Begin Chapter 2 - Mike

“I dreamed last night I could fly.  And that Grand Coulee was invaded by aliens.”

“Really,” Mike yawned and kept his eyes on the road.  He could have glanced over at his twin.  The highway in front of him was straight and empty.  And he could have feigned interest.  But this new dream-sharing thing was flaky, even by Ben standards, and it was starting to get on his nerves. 

“Yeah.  It was pretty wild.”

Mike drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, impatiently tapping out a message, Shut up.  Listen to the radio. Let me eat my breakfast. 

“How about you?  You dream anything?”  Message not received.

“Nothing.” Mike reached into the bag between them.  He pulled out a paper napkin and laid it across his leg, his breakfast table on school days. “Open that for me.”  He tossed his brother a foil wrapped sandwich. 

Ben took the sandwich, peeled back half of the foil with practiced ease, and handed it back.  The smell of bacon wafted through the stale air of the old truck.  “You must have dreamed something.”  Without being asked, he poured some coffee from a rusted and battered Thermos and set the cup in the holder closest to Mike.

“Nope.  I never dream.”  Mike took a bite of his sandwich, balanced it carefully on the napkin, took a sip of coffee, turned up the volume on the radio.  The only radio station this far from civilization was KEYG, country.  He’d rather listen to classic rock.  Honestly, he’d rather listen to nothing.  On normal days, Mike liked the morning drive to school. Usually, Ben would prop his head against the window, slipping in and out of sleep with each bump and dip in the road, waking up, grumpily, only when Mike asked him to pour more coffee or stop snoring.  Mike could drink his coffee, hot, milky and sweet as syrup, and let his mind wander aimlessly, drifting from girls, to football, to what kind of car he’d buy if he inherited a million dollars.  No pressure.  No one to please.  That was before Ben decided to become share guy.

Ben turned down the volume on the radio, which was just as well because someone was wailing a song about lost love that was even worse than listening to Ben.  “Everybody dreams Mike.” 

“Thanks Dr. Ruth.  I hadn’t realized.”

“Dr. Jung.  Dreams were his specialty.  Dr. Ruth is the sex doctor.” 

Mike grinned.  “I mostly dream about sex anyways.”  He didn’t bother to ask how his brother knew all that stuff.  Ben never forgot anything, as far as Mike could tell - not even the useless stuff. It hadn’t done him a whole lot of good though.  It hadn’t helped Ben pass 11th grade. 

“You just said you don’t dream.”

“Jeez, Emo bro.  Give it a rest!  Just bury the sheets in the hamper and hope Mom doesn’t ask in front of company why you changed them.”

At that, Ben fell silent.  Mike took a bite of his sandwich and tried to concentrate on the quiet drone of balding tires hitting the pavement. But the silence was one he could not get comfortable in.  He finally looked over at his brother, studied the sharp angles of the side of his face.  Even though they were twins, Ben had always been slight compared to Mike.  He looked thinner than ever today, edging towards scrawniness.  Ben was staring out the window, his gaze fixed somewhere between the coulee in the distance and the scrub brush coursing past the truck.  Finally, Mike sighed.  “What’s wrong Ben?”

Ben’s face tightened.  “Nothing’s wrong.  I’m just trying to have a conversation.  Listening to you chew with your mouth open isn’t nearly as entertaining as you might think.”

“You worried about school?”

“Have I ever been before?”

Mike thought about that.  Nope - not ever.  Ben was a piss poor student.  In fact he half-assed most everything in his life.  But it never seemed to bother him.  On some days, on the days when the anchors of homework and chores and friendship seemed particularly heavy, Mike envied Ben’s carelessness.  On most days though, he thought caring about nothing was more trouble than it was worth.  “So nothing’s bothering you?”

“Nothing.  Except my brother freaks out every time I ask him about his dreams.  That’s kind of telling.”

“Yeah.  It tells you I’m not a girl,” Mike answered.  “For the record I don’t giggle or collect stuffed animals either.”  He watched his brother out of the corner of his eye.  Something was definitely wrong - or more wrong than usual.  His twin was abrasive anger and standoffish sarcasm.  He was not ‘I dreamed last night I could fly - what did you dream?’  It was no good worrying about it though.  He’ll tell me when he’d ready, Mike decided.  Or, knowing Ben, he’d never tell. It would just fade from the forefront and become one more thing to add to the long list of things he did not understand about his brother.   

Mike took another bite of his sandwich and a big chunk of egg slipped out and dropped onto the part of his lap not covered by the napkin.  Crap.  He tried to brush it off, but only succeeded in turning a small stain into a large one.  Today just became a t-shirt out day. 

Ben finally turned away from the window.  He watched his brother in silence for a minute.  “There’s a patch over to the left with no grease on it yet.  You want me to unwrap the other sandwich for that spot?” 

“Shut up.”

““I could drive.”

“No.  You can’t,” Mike said.

“It’s not like it’s your truck.”

“Yeah.  Well.  Thank God for that.”  The truck was an ancient blue ford, a rolling, rusting advertisement that the ranch hadn’t had a bonanza year in quite some time.  “When was the last time you paid for gas?”

Ben shrugged without answering.

“Not since school started,” Mike answered for him.  “And the guy who buys the gas gets to sit behind the wheel when the gas is being used.  The guy who never pays for gas only gets to sit behind the wheel when the motor isn’t running.  He can make vroom vroom noises if he wants though.”

“Dad didn’t pay me this week.”

“You didn’t do any work this week.  The cows can’t feed themselves.”  Mike thought about what he had just said and winced.  He sounded like his father. 

“Yeah,  they can feed themselves.  It’s called grazing, Mike.  Look it up.”

Mike laughed despite himself.  “The north pasture’s overgrazed and Dad hasn’t gotten the lease for McBain’s meadow ironed out yet.”

Ben shook his head.  “Right.  No need to rush, though.  Not so long as he’s got enough hay and a big dumb son willing to feed twice a day.”

As usual, Ben was on the mark just enough to spark in Mike a quick hot flame of irritation towards their father.  If they didn’t get the cattle moved soon, Mike was going to be benched for missing too much practice. He'd had to cut out early twice just this week to help out. But Ben’s versions of things were always black and white - he called it cutting through the bs.  Mike wasn’t so sure - sometimes it was hard to tell what was bs and what was just life.  “Dad’s got a lot on his mind.  You could help out more.”

“Well I’m not big and I’m definitely not dumb.” Ben turned his attention back to the scenery.  “You’re going to have to get used to doing things without me anyways.”

The truck rolled to a creaking stop at Four Corners and Mike made the turn onto Highway 174.  He began fiddling with the radio station again, hoping they could pick up a Spokane station now that they were off the hill.  “Why?  You’re not going anywhere.  Not for a couple of years anyways. Maybe never if you don’t graduate.”

“I won’t graduate.”

He said it with such certainty, Mike almost believed him.  But Ben was smart, lousy grades aside, and he had a healthy streak of self-interest. He knew that without a diploma, he'd be stuck on the ranch forever.  It was just Ben being Ben.  “We’ll see,” Mike said evenly. 

There was a pause - long enough where Mike thought Ben intended to ignore him.  He spoke finally, quietly, more to himself than to his brother.  “We’ll see,” he said.