Abnormally Normal

Bernard’s excited bark jolted me awake, and my hand flew defensively to my throbbing forehead. A dull ache pulsed behind my eyes. I was still hot and drenched in sweat, remnants of the fever clinging to my skin. As I opened my eyes, Bernard bounded onto the bed, his big brown eyes full of joy and oblivious to my suffering.

“Hey, Bernie,” I rasped, my voice barely a cracked whisper. A surge of nausea threatened to overtake me, and I closed my eyes again, letting my head sink back into the pillow.

Suddenly, the bedroom door squeaked open and a sliver of light pierced the comforting darkness. Pops’ voice, usually laced with playful teasing, held genuine worry as he took in my disheveled form. “Sloane Liliana, your alarm went off over an hour ago...”

I could feel him beside the bed, the warmth of his presence enveloping me. The familiar scent of sandalwood and spice was somehow comforting, even with an underlying sharpness - the scent of worry clinging to him. His hand gently brushed against my cheek, and despite the fever, I shivered a little. My eyes fluttered open and saw the concern etched on his face. “What’s wrong, honey?” he whispered.

That’s when the dam broke. I buried my face in his chest and let loose a torrent of tears. His arms wrapped around me, a sanctuary in the chaos of my sickness. “I don’t feel good, Pops,” I sobbed, clutching his shirt.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered, rubbing soothing circles on my back. “Maybe you caught a stomach bug. You’ll be okay.”

The noise of footsteps made me tense. Stetson walked in - backpack slung over his shoulder, twirling his keys in his hand. He was in full ‘hurry-up-or-I’ll-leave-you’ mode, ready to launch into his usual snarky routine. But he froze in the doorway, the scene before him derailing his usual banter. His expression shifted from surprise to confusion. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice mirroring Pop’s worry.

Pops looked at him and shook his head. “She won’t be going to school today, Stetson,” he said softly. “Can you let them know she’s sick?”

Stetson nodded, and without another word, slowly backed out of the room. Pops sat on the bed and leaned back against the wall, pulling me onto his lap. ​​I snuggled deeper into his comforting embrace.

We were twins, Stetson and I. Bound by blood, yet as different as night and day. He, with his short, dirty-blonde spikes and tall, muscular frame, exuded a raw, athletic energy. His features were all angles and edges – a prominent nose, thin lips, and those captivating blue-gold flecked eyes that commanded attention. And then there was me. My ash-blonde hair fell to my waist, my curves a stark contrast to his lean lines. My features were softer – a small tilted nose, full lips, and eyes of shimmering green with flecks of gold that mirrored his own.

Stetson was a force of nature – captain of the soccer team, the outgoing extrovert with a sea of friends, and popularity that flowed as easily as his charm. He sailed through relationships, leaving broken hearts in his wake. Me, they said, was too afraid to let anyone truly in. I reveled in the quiet – I was the volleyball captain too, but my circle was small and intimate. Crowded parties weren’t my scene. Boyfriends? They never seemed to stay, claiming I was too quiet, too boring, or too independent for them.

Yet, through all our differences, we were inseparable. Our bond ran deeper than blood. When life knocked the wind out of me, he was the one who knew when to push and when to simply sit in the silence. And despite the occasional bickering that came with being twins, his loyalty was unmatched, my fiercest defender. He might be three minutes older, but I was perfectly happy ignoring that small detail.

For now, tucked safely in Pops’ arms, I let the exhaustion claim me once more. The rhythm of his heartbeat and the soft scent of his familiar aftershave lulled me back to a much-needed sleep.

When I woke again, the room was strangely quiet, the comforting weight of Pops no longer beside me. A sliver of afternoon sunlight cut through the closed curtains. With a soft sigh, I pushed myself up, a wave of grogginess still clinging to me. Opening the door, I stepped into the hallway, a faint hope nudging me forward.

Almost immediately, a familiar bark and the thud of excited paws echoed through the house. Bernard, our fluffy white Samoyed, dashed toward me, his tail a whirlwind of joy. He leaped, paws catching me just below the chest, and a flood of happy licks washed over my face.

A smile spread across my lips as I wrapped my arms around his thick fur. “Hey there, buddy,” I whispered, scratching behind his ears. “Missed you too.” Bernard was a sixteenth birthday gift, a surprise from Pops, and instantly became an irreplaceable part of our family.

He trailed behind me as I headed downstairs, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting from the kitchen. Pops was in the living room, a soft smile on his face as he watched a nature documentary, the sound barely audible. Our spacious living room was a familiar haven – the slate sofa and matching loveseats arranged around a glass-topped wooden table. The sofa faced the fireplace, the loveseats angled towards the flat-screen TV mounted over the mantel. Beige walls, warm hardwood floors, and pops of green from the potted travelers palm tree gave the room a cozy feel.

Pops glanced up, a smile spreading across his face as he waved me over. I snuggled up against him, resting my head on his shoulder. With a light touch to my forehead, Pops declared, “Seems like that fever’s broken, sunshine. Feeling better?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Much better,” I admitted. Pops stroked my hair lovingly and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“A little,” I admitted, though the thought of food didn’t hold much appeal right then.

Pops nodded, grabbing the remote and switching over to Friends, cranking up the volume just as Joey launched into a description of his latest escapade. A familiar wave of comfort washed over me as I laughed at the onscreen antics, Bernard hopping onto the couch to curl up beside me.

Just as the episode reached its peak, the back door slammed open, shattering the cozy scene. Stetson burst in, breathing hard, his backpack flailing. “Sorry, Sloane,” he panted, thrusting a wrinkled stack of papers into my hand. “Forgot your homework.”

With barely a word of goodbye, he tore up the stairs, his heavy footsteps announcing his rush to change. “Gotta get to work!” his voice floated down.

The grandfather clock chimed 5, its gentle melody signaling the end of the episode. Pops stretched, a wide yawn splitting his face, as the Friends credits rolled. “Alright, pizza time,” he announced. “What sounds good, sunshine?”

“Buffalo chicken,” I replied without hesitation. Pops dialed Domino’s, placing an order for one buffalo chicken, one deluxe, and two orders of stuffed cheesy bread. After confirming the total and estimated delivery time, he hung up.

“One more episode?” I suggested. Pops nodded, grabbing the remote and pressing play as he settled back on the couch. He hummed along to the familiar theme song, and we were halfway through the episode when the doorbell rang.

Bernard bolted from the couch and sprinted into the kitchen, barking excitedly. “Sounds like someone else is home,” Pops said, grinning as he got up to answer the door. Sure enough, Dad’s familiar voice drifted in from the entryway, followed moments later by dad and Uncle Jake strolling into the living room.