More Oxygen, Rad! by Sam Koenigsberg

At 8, my identical brother and I simultaneously mistook each other for each other. We were at the Air and Space Museum in Ohio, on a weekend vacation with Nanny, and had somehow managed to sneak into the flight simulator from one of the Apollo’s. It was the type of remarkable thing that only happens to twins. For years our mother had called us by the wrong name, tried to give us unique haircuts, dressed me in navy, Dana in white. Somehow things would always get mixed up-- we would loose the same tooth at the same time, my hair would wait for his to grow, clothes would get swapped in the laundry.

In the simulator Dana perched anxiously at the throttle while I flipped switches. He gave me a quick command as we approached the red planet--

“More oxygen, Rad! We’re coming in for the landing.”

I looked up at him and he looked down at me and for an impenetrable moment we were both unsure who was Rad and who was not. That was the closest I ever came to realizing love; maybe it was love. Dana died two years latter from respiratory failure and I felt like I could never be sure of anyone again.

As I got older I learned to replace any real emotion with cynicism and indifference. I lifted weights constantly, instead of relating, and made maybe three real friends after grammar school. One of them was Neil, my freshman roommate from Lavender Boarding. At this point I couldn’t stand anyone contriving to accommodate or be friendly. Neil was genuinely selfish, an unabashed asshole. We hit it off immediately.

When he told me about the beautiful girl in his Linguistics course with piercing features who loved Noam Chomsky, I took his word for it and, I suppose for a second time, fell in love with someone other than myself. This was a different love, I told myself, based more on the perfection of Sue Ellen’s chin, less on her ethical character.

For me, personality was as circumstantial as appearance and therefore just as superficial a quality to find love in. I was a jerk because of my genetics, because of my childhood, because of Dana dying. There was no intrinsic fault to my condescending manners. They were the result of outside forces like hormones, just as the sculpted muscles in my stomach were. I guessed I really did love Sue Ellen (though she was constantly preaching), approached her behind a veneer of romance for a few years, and eventually made her my wife. But my love faded as her definition did. Pretty soon, when she had moved up to a size 10, I begin to be mean to her like everyone else in my life. I was really starting to regret the whole monogamous thing because it was far too intimate and yet not intimate enough. I missed having sex; I was tired of making love.

On a chance remark Neil mentioned the possibility of switching wives one weekend. I was game and let him know. Sue Ellen was a ballooning organic-- at worst nauseating obnoxious, at best wonderfully off-kilter. Neil’s wife Didi was slim but all pretense. Despite her lollipop face doused in artificial sugar, I was willing to bet she wore racy panties and would keep her head down when asked politely. That’s how I imagined her while in our bathroom, shaking violently over the toilet with one hand vice-locked to the shower wall, trying to keep my knees from buckling. I was almost there when Sue Ellen knocked on the door.

“Radley?”

“One moment baby.” Could she hear the masturbation in my voice?

“Rad, I need to talk to you.”

I was at the cusp of letting Didi really have it, but the twinge in Sue Ellen’s voice forced me flaccid. On my forehead a few beads of sweat were just forming. I turned on the sink to drain Sue Ellen out and rinse myself clean of embarrassment. For an extra minute I let myself stare at the bathroom mirror tracing topographical rings around my cheekbones and wishing somehow that I could ditch my wife, ditch Didi for that matter, and have what I wholly wanted more than anything else. But what was that?

When I opened the bathroom door Sue Ellen was draped over our bed in a fetal curve, sobbing in heaves. Her black hair was tangled in a jungle nest. She looked hideous.

“It’s my mother Rad, she’s dying!” I tried to feign sympathy, but it was no use, she was ruining our weekend plans.

“You're always pulling this shit with me, El. Your mom’s been dying for three years. You know we have dinner plans tonight.”

The sobbing stopped and Sue Ellen pulled her black nest back with both hands, flattening it behind her ears. She looked shocked, then suddenly relaxed. Her cheeks were a pale cherry. She tried to rub the mucus from her mustache lip but it flaked against her face and dried white with the salt of her tears. She spoke without inflection. It should have made me melt and die right there.

