Okay, so this is a first for me. I’m not sure it’s a good idea, but Anton is in my head, so I suspect it’s best to get him out. This will be a weekly post. It will be unusual for me because Anton’s journal, such as it is, will be written in first person.
I give you Anton Worth’s journal…
I’m nothing special.
I’m not like my brothers, or even my sister, my parents for that matter.
All of them are amazing athletes, self-assured and knew exactly what they wanted to do with their lives from almost the moment they left the womb. Maybe that’s the problem. You see I’m all alone in the world. Not that I don’t have a family. I have a huge and loving family that I love being part of. In a family filled with twins, I’m not. A twin. I’m all on my own. My older brothers are identical twins, so identical that for the first two years of their lives they had to wear bracelets with their names, so they knew which was which.
I’m still not entirely sure they didn’t swap them, because Per, that’s Peregrine, the oldest Worth child, he’s a practical joker and you can never really tell if what he says is true. I’m sure that Berg is frustrated with him every day of their lives, that’s his twin, but it could be Per for all we know like I already said before. Then there are the fraternal twins, Deacon and Sorrenson, they’re younger than me and oh so serious. Sorry, that’s what we call Sorrenson, I’m sure she must feel something like I do, she’s the only girl and nobody, I guess not even me cut her any slack in a family filled with Amazon’s. I’m just six feet tall and sometimes, when I’m at home, I feel short.
They all shared a womb, and yes I know technically we all shared the same womb, but I often get the feeling that they all spent their time in said womb, plotting and planning and deciding exactly what they wanted to do with their lives. Me? I suspect I spent my time sucking my thumb and playing with my toes and wasting all that good planning time because I had no-one to bounce ideas off.
There’s another way I’m the odd one out. They all rhapsodize about the smell of the ice and how they feel like they belong when they have sharpened blades strapped to their feet and they’re travelling at breakneck speed across a sheet of frozen water. Me? I’m fucking ecstatic if I am still on my feet when I let go of the barrier. Yes, the spawn of a hall of fame hockey player and an Olympic medal winning ice dancer can’t skate. Okay, so I can skate if I don’t want to do anything more than cross the ice without embarrassing myself, but anything stronger than a forward line and a shaky direction change and I’m toast.
So, now my parents are part owners of the newest hockey franchise in the NHL, I’m sure they bought into the team because they wanted somewhere their son could feel at home. No, not me, my baby brother. Deacon, or Net as we call him at home. He’s the starting goalie, he’s a good kid. Though I suspect at twenty-four I should start calling him a man, but he’ll always be the baby. Sorry is always there to remind him. They may be twins but she is ten minutes older. Anyway, we all knew a long time ago, not that anyone said anything to him, but last year he came out. According to the scandal sheets he’s the only gay man in the NHL. Which is bullshit, he’s just the only one with balls enough to come out publicly. But each to their own. Sexuality is your own business, there is no reason why you should have to tell anyone what your preference is, but we’re proud of him and proud of the path he’s forging in the world.
Since my skating is so sub-par that upright is considered an achievement, I couldn’t very well join the family business and skate on a hockey team, could I? Besides by hockey standards I’m not big enough, so I did something that I’m sure my family still don’t understand. I went to college and studied acting and literature. I did a few off-Broadway plays, got a few extras roles in a couple of daytime dramas, then landed myself a role in a weekly buddy-cop show. It might have only been a small role, but it was recurring and from that I was offered my own show.
Now I have the lead in a weekly network crime drama, I’m on-again, off-again dating my delicious co-star and I’m more than happy to spend my off time flying home to visit my parents and siblings. I’m not stupid, though I’m pretty sure my family would tell you that I tend to word vomit if you let me get a word in edgewise, I know that I got this gig because I’m easy to work with and easy on the eye. That’s not vanity talking either, it’s just the way it is in Hollywood. You need to work with what you got, and I got a serviceable package that people like to look at so I use it to my advantage wherever I can. I won’t be able to do this forever and I don’t want to either. I want to write, screenplays, novels, whatever, I’m going to take my fame and make it work for me.