like this?’

‘It’s bloody Christmas Eve!’-a fact I’d nearly forgotten myself- ‘You should be ESPECIALLY lovey-dovey with one another right now! If you can’t count on your family then who?’

‘God! I wish I had a TENTH of what you have on that front! Yeah, I’ve got my great grandparents, and a billion and a half cousins and aunts and uncles, but I don’t have anyone half as close as a twin brother except for Clayton!”

I panted as James and Cal stared wide-eyed up at me.

The entire place was silent again. I realized I’d been yelling and slowly turned to look around the room. Scarf-man had spilled green tea down his front, a couple off in the corner holding hands on the table gawked unblinking, everyone behind the counter had paused in what they were doing, one green-aproned little coffee elf letting the whipped cream pile up and over the rim of someone’s hot chocolate.

I shut my mouth and slowly began to sit down.

Way to go Marilyn! Scare the living shee-ite out of everyone! They’ll be calling the fuzz any minute now, to haul you off for being a public disturbance and-

Wait. No! Why should I care what these people think? I felt any embarrassment drain out of me, leaving me warm and toasty inside. My spine felt like it was suddenly hyped on helium and straightened up proudly (I’m not going to lie. I was far from modest at this point. Hey! It’s not everyday you make a public spectacle and not be embarrassed to the point of turning into jelly-like goop on the floor pretending you don’t have any vertebrae).

Mr. Whipped-cream broke the reverie first by letting out an “Oh shit!” when frilly ribbons of the stuff engulfed his hand. It wasn’t long til everyone else followed suit.

James had turned a sickly shade of white and Cal was distancing himself away from me now.

I blushed, the old Marilyn suddenly rushing back in like a tidal wave.

“I just don’t understand how you can’t see what you’re wasting.” I said quietly, looking down at my twiddling thumbs.

Dum-dee-dum! Just ignore me, crazy little Marilyn for now!

A choked guttural noise came out of James. I thought he was choking at first, but when I looked up I saw he was trying to speak.

“I… I didn’t know… I never thought of it that way.” He stuttered, staring into the center of the table like it was Jesus himself. His face began to twist around itself as some inner conflict made its confusing little self known. His head whipped up. His face was contorted as though he were in pain.

“But how can I forgive and forget the one that… that did that to Rachel?” He said, slightly choked. Cal finally spoke up.

“I didn’t do it James! At least not intentionally! I’d never hurt her and you know that! I know you don’t, but you’ve got to believe me! I wasn’t drunk! There was someone else!”

They looked deep into one another’s eyes. I had to resist the urge to yell COME ON! Every second these two had their Dr. Phil moment, Clay was that much less found. I still didn’t trust that he wasn’t curled up like a blue fetus in a ditch somewhere being nibbled on by vultures.

All right, so vultures weren’t native to Alberta, and even if they were, I doubt they’d have stayed through the winter. But even so! There’s always the odd carnivorous deer or desperate starving squirrel who’s grown fond of the taste of frozen human flesh! Mm! Human flavored popsicle!

I groaned aloud.

“You’ve got to trust me James. I need you to.”

Cal’s brow had furrowed every so slightly over his sad eyes. James simply looked like he was stuck somewhere between trying to shit a football and having a staring contest.

After an agonizingly long nail biting moment, James finally parted his lips to answer.

“I… I trust you Cal.”

I could have cried I was so relieved! Ah! You know it’s a good day when you don’t have to break up a battle royale between two brothers (who just happened to be significantly bigger than you).

They clasped hands; cut-off knitted glove with shiny leather. They pulled into an embrace and began a drumming sequence of patting each other on the back. I danced around in my seat. Brotherly love. Great! Beautiful! Love it! But Clayton was still out there. Clayton still needed me!

“Aaaand- Okay! Let’s go!” I cried, leaping from my seat and hopping from foot to foot.

They broke apart, still touching shoulders and looked down at me.

“Where?” James asked.

My face sucked into itself as if I had just ate a lemon. Damn James and his logic! Where was right. Where to look? Where could he be? I swallowed my frustration at having to back track, but I knew I had to go about this smart. There wasn’t time or room for my brain cells to sleep on the job.

“We need to check back at the house first.”

It was no surprise when I marched into the kitchen to find it still empty. I felt a little surge of love for my family. They hadn’t given up looking yet. I really ought to stop doubting them so much.

I went through all the upstairs, checking through the rooms to be thorough. Then I half fell half trotted down the stairs to the basement. There was nothing except the darkened Christmas tree. As I went to run back out to James and Cal who were waiting in James’ car, I paused beside it and looked at it sadly.

