They say everyone has a double. I guess I never thought about it before. It seemed sort of stupid, sort of little-kid-fantasy. Like a ghost story or a fairy tale, people seeing their doppelgangers and then getting sick or dying or something ridiculous like that. I didn't think about stuff like that. I thought about theatre, mostly. I was going to school for it. I mean, I was getting the degree, but it wasn't specific enough, tailored to me. I did makeup and costume design. I was good, too. You could've asked anyone in the theatre department. I was graduating soon, though. I wasn't sure what to do after that. More school, maybe. Somewhere with better classes, real costume classes.
I was adopted when I was still a baby. My parents have always been really open and honest about it, though. They said I had a right to know. They told me everything they knew about my birth parents, which wasn't a whole lot. My bio mom was dead, had died not very long after I was born. My bio dad was gone. Nobody knew where he was, so I guess that's the way he wanted it. It didn't bother me, really. Sure, I was curious and all, but my adoptive parents were my real parents as far as I was concerned.
Because I didn't think about it all that much, the surprise my parents had for me when I came home for Christmas break really was surprising. Not "Surprise, we're going out to dinner" or "Surprise, we got you another brush set."
"Mickey," they said together after dinner, "we need to talk."
I thought I was in trouble. I was 22, but that wouldn't stop them from lecturing me if they found out I'd picked up smoking again.
We went into the living room and sat. Mom brought in coffee, which she hated but I loved, and smiled. Dad had his hands clasped, thumbs twiddling. Nervous.
"Mickey," mom said again, "we have a wonderful surprise for you." She reached for dad's hands to stop the rapid twitching of his fingers. "We got a call the other day from a young woman named Rita. She's your age." Dad smiled now too. "She was adopted just a week or two before you, through the same agency."
I sipped my coffee and tried not to let my eyebrows ride too high up my forehead. I couldn't see what she was getting at. What did some other adopted girl have to do with me?
Mom leaned forward so she could touch my knee. "Mickey, Rita is your sister. Your twin sister." She was so excited with the news. Her mouth was so wide, all her teeth showing. It was like a toothpaste commercial.
"What?" It was a whisper from me. Shock. Disbelief. Maybe the first stirrings of horror. My eyes were big and my knuckles were white on the handle of the mug.
"I know! We had absolutely no idea, but we've confirmed it with the agency. The lady I spoke to said they hadn't been allowed to disclose the information when we adopted you, something about Rita's adoptive parents, and they really try to keep twins together, but--oh, Mickey, isn't this wonderful!" She was flushed. Dad was twiddling his thumbs again. I stared down at the muddy puddle in my mug.
No, this wasn't right. Couldn't be right. Someone was lying. I didn't have a twin--how could I? I didn't feel broken or empty or incomplete. Nothing was missing from my life. Isn't that the stuff they talk about in those "separated at birth" stories? And if I had a twin, I would know, because that's just one of those things you know. I felt cold inside. I couldn't get at the joy on mom's face or in her eyes. I just felt frozen. Everywhere, frozen. Mom didn't notice.
"She wants to meet you," she went on. "I mean, of course she does, after all these years!" She paused expectantly, but I didn't say anything. My hands were starting to shake. My eyes were watering. "She's coming for lunch tomorrow."
I almost dropped the mug. Mom had invited some person, some stranger into the house. Some stranger who said she was my sister. And I would have to pretend it was okay.
(will be continued.)
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