The Other Half of Me: Part Three

When Sarah said the surprise would excite her mother, she had no idea just how much. She was right though, we did trick her. Her mother thought I was her and rubbed my head and wanted to know where my hair went. I had laughed uncontrollably as Sarah walked in and said “Psych!”

We expected her mom to laugh too, or at least be a little stunned, but instead she screamed at the top of her lungs and ran from the room.

“Did we break her?” I whispered to Sarah, who stood motionless as if not knowing what to do next.

“Um, well, I really don't know. I need to go check on her, wait here.” She left the room and went down the hall towards where the sound of a door slamming was heard just minutes before.

“Shit,” I mumbled to myself. I had hoped we didn't give her a heart attack. I couldn't live with myself if I had killed Sarah's mother.

After what seemed like forever, I heard a door open. “Emily? Can you come here?” I heard Sarah's voice from down the hall.

“Sure,” I answered shakily. I stepped slowly down the hall, afraid of a seeing her mother's dead body sprawled across the floor, all because we decided to prank her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chanted quietly with each step.

I neared a room at the end of a long hall with the door half open. I peeked in, but saw only darkness at first, so I gently pushed the door open to see Sarah holding her mother at the end of her bed, who was holding something in her hand.

“Yes? Is everything okay in here? I am so truly sorry.” My voice came out half-cracked.

Sarah just silently motioned me to come over to where they sat. “You need to see something.”

Now I was really, really confused. What was going on?

I sat next to her mother on the other side. “Okay.”

The woman, not as old as Sarah made her out to be—actually barely old at all, looked over to me, her face bathed in a weak light coming from her nightlight by her bed. She reached over and shoved a picture into my hand.

I looked down at it, and saw two perfectly content little babies, naked as jaybirds, still not cleaned yet from their birth, laying on a table covered in a blanket. “What is this?”

“I told him! I told him that dead baby wasn't mine! I knew it!”

I just gaped at her in horror. “Are these babies dead?”

The woman laughed. “Oh no my dear, they were very much alive in that picture.”

I was confused. “Did one die?”

Sarah cleared her throat. “She was told one died. My mom had an emergency cesarean section, she was seventeen, and they put her under. She never saw both her babies alive, except in this picture, which wasn't until two weeks after she went home from the hospital. I guess when she saw it, she realized that wasn't the same baby they showed her after she woke up. She mourned the passing of that baby, as if it were her own. But when she saw the pic, she realized it wasn't hers at all. But nobody believed her.”

I looked up at Sarah. “You knew about this?”

“No, not until just now. My mom never told me.”

“I could not have my daughter's birthday be shadowed by her sister's supposed death-day. Even though I always knew that baby wasn't mine. Everyone thought I was just a grieving mother. Nobody thought for one moment I was telling the truth,” her mother explained.

For the second time that day, I was in shock. Was she trying to say I was that baby that was lost? How could that even be possible? Could this woman be my real mother?

“I don't know what to say.” And I was telling the absolute truth. I had no idea what to say, or even think.

The woman cupped my face in her hands. “It's okay. You don't have to say anything at all. I am just so overwhelmed to have both my girls under the same roof again. Even if I never see you again, I know you're alive and okay. That's all I needed to know. But I hope you choose otherwise and stay a part of our lives.”

Tears streamed down my face. “What if I am not her. Don't we need a blood test first before jumping to any conclusions?” I could not accept this gift without proof. I could not be hurt again and lose someone else I thought of as a parent.

“A mother knows her daughter when she sees her. But yes, get the blood test, my dear. If you feel you need one, I am all for it,” she said through her own tears as she withdrew her hands.

I could see Sarah by herself next to her mother. “Sarah? Are you okay?”

“Um, yes? I guess so. I am just totally weirded out right now. When I said I was convinced you were my sister, I assumed maybe a half-sister, if anything at all. Not an actual twin.”

Her words bothered me on some level. My dream for a sister was finally possibly coming true and she sounded like she was bothered more than excited. I was not one for leaving things unsaid, so I prodded her. “Does having a twin scare you?”

She shot me a look that I could not decipher. “FUCK NO it doesn't!! Are you joking? This is amazing!” She jumped to her feet. “I have a stupid brother who is always making fart jokes, even though he's thirty-fucking-eight. I never had anyone to do girly shit with like shopping and makeup.”

I looked over to her mother who sheepishly grinned. “Guilty. I was born a tomboy. I can fart and burp with the best of them.”

Sarah came over and grabbed my hands. “Oh wow, we have so much to make up for, Emily. Wait—Mom! What was her name at birth?”

She looked off into the distance, as if caught in a memory. “Willow,” which came out as both a whisper and a breeze.

Sarah crinkled her nose. “Willow?!” she said, incredulous. “Willow? What were you thinking?”

She turned to us. “I was a hippie wannabe, girls. I couldn't help it. I was also seventeen and Willow was a hip name back then. I was going to raise you two in a commune and that name would have fit right in.”

“Oh gawd. Make me barf, mom. A commune?” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Why did you name me Sarah then? Why so normal? Not that I am complaining or anything.”

“Your father wouldn't let me name both of you hippie names. He named you Sarah, and I named you,” she pointed to me, “Willow”.

Sarah lost her happy face. “Oh. You never told me dad named me.”

He mother smiled. “Oh Sweetie, we both agreed on the names. I loved the name Sarah as much as I loved the name Willow. Sarah was your father's mother's name. She was a lovely woman.”

She seemed a little relieved by her mother's explanation. “Oh, okay then.”

“Sarah, they have DNA tests at Walgreens. You think we should go pick one up?”

Her face perked up. “Ooh sister shopping! Let's do it!”

She grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hall to where our purses lay.

“Girls, it's snowing out. Maybe you should wait and stay here. Emily can stay here tonight,” her mother called from down the hall.

Sarah's eyes got wide. “Sister. SLEEPOVER. Yes! Let's go get your car, stop by your place for necessities and come back here for popcorn, movies, and karaoke!”

I couldn't help but laugh at the amount of energy this woman had. “Yes, but remember, I can't sing.”

She put her arm around my shoulders. “Remember, we are most likely-probably-pretty much for sure-twins. So that means I can't sing either. But ask me if I give a flying rat's ass?”

“May I ask, are you on speed or high or something?” I asked, only half-joking.

“Only on life, Sister. Only on life,” she exclaimed as we walked out the door.