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“We were identical in appearance. But that’s as far as the similarity went.”
I did what he asked and started at the beginning. I was born first, a fast vaginal delivery. But Lucy was breech, and they couldn’t turn her, having to do an emergency cesarean section. I wondered secretly if birth trauma wasn’t responsible for some of Lucy’s peculiarities.
She didn’t sit up or walk right away. Her motor development was delayed. Not a lot, but because mine was on target, it was noticed.
But her speech and cognitive development were astonishing. By the time we were two, she’d caught up with me in potty training and other sensory skills but had advanced her motor skills far beyond mine, running and climbing and spatial relationships, questioning everything. That was Lucy. I already felt left behind.
At night, she insisted we sleep in the same bed. She held me all night, and later, when we were big girls, we refused to be separated and held hands all night.
“But in the morning, she left me. We had different friends, too. Lucy’s friends were thein crowd,even in elementary school. I migrated to the quieter group. Lucy’s crowd was louder, smarter, and more fun.”
“I don’t think it’s that unusual for identical twins to be so different psychologically,” Flynn said.
“But we were different intellectually, too. Vastly different. She was classified as a genius. I’m smart, but nowhere near what Lucy was capable of. We were told that was highly unusual and that twins normally have IQs within a few points of each other.
“My parents refused to let her skip grades based on the advice of a therapist in the school system who believed she needed the socialization. In the end, it’s my opinion that it was peer pressure that led to her death.”
Flynn grabbed my hand. “Oh, Bella. I’m so sorry. How awful.”
“Yes. Iwasa twin. She died of an overdose at Christmas in our senior year of high school.”
The next minutes were spent reassuring him I was okay. But I wasn’t. Like Flynn’s accident had shaken my parents up, it had opened my eyes to the devastation that I had tried so desperately to sweep under the rug.
Lucy’s death was terrible enough, but it was the aftermath that had really set the stage for the next years of anguish. I could barely deal with my parents, who probably could have used my attention at the time, because of a single sentence spoken by my maternal grandfather.
“It should have been Isabel. Lucy was the gifted one. It should have been Isabel.”
The grandparents were with my sibling and me at the house, even though we were old enough to be alone while my parents dealt with funeral arrangements. It would have been better if they’d never been asked to come over that night.
I wasn’t in the frame of mind to share that yet. My siblings had heard it, and I had told my roommates later when we were in nursing school together.
Why had it been Lucy? Lucy had so much promise, so much potential. And then, when I couldn’t pass the nursing boards, my parents’ fury had increased my sense of doom.
Why had it been Lucy and not me?
“I understand the issue with Christmas now,” Flynn said, bringing me back to the present.
“We haven’t been doing much to celebrate. Midnight Mass was all I was able to manage once my anger at God subsided.”
“Do you think the issue with the state boards has anything to do with it?”
“Probably. I felt like she fed me answers through telepathy when we were in high school, and then, when I went to nursing school alone, I had to study harder than I ever had before. That makes little sense unless you’re a twin, I know. We read each other’s minds. It’s how I knew she was in trouble.”
“Were you able to get her help?”
“No, that’s what is so awful. My parents didn’t believe me, and they confronted her, making sure she knew I was their source of information. She separated from me then. She died angry with me.”
I had to catch my breath. This was ground I had never covered with another human being, and now I was telling a relative stranger. Suddenly, I felt sick. I wanted to get away from Flynn.
“What’s happening?” he whispered, reaching for my hand.
“I talk too much.”
“I’ll never repeat it to a soul, I promise you.”
“Would you mind if we called it a day? I’d like to go home.”
He looked disappointed, but what could he say to me? “If that’s what you want, of course I’ll take you home.”
