Both

Both

Jake and Joe are two good friends. Jake and Joe are friends of mine. Not that they’re not friends with each other: Jake and Joe are brothers. A few years apart. Two, to be exact.

We saw each other quite a lot growing up. It happens that we not only attended the same school from sixth grade until graduation, but we also attended the same church for years and years.

I’ve known Jake and Joe for a long, long time. They’re normal guys. They’re good guys. However:

For ages, it was routine for us to get together and goof off. But on the day that I have in mind, they began something that stuck around indefinitely. And what they came up with that day was only a small version of what it was to become.

The three of us were ten, ten and eight at the time. We had gotten together at their house, and were engaged in an outdoor game of tag, chasing one another endlessly around. I was it. At one point, I was right on Joe’s tail, and did not know the exact whereabouts of Jake. Joe and I turned the corner at full speed, at which juncture, Jake revealed himself to have been hiding in the hedge between their yard and the neighbor’s.

As soon as he came out of the hedge, Jake merged behind Joe in front of me, taking Joe’s place as the one being chased; while Joe darted off to the hedge where Jake had been, taking the place of the one hiding. They did it so seamlessly that it did not occur to me to continue chasing Joe to the hedge, even though I knew that he had stopped moving and would thus be much easier to tag. Jake then turned his head just enough so that I could hear his voice over the wind.

He blurted out “Hey Caleb! Come on and tag me since I’m Joe!”

The spontaneity and suddenness of Jake’s bald-faced lie were sheer genius to my ten-year-old mind. The combination of us already being tired from so much running, and the fact that he said it mid-chase made the joke lethal. I buckled from laughter and fell over. Joe emerged from the hedge and did the same.

It was several minutes before we could even stand again, and we enjoyed the mirth of their performance thoroughly before resuming tag.

On the next lap around the house, they did it again; only, it was Joe’s turn. He came out of the hedge and changed places with Jake in the very same spot, and I started chasing Joe instead. Once again, I did not change direction or chase Jake into the hedge. “Hey Caleb! Come and get me; I’m Jake!” The joke hit us all just as hard the second time, and we had to take another break.

This was all we did for the rest of the day that day, and it was no less funny by the end. During every lap, they would switch places at the hedge. In every instance, Jake or Joe would yell back to me that they were Jake or Joe, depending on whose turn it was, and it would never be true.

The hedge version of this game became a cornerstone to our friendship, and we returned to it often. But throughout our early years, they did not fail to trade places in my company every chance they got, no matter where we were. Every time we got together, they would do it at least once. And we would all still laugh once I saw that a switch had taken place. It quickly become an important tradition for the three of us.

Once we outgrew the hedge version of this enterprise, they found many other activities in which to switch places. They switched places during summer bike rides, they switched during family dinners, and they switched during church. And not one time went by during this period when they didn’t grin when they knew I was looking. But for now, none of these switches were beyond accounting for. It was clear that they always did it quietly when I wasn’t looking, and waited for me to notice.

But they grew bolder.

A few times, Joe sat in on a class Jake was supposed to be in that I normally had with Jake. He would spend most of the period smirking and looking right at me. Nobody seemed to notice that he wasn’t actually Jake. They are brothers and they look like they should be, but they don’t look enough alike to be confused with each other. Joe was also two grades younger than Jake and I, so the mistake could hardly have been made by my classmates. Much less for an entire period.

In tenth grade, there was a door I would pass by between classes through which I could always see Joe at his desk, in a class of his own. But on one or two occasions when I walked by, I looked in and saw Jake sitting there instead. Looking a little big compared to the others, and with no-one batting an eye. From the moment I looked, Jake would be turned toward me grinning ear to ear. Like he knew I was coming.

I guess Jake could be as much Joe to them as he was Jake to me when he wanted.

Here’s what was new about the game now: one of them would suddenly be where the other normally was, but it wouldn’t raise anyone’s brow except for mine. And later, when I would bring it up to them, they would scoff at the silly idea there was ever a change.

“Why would I be in Joe’s class? Do you really think I could just pop in one day and nobody would call me out??”

“You must have been seeing things! There’s no way I could have sat in Jake’s seat for an entire hour and not get in trouble.”

“We’ve never not been in a family photo together. Especially during the holidays. Don’t be insensitive!”

At this point, whenever I brought their antics up to them, they would still grin while telling me I was nuts.

