Why had no-one ever mentioned Mom's twin? Was I the only one who didn't know about her? I racked my brain, trying to remember if there was ever a hint hidden in a story that my mom had an identical twin. I went back through old photos she had said I could have and there was only ever one girl in them. I realized with a chill that I didn't know which girl it was. I thought I could always see my face in hers but was it even her face?
The discovery was made, as the discovery of many family secrets are, at Thanksgiving. After we had stuffed ourselves, those of us who helped cook got to stretch out on the floral couches my grandparents loved and relax as those who didn't help cook cleaned up. I always thought cooking was a way better deal when you didn't have to scrub turkey grease out of a pan, especially because my grandparents refused to put that pan in the dishwasher.
"Who wants a glass of sherry?" my grandfather asked in his raspy once-a-smoker voice. He moved to the globe that was not-so-secretly a liquor cart.
My older brother had been half asleep, claiming the turkey had made him tired, but really it was because he'd stayed up all night before videochatting his girlfriend in France, but managed to hear part of the question. "What about Aunt Sherry?"
"You goof, we don't have an--," I began to stay but stopped when I saw my grandfather was overfilling a glass. The liquor spilling over the vintage drinking glass, past the globe, and onto the carpet.
My brother seemed to snap to reality when he noticed the same thing. "Ah, I'm just kidding, Ivy. Of course we don't have an Aunt Sherry." He looked nervously at my grandpa who had stopped pouring, but was still silent.
"Grandpa?" I asked, leaving the real question unsaid.
My mom walked in then and took in the scene. My brother John half-sitting up, frozen in a ruffled state and staring at our grandpa. Our Grandpa Joe looking deeply into an overly full glass of sherry as though he was in a staring contest. And I was looking manically between them.
"Dad," my mom called softly.
Grandpa didn't move.
"Dad?" she said again, more gently.
Grandpa didn't move.
"Dad!"
Grandpa swirled around and knocked the sherry on the floor. The clatter didn't make anyone flinch. The look of panic and hurt in my grandpa's eyes did.
"She knows about Sherry," he rasped out.
"She what?"
"It's my fault," eeked out John. "I forgot."
"You forgot? How could you forget?"
"Would someone please tell me what's going on?" I begged. Suddenly all of their eyes snapped to me.
"You don't have an Aunt Sherry," my mother said, her tone so flat I couldn't tell what she was feeling. It made me wonder if this was a speech she'd practiced.
"But John said--"
"John has an Aunt Sherry."
"I don't understand." I couldn't rack my brain to shake the clear answer loose, but the woman standing before me would.
"I have a twin sister named Sherry. One day, she shows up with a baby, tells me she can't take care of her, and then just leaves. Never a word beyond a photo of her saying "I'm fine.""
"Are you saying I'm not your daughter?" I said as I worked it out slowly.
She turned to me, eyes fiercely determined, "No. You are my daughter. You have my exact DNA and I have raised you since you were a baby. Do not tell me that I am not your mother."
I wanted to say that I had asked, not stated that, but I was overwhelmed at the intensity of her voice. "Why did no one tell me?" I whispered instead.
"She is irrelevant," said John in a shockingly loud volume. "She left and doesn't care."
My grandpa poured himself another glass of sherry as a silence fell over the room. He did not make a move to clean up the broken glass or the sherry seeping into the old carpet. "I miss her though."
My mom pinched the bridge of her nose, "I know."
(Prompt from The Most Dangerous Random Prompt Generator, suggested by Emily Kleeman)
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