The Secret Sister by M. DeLuca (leveled readers txt) 📗

He nodded and sped away. I checked my watch. I had to meet Guy at home and I was already late.

24

Identical twins bond in the womb. As early as fourteen weeks after gestation they’re reaching for each other. At eighteen weeks they touch the other twin’s body more than their own. Scientific researchers have even filmed grainy videos of tiny swimming embryos, their transparent fingers lingering over each other’s faces, gently caressing delicate eyelids, fragile noses and budding ears. Looking out for each other even before they’re born.

I believe it was like that for Birdie and me. Even though we had our own amniotic sacs, we shared a womb. We sensed each other’s presence right from the start. We were inseparable. Bound to each other.

Things went wrong much, much later.

According to Dennis he fought a twenty-four-hours-a-day battle to stop our mom from shooting up heroin when she was pregnant. Maybe in that watery uterine world, Birdie and I could sense the intensity of her hunger. But we had each other to keep away the danger. When we were tiny babies, Dennis said we wouldn’t even take a bath alone. He had to put us both in the water and we’d cling on to each other, slick as a pair of baby seals, longing to be close again.

When I lost Birdie, I felt like half of me was gone. Like the limbs on one side of my body had been amputated. I had to find her to feel whole again. Had to believe in the jigsaw of memories and images that spilled into my head at random intervals, inspired by a particular place or person or maybe even a smell or color.

But Guy couldn’t know any of this. How could he understand what it feels like to lose the other part of you? When you look into a mirror and realize half your identity has been erased and you have no idea where it’s gone.

I changed into something smart but comfortable to go to Gord and Nancy’s. My other clothes were covered with smears of mud and grass from the riverbank.

Pushing that part of the past into the back of my brain, I checked myself in the mirror. It was so much easier to think of clothes. To distract myself with the soothing details of a well-groomed professional appearance.

I dressed in slim, black slacks, a white shell top with a deep V neckline to show off my silver medallion, and a short, fitted houndstooth jacket. I tousled my hair and fastened on a pair of silver hoop earrings. Remembering Guy loved red lipstick, I applied it generously then stood back to gauge the full effect. I hardly recognized the glossy, well-dressed woman who looked back at me.

Success was at my fingertips. I should have been completely happy. And I was to an extent. Happy with Guy, excited at my new job, secure with money for the first time ever. So what was eating at me?

Birdie. Birdie was the missing piece.

Without her I was “a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage”, as Shakespeare so aptly puts it in the words of the tormented butcher, Macbeth, when he muses upon the loss of his wife.

Guy’s face lit up when I ran towards his car. I sat back in the seat, pushed my hair behind my ear and smiled. He was still staring when I leaned over to kiss him.

“You are the sexiest, most incredibly gorgeous teacher I’ve feasted my eyes on. I could eat you up.” He traced a finger around my chin. “Let’s do a little late-night detention duty tonight.”

I pushed him away. “You’re so cheesy. And while I’m at it, please don’t talk in clichés when you’re trying to sell me on Gord’s project. I despise them.”

He shot a pained look at me. “I don’t. I’m just trying to be cooperative.”

“Sorry, it’s just that you’re catching the cliché habit from your dad.”

He pulled out from the parking spot. Traffic was heavy. “He does tend to get carried away sometimes. Then he falls back on hackneyed phrases. But the truth is he’s really very insecure.”

“You’re kidding,” I said as we pulled up at a red light. “He’s the cockiest, most self-assured guy I’ve met.”

Guy took a long, deep breath. “I know he’s all bluster and bravado, but it’s all a front. He comes from humble beginnings.”

“So what’s the problem with that?”

Guy ran a hand through his hair, the other tapped at the steering wheel. “You don’t get it. Dad has to be the best at everything. It’s hard-wired into him. But he’s just a guy who scraped through a general degree in some state university and never made it any further. He built his business with hard work and raw charisma but he’s embarrassed by his poor vocabulary. Tries to compensate by studying the dictionary and memorizing quotable sayings.” He darted a worried glance at me. “Don’t ever mention I told you that.”

“Never,” I said, pulling an imaginary zipper across my lips.

We drove past the Stone Arch Bridge. I turned my head away, those carved initials still lingering at the back of my mind. But I pushed the thought aside and tried hard to concentrate on the way the sun etched Guy’s profile with light.

“So how does he feel about you and your doctorate?”

“You’re too smart to ask me that, Anna. You already know the answer. So tell me.”

The image of those carved initials kept reappearing at the back of my mind. How had Birdie’s initial appeared on top of mine? But I sensed Guy had asked me something important. Something vital to his own self-image. I studied his face, the slight furrow scored between his eyebrows, the long lashes behind the glasses and the faint stubble on his chin. His vulnerability brought a lump to my throat. I wanted to lean against him. Tell him I’d support him whatever happened, so I ripped my mind