![]() I married Caleb but I prefer Jacob's company. My husbands work together at the architecture firm they started, so whether it is Caleb or Jacob who comes home, they have the same story to tell me about their day. ![]() They have dark hair, blue eyes, long, sharp faces, high cheekbones. They have the same physique, the same haircut, the same mannerisms. It is nearly impossible to tell Caleb and Jacob apart. The ink, Caleb told me on our first date, was mixed with their father's ashes so he would always be with them. They each have a tattoo of their father's likeness on their back. With each passing year, the brothers rewrote their past until they had beatified their father's memory. When he died, shot in the head by a woman he had beaten one time too many, Jacob and Caleb, then fifteen, immediately forgave their father his trespasses-the drinking, his meaty fists against their young bodies, the way he rid them of their mother. ![]() My husbands have a father who was neither a good father nor a kind man. Sometimes they switch places for days at a time.
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