Tuesday, June 2, 2015

TWIN SISTER

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.

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