The Good Twin(16)

I couldn’t help but think that his was the problem of the wealthy. When you don’t have money, you don’t care about prenuptial agreements. If the marriage goes sour, the parties split whatever they have and move on.

Just then, the waiter came to take our order. I was glad for the interruption. When he left, Ben bent forward on the table and leaned his chin into his hands. “Charly’s very smart, so you must be, too. It had to hurt you, not to go on with your education.”

Of course it hurt. I’d wanted desperately to study art. I’d watched my fellow high school seniors—even those who hadn’t had grades nearly as good as mine—head off to college while I stayed back home, working sixty hours a week. I’d tried not to be angry at my mother for her illness—most of the time, I understood the feeling was irrational—but sometimes it was too hard to hold back my resentment. At those moments, I’d snap at her and say, “You think I ruined your life? Well, you’re ruining mine!” Now, with the new information Lauren had given me about my mother’s life, I wished I could take those words back, tell her that I loved her, how she was more important than art. But that pain I now carried was mine. It wasn’t something to share with Ben.

“I care about art, about painting. I’m taking classes now. That’s what matters. Not the past.”

“Still, if you were the one who was born two minutes later, you could have had anything you wanted. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Did it? I’d thought about that a lot over the past few weeks. Our mother had chosen one of two identical babies to raise as her own. Growing up, I was often on my own while my mother worked to pay the bills. Other girls my age would go to each other’s houses after school, but I could never have someone back to my house, because no parent was there to supervise. And because of that, I didn’t go to their homes. Other girls would join clubs after school, or go to gymnastics or swimming or Girl Scouts or anything else they wanted. I always had to head straight home. I was lonely growing up. But that experience helped me endure my current, self-imposed, solitary life.

If my mother had chosen Charly, I would have had two parents who loved me. I would have had friends and clubs and my choice of colleges. I would have my own art gallery and rub shoulders with the most accomplished artists. Maybe one would have taken me under her wing, mentored me. I would never have to worry about paying my bills. I wouldn’t be living in The Dump.

My reverie was broken by our waiter bringing our meals.

“So, anyway,” Ben said, “I also wanted to tell you the DNA results have come back. You and Charly are definitely identical twins.”

“That’s no surprise.” As soon as Lauren had shared my mother’s story, I’d known.

“Well, it’s clear you were twins. But sometimes same-gender fraternal twins can look very similar. So, the DNA confirms you’re identical.”

“Does Charly know that?”

“She does.”

“And she still doesn’t want to meet me?”

Ben just shook his head.

The sadness I’d felt just moments ago began to turn to anger. I folded my arms across my chest and tried to calm down.



We finished our lunch in relative silence. I kept thinking about Charly and what Ben had said about her. I knew that studies had shown some personality differences between identical twins, but how could they be so dramatic? I’d never thought much about money because I didn’t have any. Maybe it was different for someone who grew up wealthy. Maybe money was always on their minds. Much as I tried to square Ben’s description of Charly with my own sense of myself, it just didn’t add up. I couldn’t ever see myself caring about how much I would inherit from a parent I loved as he lay dying. And I would never cut off a sister because I feared she wanted my money. I wondered if that’s why Charly had never searched for her mother. Was she worried that her birth mother was poor and would look upon Charly’s wealth as a gold mine to tap?

When we were done, Ben paid the bill—turning down my offer to pay my share—and we walked outside. Ben had called an Uber, but it wasn’t there yet, so I waited with him for it to arrive.

“She’s ruining both our lives, you know,” Ben said.

“Well, she’s certainly made me feel miserable.”

“I asked you earlier whether you thought it was unfair that you had to struggle while Charly always had it easier. I’d like you to answer that,” Ben said.

“It is what it is. My mother made a choice. That can’t be undone.”

“What if it can be?”

I stared at him, an uncomfortable feeling starting to spread through my body.

“What if you could have more money than you ever dreamed possible? What if you could study art at the Sorbonne? What if you could travel to every museum in the world and study the paintings of the masters up close?”

I shook my head. “I don’t believe in what-ifs.”

“Charly’s been cruel to both of us.” He looked around to make sure no one was near us, took my arm, and pulled me closer to him, then whispered in my ear. “I was thinking over lunch: What if Charly died?”

That uncomfortable feeling spread to my chest, and it began to tighten. “Is she sick, too?”

Ben shook his head. “What if someone killed her?”