by Zap Blueberry

I hate looking at myself. The pale, icy blue eyes in the mirror meet mine. My hand pushed my white hair to the side, trying to make it look good. Or at least I hope I look good. I personally do think that is possible. I guess I will settle on good enough.

I headed out into the kitchen and I saw dad reading a newspaper and eating some toast. Bertie sat across from him but seemed a bit preoccupied with his tablet, half of the food on his plate was untouched.

“I’m meeting up with Zeta today.” Dad’s eye peered up from his newspaper in curiosity. “We’re having lunch together.”

The statement seemed to break Bertie’s attention from his device. “Like a date?” He asked.

A huge smile spread across dad’s mouth, “Hell yeah, get that d!”

My face flushed. It seems like he always knows what to say to make me feel embarrassed. That's what happens when you get cloned from someone else's DNA. You more or less become a copy of them, not only physically but mentally. It’s almost like two identical twins who squabble, but in my case, my twin is twice my age.

“It’s not a date, we are hanging out as friends. Two queer guys are allowed to hang out and have things not get sexual.”

“Really?” Dad asked in a curious tone.

“You two would make a great couple, there is a lot of shipping potential.” Chimed in Bertie.

“Shipping potential? Please, for the love of god, don’t ship people in real life!”

“I just think you two would make a good couple.”

“Ugh, I don’t need dating advice from a twelve-year-old!” I glared at Bertie.

Dad tells me he’s just being a “baby gay” and to not argue with him. I don’t get why Bertie has to act like a little know-it-all. He reminds me a lot of our other dad, Al, the man Bertie was cloned from. Al thought he knew better than anyone else. He was a psychotic genius who found a way to clone people using a synthetic womb. He always challenged the limits, even if it meant maybe doing things that were a bit shady. The fact that most of his belongings ended up being taken by the feds after he died, might shed some light on how illegal some of his experiments might have been.

“Are you going to the Pancake Diner?” Dad asked.

“No, it’s a Greek place, Zeta picked it out. Knowing him, it’s probably somewhere fancy. I think Pancake Diner is a bit low-class for him.”

“Good, that place sucks.” This is one of the few things my dad and I disagree on. Pancake Diner is OK.

Sort of wished the two of them would be a bit more positive and engaging with me. The whole situation put me in a bad mood. Why do they feel the need to pester me? Maybe I shouldn’t tell them about my life or what I am doing. But knowing them, they would probably get nosy and find out anyway. Maybe I just want a bit of normalcy in my life. Or am I not allowed to be normal?

***

When I showed up to the restaurant, Zeta was standing out front checking his phone. When he saw me, he gave me a fangy smile and a tight hug. The place was pretty cute and kitschy. There were paintings on the wall of the Greek countryside and vases with hanging plastic grape vines. Along the door frames were Christmas lights, which added a nice bit of detail. Despite sitting in the restaurant across from Zeta, my mind was somewhere else. An old woman across the street seemed to have caught my attention. She was wobbling along with a large purse under her arm. Where is she going? And from that my mind replayed the events from earlier that morning, thinking of better remarks to counter Bertie.

Zeta looked up from his menu, “What will you be ordering?”

“I uh…” I was sitting at the table this whole time and hardly glanced at the menu at all. I quickly flipped through it, “The pizza looks good.”

Zeta looked a bit taken back by this, “I treat you to a sophisticated place like this, and you want to order a pizza?”

“Sure. I’ve never had a Greek pizza. It might even be more authentic than the stuff at Domino’s because it’s made by people who grew up near Italy…and stuff.”

Zeta just stared at me, which made me realize that I might have said something that was just really stupid. Times like this, I really wish there was an undo button in life.

“I was hoping you would be a bit more adventurous.” said Zeta.

“Well, what are you having?“

“The lamb gyro.”

“They have lamb gyros! I love lamb!”

“Did you even look at the menu?” Oh shit, he got me.

I went back through the menu and looked a bit closer at each thing. “A lot of this stuff in here sounds a lot like Turkish food. I really like Turkish food, have you tried it?”

“Greece and Türkiye are near each other geographically.”

I took a sec to think about the world map, “Oh my gosh you’re right! Look at you Lil’ Geography!” I said with a playful grin.

