After leaving the café, Bogdan and Maya took refuge in her room and—stealing kisses from time to time—they planned what needed to be done for their Anatomy project. When the plan of action for the following weeks and the work for the day was done, the two of them layed out on Maya's bed, talking about their lives before college.
Bogdan layed on the edge of the bed, on his side, keeping his right arm under his girlfriend's head. They were relaxed and felt good in each other's company. They fell asleep in each other's arms while Maya told him about the places where she had grown up.
The phone ringtone woke Bogdan from a deep, dreamless sleep. He was still damn tired and was surprised to see that it wasn't the alarm that told him every morning it was time to go to college. He picked up the phone and checked the time. Five o'clock. "Damn it." He got out of bed and moved away so as not to wake Maya, then answered the call.
"It had better be important, Cristi."
"I woke you up, didn't I?"
"What do you think?"
"Are you at home?"
"No, I'm… at a friend's place."
Under no circumstances was he telling to his brother where he was spending the night. A great womanizer and Don Juan, Cristian David Sami was the ideal example of a nagging brother. The evil twin, as all their friends called him, Cristi had no restraint in getting "too close" to any female person who showed interest in Bogdan.
The eight minutes that separated them made the two twins both identical and different. You had to know them very well to tell who was who, although temperament-wise they were complete opposites. Bogdan was the calm one, while Cristi… was Cristi. Always looking to do something crazy, to party, to drink, to meet girls, and so much more.
"Can you come pick me up from Pakko?"
"Why don't you go home by yourself?"
"I've been drinking."
Bogdan didn't despise him; he just didn't like him. Yes, he was his brother. But he had lost a lot because of the family's black sheep. Still, he secretly admired him for the fact that he never got behind the wheel if he had even a drop of alcohol. He cursed. "Pakko." Of course his brother was at the sleaziest bar near the city, the perfect place to find trouble. And he had been drinking.
"I'll be there in thirty minutes. Until then, stay out of trouble."
He heard his brother whistling. "I'm not going anywhere, bro. Thanks!"
After Cristi hung up, Bogdan took a piece of paper and wrote Maya a note, leaving it on the desk under her mobile phone so she would see it when she woke up. He covered his girlfriend with the soft blanket from the bed, kissed her on the forehead, and as quietly as possible slipped out of the apartment.
An hour later he was already home, in the luxurious kitchen of the villa, having breakfast. It was still too early for the first meal of the day, so he settled for just a croissant and a strong coffee.
Cristi joined him as he was pouring himself a second cup of coffee. He was now dressed in sweatpants and a fitted white T-shirt. His hair was still wet from the shower he had taken as soon as they got home. He didn't look hungover, although Bogdan could have sworn he had a headache.
He took a mug from the cupboard and poured coffee into it, the he began briskly opening, one by one, the drawers of the kitchen furniture.
"Hey, Bogdi. Have you seen the aspirin box?"
"Did you check the bathroom cabinet?"
"Why would it be there?"
"You put it there last week, the morning after the party."
"Did I do that? I'll be right back."
He returned to the kitchen in no time, cheerful, with two tablets in his hand. He swallowed them with coffee and sat down on the couch so he could see his reflection—as he sometimes called his brother.
"You still haven't told me where you were last night."
"Somewhere that's none of your business."
"Come on, don't be like that. What's the harm in sharing?"
"You forget we're twins?"
"Believe me, I couldn't forget even if I wanted to. Every time I look at you, it's like I'm looking in a mirror. And it's not always a very pleasant reflection."
"What do you mean by that, Cristi?"
"I mean that even though we look the same, there's nothing more different than the two of us. If I'm the night, you're the day. I'm the lion, you're the mouse, and I can tell you that I'll end up among the devils and you among the angels. I swear, sometimes your reserved, always-proper behavior wears me out. Have you ever done anything out of the ordinary?"
"What are you getting at?"
"At the fact that you have to live your life—you only have one. Be spontaneous, don't plan everything. You don't always have to be the perfect example and everyone's benchmark."
"Meaning?"
"I quote: 'Cristi, look at Bogdan—he got into Medical School first, while you're content with post-secondary school for designers.'"
"And you think that if I were different, they wouldn't see your flaws?"
"Oh, they would! Of course they would. But they wouldn't see only mine."
They both burst out laughing. They didn't have many opportunities to sit and talk like this, but it was nice. They used to think that once they grew up, being identical would give them enormous advantages—like taking exams for each other or doing the same with business meetings organized by their parents. But their characters, different like heaven and hell, were the ultimate disadvantage in their plans.