Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

At first I was happy about it, but as I watched them together, I became curious and then revolted by what I saw. They spent nearly all their waking hours side by side. Besides brushing each other's hair, they would cut each other's toenails and check with each other to see what each wanted to wear before either would get dressed. They never seemed to argue like other siblings their age, and I noticed that Richard never teased Melanie. In fact, neither said a negative or critical thing to the other, ever.
    Whenever Jefferson and I were in the same room with them, they would inevitably revert to whispering.
    "Your mother's so worried about everyone being polite and following the proper etiquette and behavior," I snapped at them, "you should know that whispering is impolite."
    They both smirked. Whenever one was chastised or criticized, the other reacted as if it had been done to him or to her.
    "You and Jefferson have secrets," Melanie moaned. "Why can't we?"
    "We have no secrets."
    "Of course you do," Richard said. "Every family has its secrets. You have another father, your real father, but you keep everything about him secret, don't you?" he accused.
    "I do not. I don't know all that much about him," I explained.
    "Mother says he raped Dawn and that's how you were born," Melanie revealed.
    "That's not true! That's a horrible lie!"
    "My mother doesn't lie," Richard said coldly. "She doesn't have to."
    "She has nothing to hide," Melanie concluded.
    My heart was pounding. I wanted to walk across the room and slap the expressions of self-satisfaction off both their faces.
    "My father, my real father, was a famous opera star. He was even in Broadway musicals and he was a teacher at the Sarah Bernhardt school in New York," I said slowly. "That was where my mother met him and fell in love with him. He did not rape her."
    "Then why did he run away?" Richard demanded.
    "He didn't want to be married and take care of children, but he didn't rape her," I said.
    "That's still horrible," Melanie said. Richard nodded and then went back to the game of Chinese checkers, leaving me steaming.
    Not having had to spend so much of my day and night with them before, I never realized how infuriating and self-centered the twins were. No wonder neither of them had any friends besides each other, I thought. Who would want to be their friends? They were so close, they wouldn't permit anyone to come between them anyhow.
    One morning, when they left the bathroom door open and they were both inside, I nearly got sick. I saw Richard take Melanie's toothbrush just after she had used it and put it directly into his own mouth.
    "Ugh," I cried and they spun around. "You have your own toothbrush, Richard. Why would you do that?"
    "Stop spying on us!" he cried and closed the door.
    But it was Jefferson who came to me one night and told me the most astounding thing of all about them. I was writing pages and pages of a letter to Gavin, describing all of the unpleasantness that was going on in the house now, when Jefferson appeared in my doorway looking confused and troubled.
    "What's the matter, Jefferson?" I asked. "Melanie's old enough to take her own bath," he said, "isn't she?"
    "Of course. She's practically thirteen, Jefferson. You take your own bath. Either I or Mrs. Boston help you sometimes and you like me to wash your back the way Mommy always did, but . . . why do you ask?" I suddenly said.
    "Richard's helping Melanie," he announced.
    "Take a bath?" He nodded. "I don't believe that, Jefferson. How do you know?"
    "She asked him to. She came in and said, 'I'm going to take a bath,' and he said, be right along.' Then he got undressed, put on his robe and went to the bathroom."
    "They're not taking a bath together, not at their age?" I said. Jefferson pressed the corner of his mouth into his cheek and shrugged again. I got up slowly and went to my doorway to peer down the hallway at the bathroom door. It was shut. "You saw them both go in there?" I asked Jefferson. He looked up and nodded.
    Intrigued now, I walked quietly down to the bathroom door and listened. I heard their muffled dialogue and put my ear to the door. There was the distinct sound of water lapping against bodies and the inside of the tub. This is disgusting, I thought. Surely neither Aunt Bet nor Uncle Philip knew about this. I tried the handle. The door was unlocked. Jefferson's eyes widened with surprise and excitement when I opened the door a fraction. I put my finger on my lips