Once we were in college, they each had jobs in food service. Joe sold bagels for three or four years, as did Jake ice cream. I would go to visit them often, but it wasn’t long before they started switching places at their jobs too. I’d walk in the bagel shop looking forward to catching up with Joe, and Jake would be behind the counter.

“What are you talking about, Caleb? I’ve slung bagels for quite a while now. No, Joe was not just here last week. You know where he works. Aren’t you getting a little old for this?” Still grinning.

Then I’d go to the ice cream shop looking forward to a cone and saying hey to Jake. Low and behold, there’d be Joe.

“Are you out of your mind, Caleb? I’ve always worked in ice cream. I can’t believe you’ve got us mixed up again.” Still grinning.

Every time that I went back to see that they were back to where I thought they always were, they would never admit that it was ever otherwise. Every time after the time I thought they had switched; they would be back at their original posts and tell me it never happened. Switch and deny. Switch and deny. When they switched, they would grin. When they switched back, they would grin. It made no difference who was where. If I said that it hadn’t been that way the last time I was there, I was wrong. Switch and deny and grin.

Sometimes they switched so much, I would see only one of them no matter who I was trying to visit. For example, it was not uncommon for there to be a month-long stint of only Joe at either store. I once nearly went from Halloween to Mother’s Day buying bagels and ice cream from nobody but Jake. It was times like these when I thought, I wonder when I’ll get to see them both.

At this point, I had long since stopped pointing it out to them. I can’t quite say why.

I also wondered how their bosses felt about this; how their coworkers dealt with it.

Not long after, Joe was my roommate. He had stopped working at the bagel shop to focus on school. This was also during a period where I didn’t see much of Jake, who had become busier with his own pursuits as well. Thus began an era wherein I thought the game was finally over. Maybe what all that was required of me for them to stop was never to mention it. Or perhaps it finally got old to them.

Then one night, a year-or-so into Joe and I’s shared residence, I dreamt.

I was in church. With Jake and Joe, and they were ushering. Both were wearing black suits and pants. Joe was standing at the front near the altar during a prayer. Jake was at the back near the door. Like quantum particles, they jumped places in exactly one frame. There was Jake by the altar. Behind me was Joe near the font. Then I noticed we were singing a hymn whose subject dealt with exactly what had just happened. I looked through the hymnal, and saw that all the titles were about Jake and Joe having always been where they now were, and why was I such an idiot. Jake was Always by the Altar. Joe’s Been by the Door Since We Started. Everyone Now Bow Our Heads, and Caleb, You Big.... I looked over some of the words, and they were all about Jake always having been where Joe just was, and vice versa. And they were obscene and profane, and invariably berated me for believing something that I thought was not only obvious, but mundane.

Then our pastor gave a sermon addressed directly toward me. It was masterfully crafted and elegant, and it was exhaustive. One of his more compelling sermons, to be honest. Sadly, I can only remember parts. “After all, it should be clear to Caleb that Jake has never stood near the back where Joe is. How could that be? Don’t even get me started about the bagels. Don’t even get me started about the classrooms.”

But he never looked me in the eye. Nor did anyone else in the congregation, even during the hymns. Especially not the two. Then I woke up. And I knew it wasn’t over.

One day Joe and I walked from our dorm to lunch. Waiting outside for our food, I turned away from Joe to look at a car, or something. I turned back to Joe, but he was Jake.

I didn’t see the switch. I didn’t hear the switch. Yet, the switch happened in an instant.

This time, I knew I had to hand it to them. With cheerful surrender in my voice, I praised them that they had gotten so good at this after all these years of doing it. I remarked how novel it was that they chose to up the ante when I was certain this game would not happen again. I then looked around for Joe, calling for him to show himself because the joke was over now. Well-done Joe, the joke’s over now; come on out. I tried to coax Joe out from behind some corner, or from underneath some car, or anywhere. Friendly-like.

“What on earth do you mean? Joe?! Come off it. I’ve been standing here the whole time!”

Furthermore:

“You’re pulling my leg. Joe’s been living in a high-rise down the street for two years, and you know it!”

Jake was living down the street in a high-rise for two years.

“I’m your roommate, I’ve always been your roommate, Joe was never your roommate!”

Joe was my roommate. Joe had always been my roommate. Joe was my roommate.

“Quit weird-ing me out.”

For the first time, Jake was completely serious. No mirth in demeanor or tone. I walked back with Jake to the dorm, and we ate our lunch in silence.

