Eyes Like Twins

NO ONE EXPECTED the Auclair family to have any children at all, let alone identical twins.

Nevertheless, when Samantha and Charity came into this world, their parents discovered there was only one way to tell them apart: Charity had been born blind. Her sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling and the sky with equal intensity, unblinking yet searching for something unseen and unknown. Mr. and Mrs. Auclair were heartbroken, but they promised to do everything in their power to help Charity experience the world through her other faculties.

They bought sensory toys by the dozen: stuffed animals that squeaked and rattled, teething rings, scratch-and-sniff books, and so on. Charity loved them, but Samantha did too. If one twin played with a certain toy for too long, the other twin would bawl until it was her turn. Yet when one twin got in trouble for some reason, the other one would cry. Their bond astounded both their parents, and sometimes, late at night when superstition held sway, Mr. and Mrs. Auclair teased each other that their daughters could read one another’s minds. Little did the parents know how close they were to a truth that would dawn on them gradually, like a sunrise, exposing everything in its harsh yet beautiful light.

When the girls were five years old, the Auclairs decided to go to Walt Disney World on their first-ever family vacation. They knew Samantha would go gaga over all the princesses, especially Ariel. Yet they wondered how much Charity would enjoy the theme park without being able to see. They decided to go on as many kids’ rides as possible for her sake, then get in Ariel’s meet-and-greet line and the Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boutique for Samantha’s. Everything worked out well until it was time for the Festival of Fantasy Parade. Both girls had an epic meltdown: Charity for obvious reasons, and Samantha because she was tired and needed a mid-afternoon nap and snack. Mr. and Mrs. Auclair solved the girls’ hunger problem by buying them giant Mickey-shaped pretzels, but they knew the parade would be a bust – until Samantha came up with a brilliant idea.

“Hey, Chair? Let’s play a game,” she said once she’d stopped sobbing. “It’s called ‘Eyes Like Twins.’ I know you’re blind, but pretend you can see through me. Hold my hand and pretend you can see all the princesses and the other characters. It’ll be fun. Right?” Charity nodded and sniffled a little. “Great. On the count of three, we’ll hold hands, and then the parade will start. One. Two. Three.”

Charity’s face lit up as Samantha leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “It’s Belle and the Beast! Cinderella! Elsa and Anna! They’re all so pretty,” Charity cried. “Hi! Hi! Hi!” The girl did not stop waving and blowing kisses until Mickey Mouse’s float had passed her by. A good thirteen minutes.

“So, girls, did you like the parade?” asked Mr. Auclair with a big grin on his face.

“Totally,” said Samantha.

“What about you, Chair-bear?”

“It was great! I could see everything!”

“You mean you pretended you could see everything,” said Mrs. Auclair.

“Oh. Right.” With a serious expression on her face, Charity straightened up. “Just pretend.”

Samantha, who’d done kindergarten-level research before coming to the park, begged, “Can we see the Disney Starlight parade, too? Please?” She stretched the last word to five syllables.

“No,” answered her father, doing the same. “That’s way past your bedtime, kiddos.”

“Aww.” As disappointed as they were about not getting to stay up late, they were soon distracted by more attractions, especially gift shops. Charity picked out a stuffed Minnie Mouse by feeling every inch of it and finding a bow on its head. Samantha selected several dolls after playing “Eyes Like Twins” with her sister again: “Guess what Disney Princess I’m holding up?” “Chair-bear” nailed every single one. The Auclairs were happily flabbergasted until they remembered that Samantha had whispered the answers in Charity’s ear. They still thought the game was adorable.

Although the family trip to Disney World was a huge success, life was not always so happy for the Auclair twins. School was okay for Samantha, but a nightmare for Charity. In the hallway, kids would knock Charity down, and since she couldn’t tell who’d done it, no one got disciplined. They also stole Charity’s homework out of her backpack and sabotaged her however they could. When each student in Charity’s class was assigned a school-supplied laptop, Charity had to change her password every day so her peers could never guess it. They referred to her as SBG – “stupid blind girl” – and kept asking her where her Seeing Eye dog was. Since she only had a white cane, she couldn’t really be blind, could she? That was why they called her “faker” too.

As for Samantha, she hated how her classmates were treating her sister, but unless she caught the bullies red-handed, there wasn’t much she could do. Except tell the teachers, who didn’t do anything for fear of being sued. Plus, there was the added burden of survivor’s guilt. Samantha often felt its pull. Why could she see, and Charity couldn’t? What had either one of them done to deserve sight or not? When Samantha met a group of Christian kids from a local church, they told her that her parents must have sinned for Charity to have been born blind. All people were born sinners, but in Charity’s case, Mr. and Mrs. Auclair must have done something extra-bad. It was a punishment from God and a test for Charity. If she had enough faith, God would heal her in Jesus’ name. So far, though, this hadn’t worked. Charity prayed day and night, yet she remained blind.

On one depressing day in October of their third-grade year, the rain pouring cold and gray against the girls’ bedroom windows, they’d gotten so bored with their schoolwork that Samantha had sighed and asked Charity: “Hey, Chair-bear. What are you currently working on?”

