The living room lay shrouded in shadow, the only light coming from five flickering candles, their flames dancing atop a cracked plate holding the honey cake. Laughter, faint and free, filled the cluttered space as the twins huddled close, their small faces alight with joy. This was a special day- one that felt like a fragile secret kept from the gloom outside.
"Make a wish now, both of ya," Miriam said, brushing back a stray curl from Mel's face, careful not to let it stray too close to the candlelight. It was time for a trim.
"You go first, Mel" Max insisted, his dark eyes catching the glow of the flickering flames. He watched his sister, a soft smile playing on his lips. Mel giggled, mirroring him, clasping her hands tight over her eyes. Silence wrapped the room as she wished, the only sound the cracking of wax and slow breaths of anticipation.
Miriam, her elbow propped on the arm of the worn-out sofa, smiled faintly as she watched them, her thoughts drifting. What a long list, she mused.
"Stop it, now me!" Max interrupted, nudging Mel aside, as if afraid that whoever granted wishes would only hear one at a time. Mel was too happy to push him in return. Max shut his eyes, the tip of his nose wrinkling in concentration as he whispered his wish under his breath.
The three of them joined in singing the birthday song, their voices weaving through the shadows.
"One, two, three!" Miriam counted down, and with a puff of air, the twins blew out candles, their hands clapped together. Darkness reclaimed the room, broken only by their laughter. For a moment, everything felt perfect-fragile but perfect. The children, unaware of the hitch in their older sister's voice and her watering, drying eyes thought it was all due to the bad cold she'd had for days now.
Mel had tried to nurse her back to health, pressing cold rags to her sister's forehead with a mixture of care and clumsiness, her tiny hands not quite knowing what to do. It had been her first time tending a patient, and though she'd often teared up, she thought she'd done well enough. Miriam was still here, not turned to ashes in the coal stove like some of the others in the neighborhood.
Max, meanwhile had been a model brother, keeping his sisters safe and sound for which she thanked him without a second thought.
After spinning through their makeshift birthday dance, Mel flopped onto the carpet, her head spinning. The honey cake swirled uneasily in her stomach. "Oh, come on, Mel, you're boring," Max complained, hands on his hips.
Mel clamped her mouth shut, afraid that if she spoke, the cake might come back up., Miriam reappeared from the twins-restricted store room, her footsteps soft but hurried. She knelt by Mel's side, rubbing her back in slow circles, soothing her.
"Better now?" She asked.
Mel nodded.
Miriam grinned. "Next year, I'm gonna get you both real gifts, you'll see,"
Max's ears perked up as he clambered into Miriam's lap on the sofa. "What kind of gifts?" He asked.
"Well…" Miriam's voice softened as she imagined it. "I'll get you books, the kind with lots of pictures. And paints- so many colors, you'll paint the whole sky if you want. Beautiful gowns for Mel, a top hat for you, Max… and you'll have steak for lunch, creamy tarts and ice cream for dessert."
Max eyes glinted with wonder, his mouth forming a perfect 'O' of excitement. Mel, however, frowned, knotting her fingers in Miriam's fingers. "What's ice cream?"
"It's like sweet snow, made with cream, berries, and sugar" Miriam explained. "It melts on your tongue,"
What are berries?! Mel wrinkled her nose at the thought. Snow, in her mind, tasted of soot and ash and mud and whatnot, not something sweet. And she wasn't interested in fancy dresses or rainbow colors. The children beyond the bridge looked as if they bathed in a funny-looking rainbow every morning. She preferred the comfort of Miriam's warm sweater and the gray world they knew. Books with pictures were more than enough. Why bother with all those words?
But she said none as busting Max's bubble might bust her lip tonight. Besides she thought that she was being selfish.
"Would you wear a dress too, Miri?" She asked and Miriam's scoff and answer was instant. "No!?" She coughed awkwardly. "I mean… I hate ruffles,"
"Well, without ruffles, what kind of dress would you like?" Mel persisted.
Max nodded eagerly. "Yeah, Miri, you should wear something cool with us"
"Of course, I will"
Miriam's smile faded as she gazed into the dim space between the twins. Her eyes clouded and blinked as if lost in a thought too far away to touch. She rested her hand on their shoulders.
"I…" She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "I have something to-"
BAM!
The sound shattered the quiet. Siblings flinched. The door rattled on its hangs, a jagged crack splintering through the wood.
Miriam frowned, a hand flying to Mel's shoulder as if by instinct. "Stay back," She hissed, holding Max by the arm before he could dart to the door. "I'll see who it is. Mel, let go,"
"No!" The word burst from Mel's lips, surprising her as much as it did Miriam. She clung to her sister's sleeve, her hands trembling. Something felt terribly wrong. Shadows gathered near the door, darker than the rest of the room, and her stomach twisted with foreboding she couldn't name. "No, don't go,"
"Mel, don't be a baby. Let go"
BAM! BAM!
The door shook violently, the frame groaning under the impact. Mel's breath came in short, panicked gasps. "Please!" She begged her voice barely a whisper. Something deep inside her screamed to hold on, to keep her sister close.
Miriam knelt, taking Mel's hand. "See? I'm not going anywhere," She promised giving her a reassuring smile, and another BAM!
Time seemed to slow. With a final blow, the door burst open. A gloved hand, thick and bulky, grabbed the broken frame, forcing it aside. Men spilled into the room, shadows with faces obscured beneath black caps and capes.
"Miriam!" Mel's scream ripped through the air as a burly figure lunged, slamming Miriam to the floor. Her bottom lip bled, her struggles muffled beneath the intruder's rough grip.
Max threw himself forward, fists flailing, but he was too small, too fragile. Another pair of hands wrenched him back. Mel's legs felt rooted to the floor, her eyes wide with terror as her grip on Miriam's sweater finally slipped.