“My mother’s dying and you want to fuck your best friend’s wife. Go fuck her!”

I was going to.

“You know you’re a real jerk, Rad.” She broke her stare and searched for something out the window. “I’ll be in Houston, if you want to talk.”

My love for Sue Ellen had soured in the last six months; I knew this. As her thighs got larger and smile more transparent I began to lose patience with the theatrical antics. Lately all she did was complain about intimacy and stuff her face fat with avocados. Watching her pull out of the driveway in the little red Honda, I could not help but feeling relieved. She stared up at me in the circle window, through the tint of her front windshield, and mouthed an expletive. Or was it a love kiss?

The problem of a fourth for dinner still remained and I knew that Neil would be angry. My stories about Sue Ellen’s acrobatic techniques were why he suggested the swap in the first place. He also liked the idea of Didi pleasuring another man. Swapping was a way to avoid deceit and conquer the sterility of monogamy. I knew he would let me take Didi, even without Sue Ellen, but it was a game and it had to be played a certain way.

Eva Holzer was a girl from the office I occasionally slept with when I got in fights with Sue Ellen. She was unhappily married to a man who perpetually fell short at everything. It was a long shot but I knew that she had a hard time resisting random adventures. You had to talk dirty and quick to Eva, catch her before she had a chance to weigh the situation.

Three short rings latter she picked up the phone. I was direct, told her the plans; that she’d get a free dinner and a romp in Neil’s castle; that I’d screw her later the next day. Her voice was fragile--I almost felt bad--but I had her if I wanted.

“I’m supposed to sleep with Neil? That’s it?”

Yes, that was it.

“What do we talk about? I mean his wife will be there, right?”

“I don’t know. I guess we just talk about normal things. Didi knows all about it. Besides, there’s supposed to be tension.”

“I’m not sure Rad…It sounds kind of horrible. What about Sue Ellen?”

But Eva was coming and I knew it. A few more pushes and--- yes, I would meet her at seven. If infidelity was wrong then it was also erotic. Eva was bored and there was something dangerous about switching partners that was too enticing to ignore. The opportunity might never happen again.

After hanging up the phone I experienced a sudden flash of guilt. El would be getting on the plane to Houston in a few hours and, leaving me after all. She was heading into space, just like Dana on that flight simulator, and, just like Dana, I wasn’t sure if she was coming back.

Considering this, it was amazing how quickly I dropped her from my thoughts. Instead I did a light workout on my BowFlex. With each downward pull of the cords I stared longingly at my muscular arms, at their perfect symmetry of veins and tendons. Later, in the shower, I rubbed suds in measured circles around my pectorals. Didi would be impressed.

As it got closer to seven, I began to wonder if I should call the whole thing off. The thought of dining with three other cheats was making me sick. Why was I having such a hard time relating to my friends and family? Why did they seem so pathetic? It was becoming difficult to talk to anyone but myself.

When I picked up Eva this immediately became apparent. She couldn’t stop complaining about her impotent husband who slept with her once in the last two months yet somehow got her pregnant.

“You’re pregnant?” I asked.

“No, not anymore.”

“Good.” That type of thing would have bothered Neil.

I rolled the window down and tried to listen to the rush of the turnpike.

We got to The Kite’s Tale ten minutes early but I noticed that Neil’s sports car was already parked. He was preemptively salivating for my wife. I prepped Eva for the introduction.

“Are you chewing gum?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Spit it here, that’s disgusting.” I gave her my hand and she dropped a pink wrinkled wad into my palm.

“That’s not fair Rad.”

“What?”

“You could be nice. I’m only doing this for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Rad… I think I love you.”

Great. She was showing me this by sleeping with my best friend. But this was the kind of backwards logic Eva worked by and I knew she was sensitive.

“I’m sorry baby. It’s just that Neil thinks I’m bringing Sue Ellen. I’m kind of nervous about the whole thing. Don’t be upset if he balks at you at first.”

But I didn’t have to worry; Eva was timid but extremely excited. I could tell by the way she pulled at her left ear lobe. The mystique of switching dates was more than enough to convince her of acting the part.