“A report on Rome. All I know is that it has the Colosseum. That’s not enough to fill up one line, let alone three pages. What else can I write that AI can’t write for me? Not that I’m using it.”

“I bet you are,” Samantha said slyly. “Everybody does, including me. My teacher docks points for any grammar or spelling errors, so no wonder I turn to ChatGPT. As for Rome…” She trailed off, then asked, “Want to play ‘Eyes Like Twins’?”

“That silly game we loved when we were younger? Sure. Anything but write this stupid report.”

Samantha got up from her desk, went over to Charity, grasped her hand, and concentrated.

“Think really hard about Rome, okay? What else do you see besides the Colosseum?”

“Nothing. Wait. A massive fountain with turquoise blue water and a statue of an ocean god in the middle. It’s called the Tro – Tri – Trevi. Then there’s this temple with a huge domed ceiling and a circular skylight. That’s the Pantheon, dedicated to all the gods. Then the Pope lives in a gigantic church with a dome. It’s St. Peter’s Basilica, the spiritual center of the Roman Catholic Church.”

“Is that it?” Samantha asked Charity. “Is that all you can see through me?”

“No. I also see people. Tons and tons of people. They’re walking through Rome along with us, and it’s a wonder we’re able to see the buildings you just mentioned. I have to look over everybody’s heads, which is super hard. They’re crushing us. You mind if we let go of each other’s hands?”

“Not at all.”

The twins unclasped their palms. Both of them felt drained, like they’d just taken a long walk.

“Wow,” Charity said. “That was amazing. For a minute, I thought we were both really there.”

“Weren’t we?” asked Samantha. “Google all the places you just mentioned.”

Using a text-to-speech screen reader, Charity did just that. Every result came up positive.

“That can’t be,” she exclaimed. “Every one of these sites is actually in Rome. They’re all real.” She said the last two words as if they were complete sentences. “You took me there, Sis. I mean it.”

“Do you have enough to finish your report now?”

“I do. I’ll describe everything in detail. Like I was there live. My teacher’s going to be impressed.”

Samantha took a deep breath. “Chair-bear, when we were five and we went to Disney World, you weren’t just pretending when we played ‘Eyes Like Twins,’ were you?” Charity shook her head. “I knew it. We have a gift. You may be blind, but through me you can see anything, can’t you?”

“If I concentrate hard enough. It kind of gives me a headache, though.”

“Me too. Now, listen. Mom and Dad don’t know about this. They can’t know. They think we were just playing a game. Whenever they’re around, we have to act normal. When we’re feeling low or super-bored, let’s go somewhere. Anywhere on Earth. Does that sound good?”

Charity nodded, then leaned in close. “Guess what? You can see through my eyes, too.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense. You’re – ”

“Blind? Yeah, but I can see beyond this world. I’d like to show you something. It might scare you.”

“Nothing scares me,” said Samantha, clasping Charity’s hand again. “Try me. I’m concentrating.”

Charity sat back in her chair, relaxed, and stared upward at the ceiling, unseeing yet seeing all.

“Nothing’s there,” Samantha said, then gasped as if all the air had been sucked out of her body.

“Stars – s-so many stars – !” she finally stuttered after taking a long, wheezing breath.

“This is the Universe in all its glory. See the Milky Way? And the Andromeda Galaxy. I can take you there. We can visit Mercury, Venus, Mars, and all the planets in our solar system. Including Uranus, which rotates on its side.” Samantha giggled. “I’m serious. It does. I can see all the way across the whole of space and time, but I have to be careful not to look too long. It exhausts me.”

“I bet,” said Samantha, “but you said you wanted to show me something that would scare me.”

“That didn’t?”

“Okay, maybe a little. Or a lot. I want you to show me the scariest thing of all time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I want to be so scared that it makes the worst horror movie look like a comedy.”

“If you say so, but don’t blame me if you run out of the room screaming. Hold on tight.”

The twins interlocked the fingers of their hands and squeezed, squeezed, squeezed.

All of the marvels they had beheld exploded in their respective fields of vision, or lack of it, like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Once they had all burst to life and faded out, there was nothing. Absolutely naught. No galaxies, no planets, no stars, not even a single black hole.

There were only sounds.

Choking, gasping, keening, shrieking. Wailing and gnashing of teeth. Dread, remorse and sorrow concentrated and intensified a trillionfold. This was the howling of people who’d had their souls systematically stripped from their bodies, bit by bit. The suffering of the eternally damned.

Above everything, Charity’s voice: “This is where I’m afraid all my bullies will go.”

Samantha burst into hot tears. “Then why are you seeing this instead of them?”

“They will, soon enough. When it’s too late.”

Samantha wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffled loudly. “Can’t you forgive them?”

“I already have. They’re not sorry, though. They won’t be until after they’re dead.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s the kind of people they are. They won’t listen, and they won’t change.”

“Can we please go? I’m begging you. Take me away from this horrible place.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

When the twins let go of each other’s hands, Samantha fell to the bedroom floor in a dead faint.

