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She’s a twin. Don’t make a big deal about it. Please.”
    â€œReally? A twin? Is it like you hear in magazine articles? Like a double? Like you know what she’s thinking and she knows what you’re thinking? A twin, wow.”
    â€œNo, not for us. We’re fraternal, so we’re no more alike than regular sisters. Except maybe, being the exact same age, it’s a little different. I don’t know. But we’re definitely different from each other.”
    â€œDifferent how? Do you look different? Do you both like coffee or tea? Stuff like that?”
    â€œWe look like sisters, I guess. But the physical resemblance is stronger than any other kind. We’re just different. It’s like she’s the evil twin. She yells, she throws tantrums. She actually stamps her feet if she doesn’t get her way. It’s one thing for her to be like that with me, but she actually goes up against our father. The two of them go at it, and there I am, on the sidelines, hoping it will go away. Miss Goody Two Shoes. Which I have to be, to keep the peace. So, that’s how we’re different. The evil twin and the good twin. One can stand up for herself, one can’t. But she got first choice.”
    â€œMaybe it’s the evil twin and the scared twin.”
    â€œIs there a difference?”
    â€œI guess I’m more like your sister. When I’m mad at someone, it’s like they have their hand in front of my face and I can’t see anything else until I say something and get that hand away. I could do with a little of your restraint.”
    â€œWell, I pay a price. I wish I had a little of your balls.”
    â€œBalls aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Speaking of which, what do you think about hum jobs?”
    Ruth’s head spun with the non sequitur, the raunchiness, and the nosiness. After a second or two, Vivian continued with another non sequitur, and Ruth realized that not all of Vivian’s questions required an answer.
    â€œSo, let me tell you about the wild family stuff here in the village. People marry each other, but for only about five or six years. Then they switch partners. Really, I’m not kidding, they switch. But there’s more. The village is divided into seven sections, and everyone tries to get a spouse from a different section from the last one they had. The idea is that, when they die, they want people from as many sections as possible dancing at their funeral. Neat, huh? Kind of like spinning as many tops as possible at the same time. Oh, and speaking of sex….”
    Even their disagreements were stimulating, like the times they argued over Vivian’s macho attitude toward the health precautions.
    â€œCome on,” Vivian said. “What are the odds that one tiny little microscopic amoeba will happen to wind up in the one ice cube made with unboiled water that I happen to have in my coke? And that the amoeba will be in the part of the ice cube that melts into my drink? Besides, the Africans have been drinking the water long before we got here with our superior knowledge, and they’re not all sick and dying, are they? They’re doing a whole lot better than some Americans I know.”
    â€œBe rational.” Ruth tried to convey just the right degree of scientific objectivity. “Why take any chance of getting an amoeba in your system? The Africans have adapted their internal chemistries to their environment over generations and generations, but you don’t have time for that.” She dropped her voice a few tones when she added, “And besides, who wants to have to put their shit on a slide for the Peace Corps doc to look at under a microscope? Euuuuwww!”
    Vivian did get sick. During the worse of it, she was weak and green, though the visiting PC doc dropped off meds and assured them it would pass. What little strength she had went for vomiting and diarrhea, then she’d rest up for the