Momo Twins
They opened their eyes to each other at twenty-seven weeks.
by Nina Miller
A probe skated over Alyna’s turgid abdomen, following stretch marks until it found its intended target. A heart rate registered with a whoosh whoosh whoosh before panning to another rapidly beating heart.
“Twins!” The technician looked up. Alyna and Jared looked at the screen with uniform expressions of excitement edged with terror.
“Twins,” they whispered to each other in shock.
“Want to know their sex?” asked the tech.
“Gender is a construct. They’ll decide.” Alyna squeezed Jared’s hand as he said this.
Identical twins A and B floated in amnion. They opened their eyes to each other at twenty-seven weeks. Soon, their thoughts reached each other.
“You’re hogging all the nutrients,” said A, bobbing like a boiled egg in a jar. Small for dates, they struggled to keep up with B’s growth.
“We share our placenta. Not my fault your umbilical cord is a dud,” said B sucking their thumb.
“It’s not a dud… you are. Move over,” said A, kicking out, forcing B’s head onto Alyna’s bladder.
Alyna went to pee, freeing up space for the two of them. Both of them stretched.
“A temporary reprieve at best, dear sibling. It’s only a matter of time before I reign supreme as you whittle away to nothing. Perhaps I’ll absorb you. Wouldn’t that be fantastic,” said B.
B loved to needle his wombmate. This was the only way to survive an enclosed environment with its constant lub-dub, lub-dub, and intestinal borborygmi. B wished their mother would stop eating beans.
“I’m a fighter,” said A, arms in a fencer’s pose. “I’ll fight my way out of here and leave you behind.” Both twins started tussling, their cords twisting and turning, threatening to tangle.
Alyna had Jared put his hands on her belly. “Look, they’re dancing.” The twins heard her say.
“Just the sweetest,” said Jared.
“Oh, they are not ready for us,” said A.
“Agreed. They’re just twenty years from the womb themselves Mere babes having babies,” said B, shaking their head.
“Can we trust them?” asked A.
“I had a chance to be in a solo womb with a powerful influencer and was shuttled here at the last minute. I can’t trust anyone,” said B, knees akimbo attempting crossed legs.
“You can trust me,” said A.
“Why should I?” said B.
“Well, I got your back these past six months.”
“That is just how you are positioned.”
“Listen, with your brains and my brawn, we make a good team. I’m not sure what type of world is out there,” said A.
“From what mother listens to, it seems like many unsolved murders. Having a flunky… er friend to watch out for me may be safer.”
“I could be that funky friend,” said A, curling in the fetal position.
“I’d like that,” said B, snuggling closer to A.
B lifted their foot, releasing the pressure on A’s umbilical cord for the first time in weeks. Perhaps it’s best if they were a little bit bigger. A small bodyguard wouldn’t be prudent.
Nina Miller is an Indian-American physician, epee fencer, and creative. She loves writing competitions and nursing cups of chai. She is honored to be in the Wigleaf Top 50 for 2024. Find her @NinaMD1 or ninamiller.bsky.social. Read more at ninamillerwrites.com