Charity grabbed the Yeti bottle on her desk, felt her sister’s face, and poured water on it.

Samantha came to, coughing and spluttering, then asked, “We just went to Hell, didn’t we?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s never go there again. I’m sorry I asked earlier. From now on, we’ll travel to good places.”

“You got it.”

And travel they did. When Charity looked through Samantha’s eyes, they visited the Egyptian pyramids, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Eiffel Tower, and all the sights this world had to offer. When Samantha looked through Charity’s eyes, they sojourned beyond Earth, throughout the solar system, and to the distant galaxies Charity had pointed out. Since she could see across the whole of time as well as space, she took Samantha to their house in the not-so-distant future, when they were both giggly tweens primping in front of the bathroom mirror. The more often they experienced life this way, the more they wanted to, and the stronger their bond became. In fact, Charity and Samantha soon found that they didn’t need to hold each other’s hands anymore. All they needed to do was concentrate their mental energies, and miraculous wonders would unfold. However, this process soon began to take its toll.

Both twins became sicker and weaker, so much so that they missed a lot of school. Not only that, but Mr. and Mrs. Auclair became worried that something more was wrong with their daughters than chronic fatigue. When they took Charity and Samantha to several doctors, one of them ordered MRIs for the twins. The results were astonishing: identical brain tumors in both girls, in the occipital lobe, the area of the brain responsible for vision.

“Impossible,” cried Mr. Auclair. “Something like this doesn’t happen. If it’s a coincidence, it has to be one in a billion. If it’s not – No. I refuse to think in any way but the rational one. Can you remove the tumors? I know we don’t have much money right now, but whatever we have is yours.”

“I’m sorry,” replied the oncologist, “but these are Grade Four Glioblastoma Multiforme. Highly aggressive, and in their position, inoperable. We could try an intensive chemotherapy course, but even then, I’m afraid that would only prolong the inevitable. What confuses and astounds me is that, first, these tumors are typically seen in adults, and second, they’re typically in the front regions of the brain such as the frontal and temporal lobes. I’ve only seen an occipital one once, and I’ve never seen them in children. This is truly a medical mystery. If you wish to proceed with the chemotherapy anyway, I suggest transferring them to a research hospital for treatment.”

“No,” snapped Mrs. Auclair. “Charity and Samantha are not guinea pigs. Nor will they ever be.”

“Please, honey,” her husband said. “Don’t think of it that way. Our daughters have the potential to save other kids’ lives if it turns out we…can’t save them. The doctors will try everything they possibly can. Let’s help our girls make the most of their time on earth while they still have it.”

Fighting back an avalanche of tears, Mrs. Auclair nodded. If the oncologist hadn’t been in the room, she would have argued with her husband so loudly that it would have disturbed other patients. Nevertheless, in her heart of hearts, she knew this was the way it had to be. With limited hope and limited resources, there wasn’t much any of them could do. So she agreed to the chemo and the research hospital, but she resisted listing Charity and Samantha as organ donors. Doing that would mark them as the living dead, and she’d refuse this step until they were actually gone.

As for the girls? The chemotherapy made them lose their hair and their remaining energy, not to mention their patience. Nevertheless, they clung to each other more desperately than they ever had before. The hospital was foreign and sterile, full of treatments and other dangers they’d never faced. Only they understood what they were going through, and they relied on each other as keenly as their parents did.

Throughout everything, the one thing they never stopped doing was playing “Eyes Like Twins.” They knew the “game” had caused their cancer and was destroying them, yet they couldn’t resist the pull of exotic places and different times. Why stare at the hole-filled ceiling of your hospital room if you could go to the Galapagos Islands and see some tortoises, or maybe the Great Red Spot on Jupiter and the rings of Saturn? Why watch MedTV when the visions before your eyes – whether sighted or blind – showed you as teenagers attending Prom in the most gorgeous dresses imaginable? They both liked periwinkle blue gowns with white rose corsages.

At last the day came when the doctors could do no more. The tumors, which had been primary, were spreading to the girls’ lymph nodes at a remarkable rate. Besides, the Auclairs’ health insurance would not cover further treatment. They decided that the kindest and most humane thing to do would be to put Charity and Samantha in hospice. They shared a room, as always, and the nurses providing round-the-clock care had the patience of a thousand saints. When they could no longer breathe on their own, their parents decided against ventilation. Their time had come, and only acceptance would do, no matter how hard they all cried and prayed. In Charity and Samantha’s last hour, they asked their parents to hold their hands. Mr. and Mrs. Auclair did so.

A panorama of verdant fields and azure, cloud-filled skies spread out over their field of vision, making the world vanish and Paradise appear. Charity and Samantha ran through one of the meadows, their hair and vitality restored. They laughed as only the happiest children do, free of pain and worry, dread and consternation. Charity’s eyes had been healed, and Heaven was theirs. As the girls passed away, their souls ascended to the glory of the sun, where blindness would affect them no more. Their eyes, like those of twins, shone clear, bright, and eternally as one.

Credit: Tenet