The next day, Jake was still there. In Joe’s room.

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. I walked over to the high-rise, and up to Jake’s apartment, and who could answer the door, but Joe. I asked him how they did it. He asked me how we did what? I explained what I thought I had seen at lunch yesterday, and told him his brother wouldn’t budge. Knowing Jake was more stubborn between the two, maybe Joe could finally shed some light on this. Instead of answering, he gave me a pitying look of shame, and slowly shook his head as closed the door.

They settled into their denied new places, and we moved on, not mentioning it again. Truly, I was so much in awe of their new method that I didn’t have time to be perturbed.

That is, until Jake landed a prestigious writing job in Connecticut, less than a year later. He’d always wanted to move to the coast too, so this was big for him. He was wondering if I’d like to help move him out there, so we did, and it turned out to be mostly a great time. He paid me for my trouble too. He rented a hauling truck, and we packed all his things in it. Nothing but laughs driving up, and the moving went quickly and smoothly. We finished up, and Jake ordered us pizza and wings for a reward. Waiting for our delivery, I was sitting down reading a book. Jake went to the bathroom, whose door was roughly in my line of sight.

A few minutes later, Joe came out.

“Utter nonsense, Caleb! You KNOW you and I just drove my stuff to my new house here. I can’t even tell if you’re serious or if this is still your same old game. Either way, I think you need to talk to someone about it. Grow up!”

Once back home, I went in his room in the dorm, and brought stuff that I thought Jake had borrowed from him back to the high-rise. Once again I was unsure who would answer, but then again, wasn’t I? Jake was once more in the apartment. The same apartment whose door Joe had answered a while back when I asked him about who I had really been to lunch with that one time. Jake took the things that he angrily insisted were always his, which Joe borrowed from me, not the other way around, Caleb! I don’t want to hear it!

It wasn’t like the hedges at all. It wasn’t like the workplaces either. They hadn’t done it while seeing me and I saw it, nor had they switched places in anticipation of seeing me. They had done it right under my nose, and I had no clue how.

But most importantly, they had phased out the grinning—which at least was some form of acknowledgement and inclusivity through humor. They were now all but offended at my bringing it up. That’s what I get for trying to ignore it. That’s what I get.

Had Jake really given up his dream to pursue this game? Surely, Jake wouldn’t be able to hold down such a position out of state, as well as keep up the ruse? Joe’s home base should also be taken into consideration, as it was here; not in Connecticut. It must be severely inconvenient for him to have to live in Jake’s new place from now on when he had no plans to, mustn’t it?

With all these things in mind, perhaps this is why I tried to keep my distance from them for a bit. I wanted to give them an out, so that they didn’t feel compelled to uproot their own lives just for the sake of our tradition.

Yet, we still remained close. Ours was a friendship spanning far enough back that we lost no familiarity with one another for many years still. Even though my visits with them from that point on were much, much fewer and farther between.

And still, as though they were afraid to let me down, they kept up the game.

I went hiking once with Jake in the Rockies. I rounded a corner ahead of him, and when I turned around, it was Joe who caught up to me. We were a few thousand feet above sea level. I hadn’t seen Joe for some time, least of all at base camp. I thought he was back in Montana where I was sure he lived at that point. Nope. Sod me for asking. Joe chewed my head off in the mountains that day for making the mistake again.

Joe and I were at the wedding reception of a mutual friend of ours from high school. This friend had been in Joe’s grade, and they were somewhat close, so she asked him to stand in a group photo with her and her spouse. I shut my eyes from the flash, which turned Joe into Jake.

Before I could stop myself, I looked in awe at Jake. Our eyes met, and no sooner did his expression turn livid. He took me aside and read me the riot act before I could say anything, because he instantly knew I was about to point out another switch that never happened.

There was something like a dozen instances of this ilk during these years, but those two were the last ever wherein I didn’t play along:

Canoeing with Jake in the Boundary Waters. Jake’s dog lets his excitement get the best of him and jumps out. We capsize due to the imbalance caused by this sudden movement. Jake goes completely under for a moment and comes up Joe. I manage to contain it this time. I help Joe flip our boat back upright, and this time, I address him as who he looks like right off the bat. Forget a possibly still submerged and drowning Jake. Forget him.

Back on land I tell Joe, your dog isn’t the most patient, but it sure can sink a boat, eh Joe?

“You said it. He’s not so smart but he enjoys the Waters.”

