Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“What if there are two babies in there?” she whispers. “Twins run in my family.”
There it is. The open door I need to walk through, so I do.
I stare up and into her eyes. “Twins run in mine, too.”
She breaks free of my grasp as her hand jumps to cover her mouth. “What?”
I know what she fears. She’s still adjusting to the idea of giving birth to one child. The remote possibility that we’ll be parents to two newborns in a few months is unfathomable to her.
I’ve thought about it over and over again since I found out she’s pregnant.
I haul myself back up to my feet and adjust the waistband of my sweatpants. “There are twins in my family, Delia.”
“Are one of your parents a twin?” she questions, her gaze searching my face for the answer. “Or do you have twin cousins? Are the twins identical or fraternal?”
I reach for both of her hands. “Delia.”
She takes my hands in hers and squeezes tightly. “What is it? Did something happen to one of them?”
“I’m one of them,” I say, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “I’m a twin.”
Laughing lightly, she shakes her head. “What? You’re not a twin.”
“I’m a twin,” I repeat, the words sounding almost foreign to me. It’s been so long since I’ve said them out loud. “I have a twin brother.”
Her bottom lip quivers. “Since when?”
A smile ghosts my lips. “Since we were born twelve minutes apart, thirty six years ago.”
“He looks just like you,” she says, not asks. “He does, doesn’t he?”
There are differences now. We’re still the same height and judging by how he carries himself in a suit, we’re near the same weight.
“He has a beard,” I whisper. “His hair is slightly longer than mine.”
She nods slowly. Tears fall down her cheeks. “Victor.”
Stunned, I step back, my hands darting to the center of my bare chest.
“I don’t…I don’t…I’ve never met him, or seen him for that matter,” she stammers through all of that. “I think my neighbor met him, though.”
Confused as hell, I brace a hand on the wall to keep myself upright. “I’m not following.”
She moves closer to wrap her arms around my waist. As she stares into my eyes, she explains, “I think my neighbor, Mr. Winters, met Victor in Indianapolis years ago.”
“Vic lived there for a few years,” I blurt out. “He was married back then.”
“He waited tables.” She goes on, “Mr. Winters met him then. The morning you left my apartment, Mr. Winters saw you in the lobby of our building. He described you to a T, but then he said the man he saw was named Victor. I didn’t put the pieces together then.”
“Until now, you didn’t realize one of the pieces existed.”
She nods. “Why haven’t you ever mentioned him? Why hasn’t Matt ever told me that you’re a twin?”
The next words out of my mouth are laced with shame but they’re my truth. “I haven’t spoken to my brother in years, Delia. It’s been years.”
Her unending compassion is shining bright this morning because after I confessed that I haven’t spoken to Victor in years, Delia took my hand and brought me back into the kitchen.
She finished making the tea and prepared a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and a bowl of fresh berries.
I didn’t say a word as I watched her move around my kitchen as if she belonged there. She does. I want her here or I want to be in her home on Park Avenue every day when I wake up.
Our address doesn’t matter to me. What does matter is that we journey through this life together.
I push my plate aside and glance at her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“You didn’t know me sooner.”
I smile at that. “You know what I mean, Delia.”
“I know that you’re a good man and sometimes shit happens.” She runs her hand over my shoulder. “I have three brothers so I understand how strained those relationships can be at times.”
The difference is that she is close with all of them. Matthew has told me as much.
I had the same bond with Victor until our parents’ marriage imploded. Our father forced us to take sides. Neither of us wanted to but I stood by our mom. Victor felt compelled to do the same for our dad.
The argument that ensued between the two of us was laced with accusations and punctuated with actual punches.
We never spoke again after that day.
Twenty years is a hell of a long time to hate one of the people you love most in the world.
“We said things to each other that can’t be forgiven.”
“Words are words,” she whispers. “They sting. They can fucking destroy people, but there is almost always a way back if both people want that.”
“He doesn’t want it,” I assume based on the fact that I’ve never heard from Vic.