Inside the restaurant I pushed her into a dark jacket room, closed the door, and slid my tongue down her throat.

“Energizing?” she asked as I finally let my lips release.

“I’m trying,” I told her, but was obviously disappointed

We left the closet and found Neil and Didi at a corner table. The restaurant was very expensive and modern. This bothered me. The ceilings had plastic fixtures that reminded me of a cheap Lego spaceship I built as a child with Dana. The tables were low and Asian. From the eclectic décor I assumed the food would be some cliché fusion. How typical of Neil.

Didi wore a tangerine dress lined with black concentric circles that formed a bulls-eye right at her cleavage. Appetite revived, I decided to see the affair through. Neil was having second thoughts. He was rude, blatantly ignoring Eva. A splintered toothpick drooped from his lip.

“Where’s Sue Ellen?”

I shrugged, moved aside and let him get a good look at Eva’s snakeskin top. He wasn’t going to put up much fight; I could see this right away. He peeled back his lower lip to stretch his face.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled then leaned over and asked Didi whether she approved. She was fine with it. We quit the discussion so not to ruin the sexual tension. Talking openly about the swap would have killed the awkward thrill -- the sin of cheating. By conversing about everyday nothings like politics and the circus we managed to avoid the subject and pretend indifference. The conversation was as false as Eva’s snakeskin dress. I wondered how she was going to take it off. It didn’t really matter. We pressed on with more trifles--

“Have you seen the new Expo?”

“Can’t say ‘yes’. Can’t say ‘no’.”

“And now I’ve heard that two glasses of red wine is recommended”

“Honestly Didi, you need to go to the circus!”

Underneath the table a fair amount of groping was going on. Neil had his hand firmly planted in Eva’s valley and Didi was maneuvering her foot in ellipses around my inner thigh. Meanwhile my hand was settled on the burn of my own stubble, pulling in wisps at my chin. Both the girls were eyeing me, and I was beginning to wonder about Neil. He kept sending me short winks that were oddly seductive.

The Kite’s Tale was a dipping restaurant. All the food came with various sauces separated into small oblong bowls. I remember two of them—sesame curry and chipotle lime—only because Eva spilt them on my black pants. Didi, who had polished off four highballs, offered to rinse it off for me with a bit of club soda but I declined. I was tiring of this game.

Excusing myself to the bathroom, I walked to the back of the restaurant, caught a bulbous gentleman, who looked to be a waiter, by the wrist and asked him to “Hurry on with the check”. The sooner this was over the better. For a moment I lost my cool: Sue Ellen, I’m sorry. Come back. But she was gone.

By the time I finished staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and returned to the table the check had been paid. Neil was flittering with excitement. He ushered the girls out the door but held me back to make certain all was square.

“Eva?” he did a type of whistle thing with his tongue. “Why didn’t you mention her to me before?”

“I did. Remember when Sue Ellen moved out for a month?”

“That was the girl?”

“Yes.” I was glad I hadn’t dragged El into this. Neil was repulsive. “Can we get on with this? I’m not really sure how it works.”

“Right. I’m just saying.” What was he saying? “We’ll drive back to my house, separately of course. You and Didi will go one way—any room I don’t care—me and Eva will go another. Anything else that happens there after we don’t talk about.”

“Why are we even talking about it now?” He didn’t answer; his eyes were fixated on Eva.

Following Neil back to his house proved difficult. He would randomly speed up and dart around a perilous curve. I’d lose him for a minute only to find him decelerating at a near stand still in the middle of a straightaway. I suppose that Eva had something to do with this. Lucky for me, Didi was too busy fumbling with the radio dial to try much conversation. The stations were all static and I told her to turn it off but she insisted on finding some late night disc jockey whose voice was identical to my own. This appealed to me. She brushed my hair from my eyes a few times and asked if she could shift which she proceeded to administer very suggestively.

