An Infinite Number of Parallel Universes by Randy Ribay

follow her directions.
    “I want french fries,” one says.
    “Me too,” says the other.
    “Well, this ain’t no restaurant,” Dante’s grandpa says.
    The twins begin pounding their fists on the table in unison. “
French fries! French fries! French fries!
”
    Uncle Jason puts his hands atop theirs to cease the noise. “Grandma cooked you guys some delicious food so least you can do is eat it. Once you finish half your plates, you can go play.”
    “Won’t take but a minute for me to make them some fries if they can sit still that long,” Dante’s grandma says as she reaches into the freezer.
    “Can we go on Dante’s computer?” one asks.
    “No,” Dante says.
    His grandma points the greasy spatula at Dante. “When Jesus was in Bethsaida and that big ol’ crowd came to him, you think he kept those five loaves of bread and two pieces of fish all to himself? No, sirree. He shared that bit of food and fed five thousand people with it. You think if the Son of God were on Earth with us today, he’d tell someone they couldn’t go on his computer?”
    “Fine,” Dante sighs. He grabs another piece of bacon to console himself.
    And just like that, the twins are off to Dante’s room.
    Everyone enjoys the peace and quiet that forms in their wake. They eat their breakfast and sip their coffees in silence for a bit, and then conversation gradually resumes. They talk about Uncle Jason’s new teaching job downtown. Somebody retiring. Somebody’s new baby that everyone agrees is ugly. Aunt Jewel’s candle-making business.
    And then the twins reappear in the kitchen. Grins stretch across their faces. Their eyes are wide and swing between Dante and their parents. They say nothing but look like they’re about to burst.
    Everyone turns, waiting for them to speak.
    But each just keeps prodding the other.
    “Out with it,” Uncle Jason finally says.
    “Dante likes boys!” they shout at the same time and then erupt in a fit of giggles.
    Everyone turns to Dante. He feels like he’s on an operating table with his chest split open for surgery.
    “Now what you two going on about?” Aunt Jewel asks.
    “Come see!” they say and then dart out of the kitchen toward Dante’s room.
    “What they talking about, D?” Uncle Jason asks.
    Once again, everyone looks at Dante, expecting him to explain. But he can’t speak. He can’t breathe. He feels lightheaded and nauseous, like he’s either going to pass out or throw up. He just shakes his head like he has no idea. But suddenly he remembers. Last night, after browsing the dating site, he didn’t clear his browser history. They must have pulled up the site somehow.
    To his horror, everyone rises, their chairs scraping back at the same time. They all head upstairs.
    Except for Dante. He remains at the table with the last piece of bacon, too sick to his stomach to eat it.

To Strengthen Us
Sunday
    When church ends and everyone scoots out of the pews, Dante’s grandpa grips his arm and steers him down a hallway toward the pastor’s office. His grandma follows. Nobody says anything.
    They arrive while the pastor is still in the sanctuary chatting with the other members of his flock, so they wait outside his office door. Dante leans back against the wall, staring at his ill-fitting shoes. His grandpa folds his arms over his chest and reads the announcements posted to the bulletin board in the hallway. His grandma stands with her eyes closed and hands clasped together.
    After some time, the church clears out and Pastor Paul approaches them. He ushers them into his office. It is a cramped, windowless space. Only a simple wooden cross hangs on the faded yellow walls. Papers clutter the desk around a large computer with a beige casing. Dante wonders if it even works. The pastor finds his seat behind the desk. His grandparents sit in the only two visitor chairs, and Dante stands behind them.
    Dante’s grandpa then recounts what the twins found on Dante’s computer the previous