The museum was as quiet as Margo expected. Renaissance art doesn’t have a big draw in the Ohio Valley. But, she had discovered the painting at a time of her life when she was lonely and confused, and it revealed more than she could ever say in words alone. She hoped this polaroid of emotion displayed on the gallery wall would give her the strength she needed.

     Her thoughts drifted to the Acropolis in Athens. It was 1967. Gazing at the Parthenon, she shielded her eyes from the harsh sunlight. Instead of the empty pediment that long ago displayed Athena and Poseidon, she saw herself sculptured in marble between two men. Alexandros on her left, Leonidas on her right.

     Alexandros whispers in my ear, “One day, they will need to know.”

     “Only when the right moment arrives,” I say.

     “No,” Leonidas’s voice was firm, “The truth will only hurt them.”

     The sound of footsteps caught her attention and she quickly glanced behind to find her twins making their way across the gallery. Castor with a carefree smile across his face seemed to float on air as he walked on his toes. Antonis with a blank expression moved with a more contemplative and inflexible stride. Their handsome appearances are a reminder of the two men from her youth when time felt infinite; prior to the invasion of sickness and disease, prior to deciding to tell her sons the truth.

     “Mom?” Antonis’ voice brought her back to the gallery. “Why didn’t we meet at the doctor’s office, instead of an art museum?”

     Castor stepped in front of his brother. “Mom, you look wonderful today,” he said, embracing her and kissing her forehead.

     “Our meeting could have just as easily taken place at the doctor’s office,” Antonis remarked.

     “No, this time it needed to be here,” she said.

     Just as Antonis was about to reply, Castor gave him a disapproving glance. “Of course, mom. We know how much museums mean to you.”

     The sound of her sons’ voices resonating in the gallery room made her reflect on their stark differences. They not only had distinct appearances, they also experienced the world in contrasting ways. Antonis was pragmatic, inflexible, rarely willing to compromise. Castor saw the beauty in everything, accepting the flow of life unfolding before him.

     “Mom, what did the doctor say?” Antonis asked again, this time with a more serious tone.

Castor took her hand. “Mom, I know this must be difficult. Take as much time as you need.” His voice was quiet. “Maybe we should have lunch at the café and talk about it?”

     “No, I’d rather sit here on this bench for a moment,” she said.

     She sat on the bench, placed her head in her palms, and rested her elbows on her knees. “I just need a moment to gather my thoughts,” she said, sensing a surge of heat on her forehead.

     Castor sat next to her and gently rubbed the back of her neck. “Mom, you can always count on us.”

     “Yeah, take as long as you need,” Antonis uttered with a sigh.

     Except for the faint hum of air in the ducts, the room was filled with silence. It was as if the world had come to a halt. A sense of anxiety crawled up her legs and settled in her stomach.

     “Go ahead, Margo. You have nothing to fear,” whispered Alexandros. “The moment has arrived.”

     “No, do not listen to what he says. The boys should never know,” Leonidas said.

     Adjusting his position on the bench, Castor fixed his gaze on Margo. “So, mom, tell us, what is this all about?”

     Rather than joining them on the bench, Antonis paced back and forth in front of the painting.

     “It’d be better for mom if you just sit down and relax,” Castor told him.

     “That’s easy for you to say, Mr. Whimsical,” Antonis said.

     “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Castor.

     “You know exactly what it means,” said Antonis.

     Not acknowledging his brother, Castor turned to Margo and said, “Go ahead, mom, tell us what’s going on?”

     Antonis pointed at Castor. “You know damn well what’s going on!”

     Castor looked up at Antonis. “Hey, have you forgotten we’re in an art museum?”

     “Come to think of it, you probably don’t,” said Antonis.

     “Don’t what?” said Castor.

     “You have no idea what has been happening.”

     “Yes I do,” said Castor.

     “How could you know? I’m the one who’s been handling everything here while you ran away to California.”

     “What do you mean?” said Castor.

     “Well, you ran away once. Are you going to run away again.”

     “You’re just disappointed and miserable with yourself because you didn’t,” Castor said.

     Antonis glared at his brother. “Living a weird Jim Morrison life on Venice Beach in some junk-house isn’t my idea of an aspiring lifestyle.”

     “At least I have a mission,” said Castor.

     “You’re crazy,” said Antonis. “Maxing out credit cards to feed the homeless is not my idea of a mission.”

     Listening to her sons bicker back and forth reminded her of the two men, and for a brief instant, she could almost feel the presence of Leonidas and Alexandros next to her, sharing in the pride and sorrow that comes with the passage of life.

     “Boys, please,” said Margo. “This is not the time to argue. Our time is limited — “

Castor’s eyes got bigger and his eyebrows raised.