We reached Neil’s at half past twelve, drove past the security gate, around the Japanese bushes and the

Maplewood—more of Neil’s exotic fusion—until we arrived at the main entrance. I opened the car door for Didi and she mouthed a heavy yawn that killed me. For the first time I noticed her thick makeup that caked a creamy face on her face. The front door hung ajar; Eva and Neil had already escaped within. I took Didi by the hand and lead her up the first spiral staircase I saw, down a long wooden hallway, and then left into a floral room with a large couch and television. On the wall was a painting of a silverback gorilla chewing on long shoots of celery. Didi asked me to turn on the set. By the time I’d found a channel she was asleep, snoring softly on the couch.

For a while I was unsure of myself. Was I ready? Bending over, I cupped Didi’s sleeping breast and brought it to my face only to be instantly repulsed. The perversity that had brought me this far was gone. Why was I here and where was Sue Ellen?

Three hours passed under the drone of television. I tried cartoons, sports, and soft-porn but nothing seemed to work. Meanwhile, Didi drooled continents on the couch.

At some point I left the room and wandered back down the staircase. Blind turn after blind turn left me lost in the heart of the mansion. A faint repetitive banging was coming from a room within. I followed the sound until it echoed on all sides of me. At the end of the hall the beating came alive. I opened a door where the bangs seemed to reverberate and found myself face to face with Neil.

Soaked through and through by a slimy sweat, Neil held a squash racquet in one hand and a clenched fist in the other. His face was an atomic red. A blinding white light emanated behind him from the spaceless pod of the court. He spoke in angry coughs of exhaustion--

“What are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Well did you?”

“Did I sleep? No.”

“You know what I’m talking about. With Didi.” He looked ready to strangle.

“No Neil. She fell asleep before I even tried.”

“So you were going to?”

“I don’t know. I thought that was the premise. You screw my wife I screw yours.”

“But you didn’t bring Sue Ellen!”

“We’ve been over this. What does it matter anyway? You seemed happy enough with Eva.”

Neil spun around and smacked the small rubber ball sharply. He tried to hit it again off the rebound but it deadened before his feet and he crumpled to the ground. Short squeaks played from the souls of his sneakers as he kicked against the pine floor. What once had been a cocky playboy was now a sobbing mass of blubber and whelps.

He looked like Sue Ellen earlier that night on our bed and again I felt the nauseating rip of disgust in my stomach. Slamming the door behind me, I ran hard through the maze of Neil’s mansion. Up flights, out a terrace, back through a silver kitchen. Finally I came to a stop by a steamroom somewhere in one of Neil’s basements.

I took off my clothes, let them fall around my ankles, and spun the thermometer to the highest level. A great fog gradually cloaked the tiled room. I slumped onto a bench that bordered the perimeter and waited for the humidity to engulf me. I sat like this for some time.

What happened next must simply be said. As the water diffused from my pores and my flesh shriveled to bone I became aware of another man, another growing self, who was now sitting across from me. Rising upright I told him to come join me. His face and body were mine. Or were they Dana’s?

Yes, now as I looked closer, the man was definitely Dana as a man. But Dana was just the image of me and so I was unsure. Was that why I was here, with myself, because of Dana? The steam made my breathing heavy and I remembered his death. I knew myself and he knew myself but nobody else could possibly ever understand. Maybe I did love El for more than her body, but she wasn’t me and Dana was. So was the man in the room who had just appeared.

Less deflated, he took me in my arms and gave me a tight naked hug. I marveled at the way he knew my body and so I kissed him on the eyes the way I knew he liked to be kissed. There were other regions explored: my umbrella scar on his lower back, his trapezoidal arrangement of freckles on my left shoulder, our flat knuckles. Before we went further I had to voice my doubt--

“Understand, if this is to be you and this is to be me and then you as me, it can be nothing more than that.”

He understood and agreed completely. Imagine passioning with yourself, with your brother as yourself. Everything that I had struggled for or wasted in he knew and accepted. It was beyond that. There was no imperfection in our honesty. It was unconditional and for once I was truly happy. He was me and had been me the whole time.

I lay on the floor of the steam room, but reached up and switched off the heat.

More Oxygen, Rad!

The steamroom chamber began to lift off. I was in our spaceship now and, finally able to breathe, heading towards Houston.