Something about an unlit Christmas tree felt wrong. I hurriedly knelt down and crawled underneath it to plug it in, ignoring both the voice in my head telling me I didn’t have time for this and the large red bulb that Clayton had specifically hung dangling in my face.

The tree burst into its warm glow, illuminating the heap of brightly wrapped packages beneath it. I was about to bound up the stairs, when one particular package caught my eye.

It was small, haphazardly wrapped in red, with a big gold ribbon around it and a crooked tag hanging off it that read:

To Marilyn

Merry Christmas

Love From

Clayton

My breath stopped in my throat and my heart thudded sickly against my ribcage. He got me a present?

With shaking hands, I reached out and picked it up gently, like it would shatter in my fingers if I weren’t careful.

My mind raced as I began to peel the paper off. What was it? Why’d he even get me a present? How’d he get me one? Was this going to make me cry? This was going to make me cry. I should stop while I’m ahead. Where WAS he? Why was he so sweet? This was going to make me CRY!

The paper fell away lazily from a wooden picture frame. I flipped it over to see my own face caught in mid laugh as I held my knit hat on with my knit gloves, Clayton grinning above me, staring into the curve between my ear and my neck, with an expression that can only be described as loving, while he held me round the middle during the midst of our snowball fight in the yard. I froze.

I hadn’t even known this picture was being taken at the time (talk about candid camera)! This had been just a week and a half earlier. Kevin and Trent had been begging me to have a snowball fight for days. It had only been about five minutes into the war that everyone was soon outside facing off in our snowy mêlée.

Ah damn it! There they were!

Sure enough, tears began to sting at the corners of my eyes and slid down my face. I ran my fingers lightly over Clayton’s face before hugging the frame to my chest.

As I stood there crying in the dark, a realization hit me. It was like a bug facing off with a semi’s windshield. BAM!

What I called my creepy “incest” feelings weren’t one sided. I wasn’t a freak! I was a coward! I’d tried to run away from it and here Clayton was, running after me, holding it out like a giant flag screaming “It’s Not One Sided!”

What was I doing?! Get it in gear, Marilyn you doorknob!

I swiped the tears out of my eyes, straightened my jacket, flicked my hair out of my face and ran full tilt up the stairs (only tripping once at the top).

My face felt like a crispy fritter as the cars heater blasted ruthlessly into my face. I ignored it as best I could, my hands glued to the dashboard, and scanned the passing streets for any sign of Clayton. I laws pretty sure I looked like an excited dog watching madly out the windshield. At the rate I was going, everyone was beginning to blur together to look like little mocking duplicates of Clayton. My head ached with the irritation of it all.

Cal slapped a heavy hand on my shoulder from the backseat, making me jump.

“You’re not going to be able to find him if you don’t relax Marilyn.” He said, exasperatingly calmly.

James nodded in agreement from his position behind the wheel.

“You need to chill out, Illy. It’s not good for him or you.”

Easy for them to say! They’d just had one big happy family reunion! They hadn’t been out for hours searching like a blind man in a snowstorm for an ice cube! My stomach was twisted in sickly loops as my mind thought up all sorts of scenarios Clayton could be in.

Frozen to death on the side of some back road.

Abducted and recruited by some mafia gang where the entry fee was having both your knee caps broken by a fat Chinese guy with a crow bar.

Kidnapped by the FBI or CIA or whatever Canada’s answer to that was because of a mistaken identity in which they thought he was an illegal immigrant with top-secret knowledge about how to end the world.

Chained in some psycho rapist’s basement who saved the thumbs and ear lobes of his victims while cannibalizing the rest of them.

Sucked into outer space by aliens who would probe his brain through his nostrils with pointy little knob-like things on sticks.

Hey! I never said possible scenarios!

I slid back into the leather seat with a vinyl squeak. I slumped there for a second before sitting up again, planting my face against the passenger window, spinning around to stare at James, tucking my knees under me (difficult to do with a seat belt that was stricter than a nun), spinning back to the passenger window, popping open the glove compartment, flipping open the over head mirror, flicking lights on and off, getting an actual idea that was useful.

I swiveled in my seat abruptly, and collided faces with Cal in the back.

“What about your dad?”

“What?”

“Your dad! Your dad knew him right?”

“Yeah…”

“He might have some idea of where Clay’d go, couldn’t he?”

I watched giddily as Cal’s face brightened. James glanced over his shoulder, tiny smile lines appearing at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s a great idea! James, homeward bound!”

I spun to sit front facing again (not daring to let myself get too hopeful), just in time to smash my head into the dash as James slammed on the breaks at a red light.