     “I asked you to meet me here because — ”

     “Limited ? How limited?” asked Antonis.

     “Let her finish,” said Castor, his eyebrows drawn together.

     She removed her purse from her shoulder and placed it onto her lap.

     “It’s what I expected. The doctor confirmed it. I knew it was more than my memory fading.”

     “So, what exactly is it?” asked Antonis.

     “The cancer in my lung has taken a turn for the worse,” she said, fidgeting with the zipper on the purse.

     “What do you mean? How much worse?” asked Antonis.

     Castor sighed. “There you go again. Trying to fit everything in a nice little box. It’s more important to figure out what we’re going to do about it.”

     “One more reason we should have met at the doctor’s office. We could have talked about the options,” said Antonis.

     “Nothing can be done,” she said, reaching in her purse for a tissue.

     “What do you mean? There must be something,” said Antonis. “We’re wasting our time at this museum when we really should be talking to experts.”

     “Ease off a little, Antonis,” said Castor. “Can’t you see she’s struggling.”

     She felt a rush of heat running up the back of her neck. “The doctor gave me a prognosis of three months, at the most.”

     “I’m so sorry, mom,” said Castor. “We love you and we’re here for you. We’ll make things as comfortable as — ”

     “Three months!” said Antonis. “We need to get another opinion.”

     “No, Antonis, nothing can be done,” she said.

     “Go ahead, Margo, tell them,” said Alexandros.

     “Be wary of consequences,” Leonidas said.

     “There is something else I need to tell you,” she finally said, wiping her eyes with the tissue.

     “Something else?” said Antonis, waving his hands in the air.

     “Come on, Antonis, cut all the drama,” said Castor.

     She gazed up at the painting and saw a glimpse of herself in Leda’s face, a likeness bringing both sadness and relief to her heart, a glimpse of her own mortality. There would be no escape. The end was near.

     “Tell them now,” said Alexandros. “This is the reason you asked them to come..”

     “They should never know,” demanded Leonidas.

     “Yes, they need to know. There’s only one more thing left for you to do,” said Alexandros.

     Breaking the silence, Castor asked, “Mom, do you feel like talking more about it?”

     Antonis rolled his eyes. “It’s going to take more than just talking.”

     Maybe she should rest a bit,” said Castor. “I agree we should get another opinion, but perhaps we should talk about it later.”

     “Okay, maybe you’re right,” said Antonis. “It looks like she might need to — ”

     “Boys, please. You’re missing the point here,” she said. “I’ve brought you here to tell you something really important.

     “What on earth could be more important than you dying?” asked Antonis.

     “Antonis!” Castor’s voice was not gentle now.

     Margo stood and walked over to the painting. “Look at this painting with me, and let me tell you a story.”

     “Mom, we have more important things to discuss than some old Greek myth,” said Antonis.

     “No, you need to understand. I am dying. I have to tell you something very personal.”

     “Personal?” said Antonis stepping closer to the painting.

     Castor stayed on the bench, wiping his eyes.

     “Yes. Like Leda, there were two men in my life,” she said, looking down. “It was long ago and — ”

     “Mom, why are you sharing this with us?” said Castor. Standing up from the bench, he placed his hand on her shoulder. “Who you were involved with before we were born doesn’t really matter. You’ve always been enough for us.”

     “Just a moment,” Antonis interrupted, moving closer to her. “You’re saying I have a stepfather?”

     She inhaled deeply.

     “It’s not about the cancer. I lied to you,” she said, looking up at them.

     “What part of all of this did you lie about?” asked Antonis.

     “The reason I asked you to have your blood tested had nothing to do with the cancer.”

     “I knew it all along,” said Antonis. “I had a strange feeling something wasn’t right.”

     Taking her hand, Castor used his fingers to massage the space between her thumb and index finger. “It’s okay, mom. Take a deep breath and then tell us what you’re trying to say.”

     “I used the tests to answer a question I always thought I knew the answer to. I had to uncover the truth.”

     “Truth about what?” said Antonis.

She sighed.

     “It revealed what I always thought. Your DNA doesn’t match.”

     “We are fraternal twins. Our DNA won’t match,” said Antonis.

     “Mom, you’re not telling us anything new,” Castor said, glancing over at his brother.

     “You’re not going to tell us that we were adopted, are you?” asked Antonis.

     “No, you’re not adopted,” she said. She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand.

     “Then, what is it?” asked Antonis.

     “Return to the painting, Margo. Leda will help you,” said Alexandros.

Leonidas stepped closer to her. “They are not ready. You’re making a mistake.”

     “Don’t listen to him, Margo. He doesn’t understand the Greek way,” said Alexandros.

     “I could have kept it a secret, and you would have never known,” she said. “But, suppose you’re in an accident. You might need blood. Suppose you discover your DNA doesn’t match. You’ll wonder why. You’ll have questions and I won’t be here to answer them.”