Another time, I’m visiting Joe, and helping fix his roof from storm damage at his house in Montana. He trips and tumbles off, landing unharmed in his garden. I come to the edge where Joe left the roof and look down. In the spot where Joe should have landed is Jake. This time there’s no effort expended by me in keeping my awe to myself.

“Pheeew! I must have stepped on my hammer. Good thing I landed in the shrubbery, haha!”

I tell him, yeah, but at least your roof is fixed, Jake.

“It suuuure is.”

…etc.

Because I had learned to ignore it again. They had mastered a baffling and wonderful technique, and would never even let me applaud it.

By now, I had also stopped going back to where the one had just been to make sure it was indeed the other now in place of his brother. That was a guarantee. It took me long enough to learn.

Time passes, and even causes the closest of friends to drift. With our youth finally spent, them and I were immersed in worlds and lives of our own. Apart from each other, and apart from the game.

At this point, Jake lived in town again. I was still a member of the church we attended regularly back in the day, and from time to time, I would see him in the pews. He would always leave early though, and I would not have gotten the chance to say hello even if I had such a mind. Once in a blue moon, I would see Joe there as well. I had not spoken to him in ages either. Of these scattered instances, I only ever saw one or the other, and never both.

Regardless, we had drifted out of each other’s lives by then.

Yet one morning, I get an invitation in the mail, and I find myself invited to Jake’s 50th. It was a nice thought of him to invite me. I was glad to know I hadn’t been forgotten by him. In truth, I didn’t think to invite him to mine.

I showed up to a large and well-to-do venue for the celebration. Jake’s strides as a screen writer had earned him the status of at least a minor celebrity over the years, and these days, he was somewhat of a big deal. This in mind, the exclusiveness and grandeur of the place did not surprise me. Cars of the guests were parked as far away as four blocks in any direction. Once I stepped inside, it was a scene to behold. I’ll spare most of the details, except that there were several interconnected open rooms, including a live band in a ballroom full of dancing folks, and a vast buffet whose cuisine was of higher quality than anywhere I had dined in recent memory. Not to mention a host of staff, one of whom greeted me at the door and took my hat and coat. I can’t say for sure, but I may have even seen a small camera crew. I was proud of and happy for Jake.

I told the butler who I was, and he directed me to a table near the back of the great hall with my name on a laminated card. I was told to enjoy myself and eat and drink to my heart’s content. And that Jake would do his best to get around to everyone once he had made a speech. I didn’t get my hopes up, because I knew he had hundreds of people he knew better and was obliged to make pleasantries with. Yet, sure enough, he came over my way in not too long at all.

Big hellos and fond embraces, and we talk for quite a while. I tell him how floored I am by the event, and especially by his evident success. I told him that I don’t know if he realized it, but I still attended the same church from back in the day and saw him visiting there a scattered handful of times, and sorry that I never got the chance to say hello in such instances. He would hear no apologies and assured me that my presence was most yearned for by him on this day.

We were having nothing but an excellent time catching up. Easily twenty minutes go by before a lull. Not even a lull, but a pause. So, I take this opportunity to ask how Joe is these days.

“Who’s Joe?”

No problem, as I’m sure he’s connected/big enough now to have more than one Joe in his life. I tell him your brother Joe.

A look of dismay momentarily clouds his face, but quickly turns to a smile, followed by a long, hardy laugh.

“Same old Caleb, hah-hah-hah! I’ve missed your twisted sense of humor more than you know!”

Before I could say anything further, he insists upon introducing me to several people. He puts his hand firmly on my back and stands up abruptly from our table. I find myself standing in compliance just as swiftly, as if he had lifted me effortlessly from my chair.

This reminded me of something about his character which I had forgotten. When he wanted—or perhaps, and more troublingly, without knowing—he had a way of making you feel obligated to do exactly as he did without commanding or even suggesting it, as though you knew you would either really be missing out or severely dropping the ball if you didn’t follow suit as quickly as possible. It was almost a kind of spell; and one that made you all the more embarrassed, uncomfortable and mad with yourself for once you realized it had been cast. Given my surrounding circumstances to boot, the discomfiture I felt from this upsetting power of his was visceral.

He and I then circulate the endless crowded rooms mingling with his guests, and him talking me up to each one as though I was the man of the hour myself. He found my Joe idea humorous enough that he had to tell it to every single person to whom he introduced me.

“…so then he says, Hey, how’s your brother Joe doing these days? Baaaa-ha-ha-ha-haaa!”