“I am a middle school social studies teacher, it is a bit of a requirement.”

Maybe that was a bit patronizing. God, I sounded stupid, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I was being rude. Like…my mind was somewhere else and I…”

Zeta reached out and squeezed the top of my hand. "You were not being rude. If you were being rude, Blueberry, I would tell you.”

I then heard a faint tapping noise. “What’s that tapping?”

“Most likely my leg.” Zeta said, a bit guilty.

I looked under the table. His leg was bouncing up and down like a jackhammer. 

“Are you OK, Zeta?”

“I am just being a bit fidgety.”

Maybe the kitsch was getting to him. When I sat up, I noticed people were side-eying us with some of the younger kids just staring.

“Uh, would you be OK getting our food to go?” I asked.

***

The restaurant packed our food in styrofoam boxes with a side of fries and a soda. We agreed to meet up at a nearby park. It was quite nice, not too sunny either, however I brought along my sunglasses just in case. Luckily, we found a bench in the shade next to a large oak tree.

“I want to apologize for what happened back there.” I said, sort of guilty, “I should have told you ahead of time.”

Zeta looked at me confused, “Are you talking about the menu? My mind also tends to wander from time to time, so I will not hold that against you.”

“Not that, I just noticed people there were staring. It happens every time I’m out, even more so with Dad and Bertie.”

“People were staring?” Zeta looked up and spotted several park goers glancing in our direction. “[Faya expletive], they are staring! I tend to ignore strangers, so I did not notice that kind of behavior right away.” 

(Zap note: Zeta tends to say random things in Faya. It was annoying at first, but I got used to it. My dad knows a few words in Faya and claims that Zeta is just cussing.)

“You are a very unique looking person. Albinism is quite rare, you should take that as a badge of pride.”

I noticed Zeta was having trouble biting his food. He would pick off smaller pieces to eat. I wonder if it’s because of his long fangs. Most of the Fire-People I have encountered have had much smaller fangs but his poked out even when his mouth is closed. I read this is more common in Fire-People who are pure-bloods which Zeta claims to be. However, I have also heard that pure-bloods are nothing more than pseudoscience and elites hold onto those terms to preserve a hierarchy. Pseudo or not, he is still someone who has to live with having atypical teeth. I wonder if people stare at him too.

I looked up and saw some young women looking in our direction and giggling to each other.

“Did you know I did a TED Talk?” I stated.

“You had a TED Talk?”

“Yeah, it was about being a clone and how I think cloning should be outlawed. It’s close to hitting a million views on YouTube. The chances that someone in Frostpeak randomly came across it and also recognizes me isn’t impossible. I sometimes imagine people recognize me from that, but they are too scared to approach me.”

“That is a positive way of looking at the situation.” Zeta smiled, “Maybe next time I observe someone staring in my direction, I will assume they are one of my 300 Instagram followers.”

I think he also noticed the giggling girls. “You know, maybe we should give the audience a show and make out.”

I definitely shouldn’t have been eating my gyro at that exact moment because I almost choked.

“[Faya gibberish]!” He laughed, “I am just joking Blueberry, do not die please.”

I was able to finally catch my breath, “Don’t say stuff like that when I am trying to eat!”

“Sorry.”

Zeta pulled out his phone and started scrolling through something.

“Are you looking for my TED Talk?”

“Ha, no. I am looking for Turkish restaurants. I want to see if what you said was true, that the food is similar.”

“There is a Turkish place downtown, but it’s a deli. It’s more Turkish in the sense that the owner is Turkish, less so that the food is. Well…I guess it does have some Turkish teas and desserts.”

“We should meet up there next week,” said Zeta. “even if it’s just a sandwich shop.”

I felt a beam of joy and let out an awkward smile. Something about being with Zeta makes me feel less sad. Bertie jokes, but to be honest, I do like Zeta. The fact that he actually wants to continue to spend time around me makes me happy.

After our lunch, we walked around the park a bit and just chatted a bit. I seemed to have forgotten about my weird interaction with my family and my bad memories of Al. I think I was just lost in the current joyful bliss.

After an hour or so, we said our goodbyes. He gave me a tight hug and I almost felt like crying.

I don’t know if he really understands how that little gesture helped me out a lot.