     “What are you talking about?” Antonis asked.

     “See, I told you. They are not ready,” said Leonidas.

     Margo stepped to the side of the painting and turned to face them. She felt a tingling sweeping up her back.

     “First, I’ll remind you of the myth,” she said, pulling her shoulders back. “Zeus took the form of a swan and raped Leda the same night she slept with her husband, Tyndareus, king of Sparta.”

     “Mom, were you…” Antonis’s voice caught.

     Castor wiped his eyes again, but said nothing.

     Antonis cleared his throat and tried again. “Were you raped?”

     “Raped?” Margo laughed, “No, no. nothing like that. Look here at the painting.”

     “Mom?” Castor’s voice broke.

     “Who gives a shit about a stupid swan in a painting?” Antonis practically shouted.

     “Look at this,” Margo said, pointing at the painting. “See how Leda embraces Zeus. He came to her as a swan. She laid two eggs from which twins were hatched.”

     “Twins?” Castor croaked, “like us?”

     Margo smiled at him. “Yes, and see how lovingly Leda is looking down at her newly born twins.”

     “What on earth does some Greek myth have to do with us?” asked Antonis.

     Margo smiled again, “They are the result of having intercourse with both Zeus and Tyndareus within a short period of time.”

     Castor and Antonis looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

     “See, I warned you,” said Leonidas. “It’s too painful for them. They will never understand.”

     “Leda laid two eggs,” Margo broke the silence. “Each baby had a different father.”

     “Do we have different fathers?” Castor gasped.

     “What? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” said Antonis. “It’s only a myth. It doesn’t happen in real life.”

     “The scientific name is superfecundation.” Margo said quietly.

     “Superfe… what?” Castor tried to understand.
     “Superfecundation.” Margo repeated, “It’s the fertilization of two ova from the same cycle of sperm from separate acts of intercourse.”

     “So, it’s possible to have twin babies from two separate biological fathers.” Castor said, putting it all together.

     “So, you’re telling us we have different fathers?” said Antonis.

     “Yes, but… both of you still have a part of me.”

     “That’s so fucking cool!” said Castor.

     “Are you saying my father is alive?” said Antonis.

     “I’m saying life is complicated, and it doesn’t always end up like you want it to,” Margo said, turning back to the painting.

     “You didn’t answer my question,” said Antonis. A crimson blush crept onto his face. “I don’t want to hear anything else about this sick Greek myth.”

     “Cut it out, Antonis. We shouldn’t waste this time arguing,” said Castor.

     He gently placed his arm around Margo’s shoulder. “Mom, I just want to spend this limited time with you. I don’t care about what happened years ago. I only care about now.”

     “That’s easy for you to say. You never cared about having a dad, but I did,” said Antonis, his body trembling.

     “You are running out of time,” said Alexandros. “Tell him, before it’s too late”.

     Margo stepped away from the painting and faced Antonis. She felt her heart pounding in her chest. “Antonis, your father is alive…and…and — ”

     “And what? Tell me.”

     “He wants to meet you.”

     “What?! I can’t believe this! You’re telling me he’s been alive all this time?”

     “I know, but — ”

     “I’ve mourned him my entire life.”

     “I understand, but — ”

     “How could you understand? You lied to me! You always told us he was some kind of Greek hero. I should have never believed you!”

     “I know, but you need to — ”

     “Don’t ever tell me what I need.”

     Castor intervened and stood between them. “Hold on, Antonis. Put yourself in her shoes. She must have a reason.”

     Cutting Castor off, Margo defended herself, saying, “My sole intention was to shield my sons.”

     “I don’t need your protection,” said Antonis, pointing at her. The only thing I need is to never see you again.”

     “Antonis, please. I love you,” she said, extending her arms.

     “You don’t love anyone, except yourself!” In a burst of frustration, he marched out of the gallery.

     With a heavy heart, she lowered her head in despair.

     Castor put his arms around her. “Mom, it will be okay.” He waited a second. “You know how Antonis gets. Just don’t let him go. Over time, he will come around.”

     “Yes, Castor is correct. As time passes, his brother will come to understand,” Alexandros said.

     “Now, the damage is done,” said Leonidas. “Solace will not be found.”

     On the opposite side of the gallery, a painting of a forest adorned the wall. Margo imagined herself walking on the pine-covered path, sunlight filtering through a canopy of branches. The freshness of a gentle breeze soothed her. The lightness of her feet made it feel as if she was levitating. She stopped and looked up and saw a pair of Eclectus parrots sitting on a branch. They cuddled closely, their beaks nearly touching. Abruptly, a strong wind stirred the trees and the birds scattered from their perches with fluttering winds.

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