This goes on for what would turn out to be the two most strenuous two hours I have ever known, even though most of the talking was done for me. By the end, it must be no less than seventy people who are told of and roar about my invention of Joe. How could they all know enough of the context behind why Jake thought this was funny to find it so themselves? Or perhaps he had cast his strange spell on them too. Maybe they all felt the same unwanted urgency to do as he did as I had felt when I agreed to stand and work the room with him. Then again, none of their laughter sounded forced by them, or manipulated by him.

Jake matches each reaction with chortles of his own, having lost no gusto from the first introduction to the final. At last, to my great relief, he is called away by a butler to say goodnight to a few of his friends who are leaving.

So, he puts his hands on either of my shoulders as if to admonish me, making direct eye contact. Not unlike an embrace that the best man gives to the groom, giving him one last heart-to-heart before the wedding.

“Caleb, my friend…eternally glad you could make it. You’ve enriched my birthday and my very life by your presence.”

With that, he turns on a dime, and walks briskly in the direction of the lobby.

Still in earshot, he tilts his head to the ceiling with one last vaudevillian guffaw:

“My brother Joe. Hah! Why, I’m an only child.”

In spite of the weight of the evidence against me from that night, I knew in my heart that Joe was not somebody I made up. Whenever I thought back to Jake’s birthday, I had to tell myself Joe would turn up again.

Thankfully, he did.

Decades went buy. It had been just as long since I had seen either him or Joe. During this time, I went through several years where I racked my brains with nothing but the question of those two. Up until what must have been the final stage of their game—the one where one of them denies that the other ever existed—I was never actually troubled by what they were doing. Maybe a little bummed out, but nothing more. Nor was I ever mad or resentful. Once the game became victimizing to me, it became only a small part of the friendship I had with them. Yet, Jake’s birthday was the first time where the game briefly became dangerous to my mental health.

But time cures all ills, and I think it solved the problem of Jake and Joe for me. It had been decades since I stopped worrying that Joe might have been an apparition this whole time. It had been decades since I thought that they might be magical folks who chose me to mess with in the long term. It had been decades since I was paranoid that I might have a brain disease which caused me to hallucinate such a long-standing, elaborate, evolving hoax.

I was in a restaurant one summer weekend afternoon, thirty five years after Jake’s birthday bash. I had become aware of a large gathering at the other end of the room, with put-together tables. I noticed that all members of this party rose to address each newcomer’s arrival to their group with familial hugs and handshakes. By and by, I look over, and was honestly touched to see Joe sitting at the head.

The years had not only been kind to him but had also blessed him with an aura of stolidity and joy. He had the unmistakable and dignified look of a paterfamilias. I knew as soon as I saw him that those all were his people.

I had to say hello. When it seemed like a good time to do so, I got up from my table and walked respectfully over. It took a minute to jog his memory, but I reminded him of our childhood, and he said that he remembered me. He told me the occasion was an after-party for his son’s retirement from the military. They had just come from the ceremony.

I told him how thrilled I was to see all this for him, and how fulfilling it must be for him. He agreed and told me he was pleased and thankful to the heavens for them. All of his children were grown now, and had families of their own as well. All of them were in attendance proudly representing Joe.

I didn’t have much to tell him about myself, but mostly wanted to hear from him. He was happy to oblige. His description of life since I’d known him gave me images clearer than most things I’ve seen for myself.

At length, I did what I had to, and asked him about Jake. Was he still around?

Silence followed. He stood looking searchingly at me for something further. I told him I was referring to his brother.

All he could do was considerately, gravely shake his head. He shook his head at me this time as if to a stranger.

For the first and only time when it came to this, frustration found its way, infinitesimally, to the surface of my words. I insisted that I only wanted to know if he had heard from his sole brother, Jake.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I never had a brother, Jake or otherwise, or any siblings.”

Sympathetic but resilient, he then turned his attention back to his family.

Forward, to a time that seems to be toward the end. Far removed from any memory of Jake, Joe, or the switching. I’m bedridden, under regular supervision and care now. I don’t expect to see anyone who’s known me, or who I knew.

Through a heavy haze, I turn my head to the side and see two blurry figures standing nearly at arm’s length from my bedside. My vision returns slowly, as best as it can, and the figures take form.

Standing timelessly before me are Jake and Joe, grinning wider than ever before.

“I haven’t seen you both in a long time.”