Saturday, 18 May 2013

Saturday, May 18, 2013 -

Matched Set

by Rue Chapman
Published: May 15, 2013
Words: 26,361
Category: romance
Orientation: M/F
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Matched Set

"Can you read each other's minds?" That's the second question they always ask.

No, but I always know what she's thinking - everyone does, her emotions are always clear on her face.

But the big one is, "Are you identical?"

There's a certain kind of male who drools as he asks that question. No, we're not identical, we're fraternal twins. That's when they look disappointed and lose interest; we're definitely second best in the twin stakes.

Oh, and we don't have our own language, unless you count the meaningful nods, winks and raised eyebrows that every woman uses in wordless conversation.

And then there's the rest of it - the opposites game. "Which one is the good one and which is the naughty one? The quiet one and the noisy one ... the mean one and the nice one ... the hardworking one and the lazy one? The smart one and the dumb one?" As if we have to be totally different from each other.

And the answer to that is ... neither of us is the 'one' of anything. We can each be quiet or noisy ... mean or nice ... hardworking or lazy ... smart or dumb ... as the mood takes us. And definitely naughty AND good. Or, as our mother used to say, 'good and naughty'.

So, we're twins. Rosemary and Jasmine (Two of our mother's favourite plants in the garden. Could have been worse - we could have been Pansy and Geranium.) ... Rosie and Jazz to our friends.

And right at this moment I could answer 'Yes I can read her mind.' But then so could anyone within hearing range.

"They'll hate me!"

"They won't hate you."

"They'll say I'm not good enough for him!"

"You're perfect for him."

"They'll ... they'll ... they'll look at me!"

"We'll charge admission. Put it towards the wedding reception."

"You don't understand!"

"I've got a pretty good idea. And please stop squeezing my throat."

Rosie released her death grip and stepped back a little. I tried to edge her away from the knife drawer. "Look, you're just meeting his relatives. Of course they want to see you, you're joining his family. They'll welcome you with open arms. You're sweet and lovely and unarmed. What's not to like?"

"I'm NOBODY. They're big and rich and important, they'll think I'm some cheap gold-digger!"

"That's better than an expensive gold-digger, surely." Nope, levity didn't help. "Ok, look, this is simple. You pick out a sweet, demure outfit. You make reservations at a nice restaurant. You eat a meal with them and prove that you can use cutlery and don't chew with your mouth open. You stay reasonably sober, laugh at their jokes, and look adoringly at their son. And they'll love you."

She hurled herself towards me. I tried to fend her off, but she clung to me like a demented limpet and wailed like a banshee. "Noooo they want to come HERE! They want me to cook a meal for them! And it's not just his parents, it's ALL of them, the whole family! His parents and grandmother and brother and sister and her husband and children and probably their pets as well!"