Michael's Secrets by Milton Stern Page A

one when necessary.
    Michael arrived at Dulles International Airport around 2:00 pm on Friday, June 10, and took a cab to his temporary home in the Mount Pleasant neighborhood of Washington, D.C. The neighborhood looked like a nice area, and there were several people walking their dogs, which made him miss Aunt Clara even more. The apartment was actually the first floor of a townhouse located on Newton Street next to Bancroft Elementary School, and it was all brick with the ugliest blue doors and shutters Michael had ever seen. Eric Sagman said he would be home when Michael arrived to hand him the keys and all the necessary information. Eric had decided to sublet his apartment for a year, even though his assignment in Brazil could be as long as two years.
    Michael exited the cab, pulled his bags from the trunk and knocked on the door to the apartment. When Eric answered the door, Michael’s jaw dropped. He blinked several times, and so did Eric. They were the mirror images of each other. It has been said that everyone has a twin, but this was too weird, even for Michael.
    Eric also stood six-foot-four with closely cropped hair, but where Michael’s hair was still all black with a few gray strands, Eric’s hair was all gray. Eric obviously worked out, but was carrying about twenty more pounds than Michael, some of it around the middle, which Michael also battled constantly, often yo-yoing up and down by twenty or so pounds a year, himself. Eric’s eyes were also green, but they were obscured by Clark Kent style, black framed bifocals. Since Michael didn’t wear glasses, he could be Superman to Eric’s Clark Kent. Eric was wearing jeans and a green T-shirt, a matching green military style belt and Chuck Taylors in the same shade of green. He was just a little too color coordinated for Michael’s taste.
    After the initial shock, Eric opened the screen door and said, “You must be Michael. Come in, come in.”
    Eric’s suitcases were neatly arranged by the door, and once inside, Michael was standing in the kitchen/dining room, and he put his suitcases down. The cabinets were white and built to the ceiling, and there was a green Formica table with matching green chairs. Everything in the kitchen – the pictures, the chachkis , the canisters and the like – had green accents. There were plants on a green baker’s rack by the front window and taped to it were instructions on when and how to water them. Eric led Michael into the living room, and the first thing he noticed was that everything was arranged in threes. Michael glanced back to the kitchen and noticed all the pictures and other items were arranged in threes there as well. The living room had a futon, two matching chairs and a small bistro table by the back patio. Whereas everything in the kitchen was green, everything in the living room was either red or tan with chachkis and pictures to match. It is true what Jews say, Art is what matches your couch, or in this case, your futon , Michael thought.
    Michael then completed the tour with the bedroom, again arranged in threes, but with everything accented in green and burgundy. The apartment was absolutely spotless, just as Michael’s house was.
    “How often does the maid come?” Michael asked.
    “Oh, I don’t use a maid. I don’t like cleaning up after someone. It’s amazing I’m subletting as I usually don’t want anyone touching my stuff. I’m a little obsessive,” Eric said.
    Eric was very energetic, almost hyper, but extremely friendly. Oddly, neither mentioned the fact that they looked so much alike.
    “Can I ask you another question?” Michael asked.
    “Sure,” Eric answered, “I have no secrets.”
    “Why is everything arranged in threes?” Michael asked gesturing around the apartment.
    Eric looked around and laughed. “Well, if you must know, I have mild Asperger’s syndrome or as some call it high functioning autism. I’ve learned to control it over the years, but some of my quirks