Life used to feel simple and predictable. My twin brother Lance and I were always in competition despite being twins. Our parents, with a sense of humor, named us Arthur and Lance, like knights of legend, but our relationship was anything but knightly. Lance, with his effortless charm and athleticism, always seemed to excel, while I, the older twin by two minutes, struggled to gain recognition.
It’s funny how childhood dynamics shape your entire life. Reflecting on my marriage to Paige, I realized it mirrored that competition, constantly chasing something just out of reach. When we met, she seemed perfect, smart, beautiful, and driven. We built a life together: kids, a suburban home, stable jobs, but over time, something essential was missing, turning our marriage into a routine instead of love.
As I rushed out of the house, my body gave out. I vomited violently, releasing more than just fast food. It was the pent-up pain and bitterness I had swallowed for too long. The reality of my broken marriage hit me hard.
Paige followed me outside, barefoot, pleading. I shook her off, yelling at her to leave me alone as I sped away, drowning her voice with the car’s engine. In the rearview mirror, I saw her standing there in her bathrobe, arms crossed, looking worried, but not enough to stop me. The realization that there was no love left between us hurt more than catching her in the act minutes earlier.
It wasn’t a new revelation, just an old truth I had avoided facing. At Lance’s apartment, he greeted me with concern, but I brushed past him and collapsed on the couch. His messy apartment always annoyed me, with dirty dishes and clothes strewn everywhere. He’d been playing video games when I arrived.
Typical Lance.
“Everything okay, bro?” he asked, nudging me.
I ignored him, and he eventually returned to his game. Finally, I snapped, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
Without looking away from the screen, he replied, “Aren’t you?”
Watching him play, my anger grew. How could he sit there casually playing video games while my life was falling apart? Why did things come so easily to him while I carried all the weight? I exploded, surprising even myself.
“Can you turn that crap off? What are you, sixteen?”
Lance shrugged, unfazed, and kept playing.
“What’s your problem?” he asked calmly.
That’s how Lance handled everything. Nothing ever fazed him. My rage boiled over. I grabbed his controller and smashed it against the wall. “What the hell, Art?” he yelled. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You!” I shouted, poking him in the chest. “You’re what’s wrong with me!”
“If you’ve got a problem, leave. This is my place. Go back home to your wife.”
I snapped. We’d fought before, but this time was different. Fueled by anger, I attacked again, but Lance, always stronger, easily overpowered me, knocking me out cold. When I came to, I heard Lance on the phone.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” he said.
Seeing me awake, he smirked and tossed me an ice pack.
“You done acting like an idiot?”
“Why did you call Paige?” I groaned.
“She’s your wife. She should deal with you,” he replied.