From the bleachers in the empty gym, Jose Calderon stared out at the basketball court like a general surveying the field on which his men will soon die or a supermarket patron surveying a promotional jar of jellybeans to guess how many jellybeans there are. A voice sounded, suddenly, from behind him.
"Could you hit it from here, Jose?"
Calderon's eyes, green like the Spanish Sea, did not move, nor did he say a word. The voice continued.
"You could hit it from here Jose, couldn't you? You could hit it from anywhere. Having the best three-point percentage in the league last year was nothing for you, wasn't it?" Jose felt the bleachers move, a shifting of weight that told him the owner of the voice had settled down next to him.
"Do you know why I say it all the time? Monta have it all? It's because I don't, didn't you know that, Jose? Of course you know it. You know it better than anyone."
Finally, Jose turned to meet Monta's gaze. There were so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to hug Monta, and tell him repeatedly that it wasn't his fault like in Good Will Hunting, both because it might help and because it'd be pretty funny. He wanted to say he understood. What he did say was this:
"Listen. Sure, maybe we were created in a genetic experiment to make the perfect point guard, one with unlimited range and incredible court vision, who could still drive and finish faster than you could blink. And sure, maybe that gamete couldn't hold all of that together and split. But that doesn't mean you're not complete. That doesn't mean you're not a whole person. Other than the experiment part, that's basically how twins are made, Monta."
"TWINS DON'T HAVE SOULS," Monta screamed in despair.
"That's not...no.." Jose sighed. Even though they were exactly the same age, he sometimes wondered if emotional maturity had ended up in his zygote, as well. Certainly, knowing things about science had. He tried a different tack.
"Hey, isn't that why we did this, though, Monta? Isn't that why we both joined the Mavericks? So we could be together, bring our skills together, and win a championship?"
"Hey guys," Devin Harris said, from a little farther down the bleachers. "Did you just like, not notice me here? I mean, I heard literally everything'veyou said. Also, your story doesn't make any sense. If you're the product of a genetic experiment to make the perfect point guard, how come you both suck at defense?"
Monta was almost looking up now. Jose pressed his luck. "Though we may not always be on the same team, I'll always be here for you Monta. That's what family is."
Monta smiled, at last, grabbed Jose's hand. "My brother from exactly the same mother," he said. "Also, the Spanish Sea doesn't exist. It's called the Iberian or Balearic sea". Jose started at him in astonishment. "How did you..." Monta winked. "Monta have it all. Especially geography. And psychic abilities." Jose laughed.
"Also, have you guys heard of like, Chris Paul? Point God? Ring any bells?" Devin said.
Monta and Jose got up and left the gym.
"You guys are really weird!" Devin shouted. "Super weird!"