• When a phone rings at three A.M., there's nothing else to do but worry. And then answer.

    I knew, down to the pit of my stomach, that I didn't want to answer, and yet I did, because I knew who was calling. Worse still, I knew why they were calling.


    David had been killed. Killed in action, to be exact.

    I didn't know medics could be killed in action. I remembered when he'd explained all that to us.


    "I won't even be carrying a gun. I'm just a band-aid man."


    A road-side bomb had gone off under the ambulance he was tending to patients in. All of the soldiers on board were killed.

    Including David.

    When the officer spoke these words, I hung up.

    There was no way. Not my David. My twin brother, my best friend, the most annoying, sweet, wonderful guy on the planet. The pride and joy of my family.

    The only thing holding us together.



    Kelly wouldn't speak to anyone for days. She didn't come out of her room, even when I called. Mom was always crying whenever I talked to her. And Dad...

    ...Dad refused to even talk about it.

    "Desiree, I've always been Dad's favorite, and you know it."

    Tyler dealt with it better. He made arrangements for the funeral. He made the calls to our other family member's and Davids friends. He oversaw everything when they flew our brother home.

    "Tyler always was the soldier in the family, Des. Me? I'm just the medic...and don't try to tell me any different."

    I didn't move from my spot on the floor, kneeling by the phone. I was remembering David, and how we'd always argued about the silliest things. Dad used to always tell us that we'd been arguing at birth about who would get to come out first.

    David won that argument. He didn't win many after that.

    "As your older brother, I demand you tell me where the heck you're going tonight."


    We'd been in each other's classes from kindergarten until college. He went to South Atlantic, and I went North Coastal.

    We called each other every night and talked for approximately two hours.

    We ignored everything else when we did this.

    "Who needs a girlfriend? I have a twin...she can cook for me."

    Needless to say, neither of us ever held a relationship for very long.

    We finished medical school around the same time. Dr.'s Desiree and David Peterson both moved back home, with in miles of each other. We celebrated out twenty-fifth birthday together at Disneyland, just eleven short months ago.

    "I feel like an old man."


    And then David joined the army.


    Mom didn't speak to him for days after that. Kelly and I made ourselves too busy to worry, stitching his name into endless socks and underclothes, even going to far as to embellish his hats.

    "I'll probably get beaten up for wearing this Red Sox hat. Thanks in advance, girls."

    He was shipping out in a month. By that time, he had enough clothes to last at least two years.

    He was supposed to return two days ago.

    And then I got that call.

    "I'll give you a ring when we land."

    The funeral turnout was as expected. My entire high school was there, along with a score of military people. My parents, my sister, my brother and his family all wore the same apparel. Black.

    I was wearing navy blue.

    It was David's favorite color.


    The officiator spoke about him in monotone. I imagined David standing beside me, whispering a joke or something in my ear. He would have never wanted this as a funeral.

    "When I go, Des, don't let them bury me in black. Shoot the preacher if he makes me out to be an angel. You know I'm not."

    I remembered his words. His first wish, I'd granted. He was wearing a navy blue suit. The second wish wasn't so easy. I tried to see him chastising me, a slight grin on his face...

    "But you promised, Des."

    ...I couldn't envision him clearly enough, though. I feared I never would again.

    I wanted him back.

    My identical twin brother.

    My other half.

    "You can't always get what you want, sis."


    The trumpeter began playing "Taps" as they lowered the casket into the ground. My mother was clutching the folded flag, weeping bitterly while my father stood off, watching her with the saddest eyes I'd ever seen.

    "Des, if I go before mom and dad, you take care of them."

    Mom and Dad would never forget this. No one in our family would.

    I never wanted to.

    "You never forget anything, Des."

    Never.