Chris Abani - The Secret History of Las Vegas

My name is Dr. Sunil Singh, he said. You must be Fire, he said to Fire, and you must be Water.

Dr. SS, Fire said, and laughed.

Sunil smiled wanly. Please don’t call me that, he said. You may call me either Sunil or Dr. Singh. Sitting down, he pinched the crease of his pants between two fingers and smoothed it out.

I’ll just call you Doc, Fire said.

I wish you wouldn’t, Sunil said, but Fire showed no sign he had heard him. Sunil studied the twins. Water was sitting on the examination table, feet nearly touching the floor. He was wearing pants and a shirt that was unbuttoned but no shoes, and Sunil wondered whether his shoes had been left at the scene. Fire had pushed the left panel of the unbuttoned shirt behind his head and Sunil could make out his caul draped like a thick fleshy scarf. Why hadn’t they had it removed, he wondered.

Have you been treated well, he asked.

No worse than usual, Fire said.

Are you used to being treated badly?

Look at us, Doc, Fire said. Of course we are.

And when you say “we,” are you speaking for your brother, too?

Yes, Doc.

Is that true, Water, Sunil asked.

Twins have an unusually high incidence of left-handedness, Water said.

Sunil smiled. This must be what Salazar meant; Water avoided direct questions. Sunil tried a different approach. I didn’t know that, he said. But did you know that polar bears are left-handed?

Bats always turn left when they exit a cave, Water said.

Don’t get him started, Doc, or we’ll be here all night, Fire said.

Does Water talk like that often, Sunil asked him, glad to have drawn a response.

Yes, Fire said.

The voices of people settling into the next cubicle came over the curtain. Across the room a baby was crying. Medical personnel walked back and forth; their shadows against the curtain looked like a puppet show. Fire looked Sunil over, taking in his three-hundred-dollar shoes, his gold pen, the Rolex, and the tailored suit pants.

You don’t look like a county employee, he said.

I’m not, Sunil said.

Who do you work for?

I’m here to conduct a psychiatric exam, he said. Do you know what that is?

Conjoined twin, Fire said sarcastically, not retarded.

Good, Sunil said, unfazed. Do you mind if I conduct a basic physical? Check your vitals?

“Vital” is from the Latin for “life,” Water said.

Yes, Sunil said, careful not to indulge Water. May I examine you?

Fire nodded.

Water?

Water nodded.

Sunil conducted a brief but thorough exam and with the exception of telling them what he was going to do from time to time, and asking them to clamp down on thermometers or open their mouths, the process was conducted in silence and the twins surrendered with ease to Sunil’s quiet authority.

I need to take some pictures, he said. Is that okay?

Whatever, Doc, Fire said.

Good, Sunil said, reaching for the Polaroid camera in his coat pocket. Please stand against the wall.

Water shrugged off his shirt and did as he was told. Sunil lifted the camera to his face and took a picture.

Turn to your left, Sunil said to Water, who turned, bringing Fire straight into focus.

Please put your shirt back on and sit, he said to Water.

Water sat and arranged the shirt so Fire was visible, hanging off his side; clearly they had done this before. Sunil waved the Polaroid around to dry, and something in the movement looked like he was fanning away a bad smell.

You don’t have to do that anymore, Fire said. They dry by themselves.

Sunil ignored him and took a manila file from his briefcase and flipped it open. With extra care he stapled the photos to a blank sheet of paper.

How odd, Sunil said, rubbing the photo where Water’s mouth was. He looked up at Water. Is your mouth always slightly open?

I call him Lizard Mouth sometimes, Fire said. His tongue flicks.

Why is that?

Probably some birth defect, Doc, I mean, look at us.

And what is this tattoo, he asked, pointing in the photo to Water’s chest, over his heart. These lines — looks like a Chinese character.

It’s a hexagram, Fire said, from the I–Ching. It means Fire and Water.

A hexagram is a combination of characters for the elements, Sunil said. It can mean many things. Isn’t that the point of the I–Ching? Precision is important.

Even at the risk of sounding like an asshole, Fire said.

Even then, Sunil replied, reaching for the hole-punch on a medicine cart. He lined the paper up exactly and punched two clean holes and then threaded the paper onto the metal clasps. When he looked up Fire was studying him intently. Their eyes met; Fire smiled, Sunil flinched. Fire’s teeth were rather canine looking.

You should get a tattoo, Fire said.

No, I don’t want a chup, Sunil thought, returning in his mind to the slang of his youth.

In Vegas you can get a tattoo on your eyeball, Water volunteered.

Sunil thought about Asia and the tattoo on her shoulder. No, he wouldn’t be getting one anytime soon.

I’m just going to ask some questions. May I record the session?

The twins nodded.

Good, Sunil said, setting a digital recorder between them.

Full names, please.

Water Esau Grimes and Fire Jacob Grimes.

Date of birth?

December twenty-first, 1969.

Address?

No fixed abode, Fire said.

Where do you live, then, Sunil asked. Did the police not ask for ID?

We live off the grid. Don’t believe in IDs, Fire said.

So what did you tell the officer?

He didn’t press it. He was too busy trying to get us here.

I see, Sunil said, not seeing at all. You must be staying somewhere.

Motel over by Fourteenth, Fire said.

Sunil asked for and wrote down the address. Maybe he could get Salazar to search it.

Occupation, he asked.

King Kongo the African Witchdoctor, Fire said.

Circus act?

No, Fire said. Sideshow.

Marital status?

Single, Fire said.

Fred loves me, Water said.

What is your sexual orientation, Sunil asked.

Fred is a girl, Fire said.

Are you married to her, Water?

Water shook his head.

I would still like you both to answer the question regarding your sexual orientation.

Water here is straight, Fire said. And I have no penis.

Iguanas have two penises, Water said.

Thank you, Sunil said. Have either of you had any trouble with your mental health before?

No, Fire said.

Water shook his head.

Have either of you seen a psychiatrist or been admitted to a psychiatric facility before?

No, Doc.

Sunil nodded at Fire, then looked pointedly at Water.

Charlie Chaplin once won third place in a Charlie Chaplin look-alike contest, Water said.

Sunil shook his head, irritated. Do you have any problems with your physical health, he asked.

No, Fire said.

Water shook his head.

In the past?

Yes, Fire said. I get burned regularly in my work. I’m a fire wizard.

A fire wizard?

A very good fire wizard, Water said.

Just to clarify, Sunil asked, is this part of your act?

Yes.

So outside of your act you don’t think you are an actual wizard?

Like in Lord of the Rings ?

Yes.

No, no, I don’t, Doc, ’cause I’m not suffering from dementia.

That’s the wrong term for what you would be suffering from if you thought you were a wizard, Sunil said. And you, Water, are you a fire wizard too?

Wrong element, Fire said.

Sunil ignored him. Water, he pressed.

A cockroach can live for nine days with its head cut off, Water said.

Good to know, Sunil said to him. Is either of you currently on any medication?

No, Fire said.

Water shook his head.

Have you taken medication regularly in the past for any condition?