Mom closed her eyes.
“She found me in April.”
“April? As in six months ago?”
“She wrote first. Then we met at a diner.”
“You met my twin sister and came home to have Sunday dinner with me? You watched me talk about Emily’s pregnancy and said nothing?”
“I was afraid you’d hate me.”
“So you let me keep living without her?”
Mom had no answer.
My phone buzzed again. This time a text appeared from the unknown number.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was told you would know by now. Please don’t take the blankets to the hospital until we’ve spoken.”
Beneath it was a photograph of two women sitting at a diner table.
One was my mother.
The other looked so much like me that I had to grip the chair to steady myself.
We shared the same brown eyes and the same crooked smile. Even the little crease beside her nose.
