Stephanie was my twin sister.
Born and raised in the busy city of
Birmingham in the UK, I took pride in having a sister that was born a few hours
after me. Though, we were fraternal twins, I always saw a part of me in her. I
was taller than the average height of a boy of sixteen, and wore deep blue
contact lenses even though my natural eyes were tawny brown. Stephanie on the
other hand, had a tiny physique. Her eyes were hazelnut and her hair fell down
her back like a sea goddess. Stephanie and I lived in a three bedroom house
with our parents. We chose to share a room when we moved into the house, and
left the last room to our grandmother (nan) who moved in a year later.
We experienced almost everything
together. Whenever she jumped, I followed. There wasn’t anywhere you would find
her and you wouldn’t find me, and vice versa, except gender specific places
like toilets, dressing rooms etc. Nonetheless we were inseparable. We had
completed our GCSEs and we’re looking forward to college. Everything seemed to
be going well, until one dreadful evening.
It was the eve of our sixteenth
birthday. I helped Stephanie comb her hair as we sat in the living room,
watching a family sitcom with our dad and nan (our grandmother). Our mum was
busy in the kitchen preparing our dinner, and she loved to cook alone. As we
arrived at the end of the TV show, we heard a knock on the door, followed by
the sound of our door bell. “Stephan, go check who’s at the door,” my dad said.
I grimaced, jumping to feet and heading to the door. Once I got to the door, I
saw a chubby lady through the peep-hole on the front door. She held an umbrella
and wore a warm grin.
“Who’s it?” my dad asked.
“It’s aunt Marie,” I said, smiling.
I opened the door for my beloved aunt and greeted. “Hello, aunt Marie, I’m glad
you could make it,” I said.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,”
she replied and made her way to the living room.
That night, we had the longest
family dinner ever. The dining table was filled with roast, marsh, pudding,
salads, gravy, lasagne and more. We talked all night until we had consumed our
desserts, and I felt it was time for bed. But my father had something to say.
“Stephan, I believe you’re growing
into a fine young man, and I’m really humbled to be your father.”
What’s with the
weird speech? I thought.
He continued, “There’s something
we’ve kept from you your entire life and I feel you’re old enough to handle the
truth. Your mother and I had tried for so many years to have a child, but we
couldn’t. So we decided I bore a child with a friend of ours who lived in
France. And I did, not knowing your mom was already pregnant for you. It was
too late. I had impregnated both your mother and our friend. Our friend, your
aunt Marie, gave birth to Stephanie a month after your mother gave birth to
you. This means your sister Stephanie, is your half-sister. But I want you to
know we love you both very dearly, that’s why we decided to make this work by
bringing up together.”
Tear drops were already half way
down my cheeks. My heart pounded as my hands trembled. “You lied to us,” I
said.
“No dear, we felt you weren’t ready
for the truth. Your sister has always known her real mother,” my mom said.
“What?” I screamed, turning to look
at Stephanie. “You knew about this, and you didn’t tell me. You called your mom
aunt all this while just to hide the truth from me.”
“Because we all knew you’d freak out
if we told you earlier, and I guess we were right.”
“Still doesn’t give you guys the
right to lie to my face. You’re my family, I trusted you.” I jumped out of my
seat and rushed to my room and locked the door. I cried throughout the night,
and Stephanie didn’t bother coming into the room to sleep. I presumed she slept
in the living room or with my nan.
For the next few days, I didn’t
speak to anyone in my house and didn’t eat my mum’s food, so my nan had to cook
for me. I couldn’t look Stephanie in the eyes and call her my sister. To me,
she was an alien. No wonder we didn’t resemble each other. I blamed myself for
being so stupid all these years.
A week after my birthday, my dad
decided to send Stephanie to live with her mom in Paris, because it was holiday
season. He believed if I saw less of her I would miss her and want her back,
but I begged to differ. I wasn’t going to miss the girl who lied to me all my
life. She was the closest being to me and should have trusted me enough to tell
me the truth earlier. I refused to escort her to the airport, and remained in
my room pretending to read a novel.
A couple of hours later, I heard my
mom scream from the living room. I jumped out of bed and ran to check up on
her. My mother wasn’t the clumsy type or the type that screamed unnecessary, so
as I ran down the stairs, a lot of questions popped into my mind. Did
she hurt herself badly? Has my nan slipped and passed away? I was
scared.
Arriving at the living room, I found
her sitting on the couch. She held her phone in her shaky hand, and cried like
she had lost someone dear to her. I looked over my shoulder and noticed my nan
shuffling into the living room. Was it my dad? Did he have an accident? I
grew deeply worried.
“Your father just called me,” my mom
said.
Phew, at least he’s healthy enough
to call. He’s not dead. Maybe it was a colleague at work or something.
“An hour ago, the flight your sister
and her mother boarded crashed due to an opened cargo door.” She paused, trying
to get herself together. “Your sister and her mother are dead.”
It felt like a sword pierced into my
heart. I tottered backwards and fell to the floor. My sister was dead. The girl
who I had spent my entire life with, the only one who stood by me outside the
walls of our house – was gone. I would never see her smile again. I would never
feel her warm embrace. It was all my fault. I sent her to that plane. I killed
her. My twin sister was dead because of me. I would prefer she lied to me for
the rest of my life, than to live the rest of my life knowing I can’t even hear
her voice. Maybe if I had forgiven her, she would be at home with me. But it
was too late. I would have to bear this pain until we meet again.
Stephanie wasn’t my half-sister. She
was my twin sister.
