Page 26 of My Twin Sister

I start my car and drive toward Geny’s house. I can already sense her anger like a radio signal I’ve always been tuned in to. I’ve always been able to feel her anger, and I know a lot of times it was pointed at me. I pretended not to notice back then. She didn’t like confrontation, and I was afraid to hear the cross words of someone who knew me better than anyone else. It worked for both of us.

As I pull into the driveway, I battle with myself. Is it better to pretend like we always have? Or do I face it head-on and force both of us to acknowledge the anger. I’d like to face it, but it might lead to questions I can’t answer.

Nineteen: Geny

I hear the crunching gravel outside and my whole body tenses up. My annoyance wrestles with my guilt and my gratitude, and I can’t decide where to land. It’s always been this way with Grace. With nearly everyone I know, if I’m being honest. I can’t quite push away the resentful feeling of being let down by everyone in my life and then feeling guilty that I feel that way.

Grace flies through the door like she’s trying to win a race. I spin in my seat on the couch and face her.

“Hey,” she says, a little breathless.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry I’m late. Do you want to go now?”

“It’s probably getting too late. We can go another time. It’s no big deal.” I honestly try to keep any bitterness out of my voice.

Grace looks behind her through the screen door. “No way. It’s not too late. Come on.”

She smiles hopefully and I can’t tell her no. Not when just thirty hours ago I thought I’d never see my sister with smile lines, and now here she is, in my doorway asking to go on a walk with me.

“It’ll be like old times,” she says, and I stand up.

Like old times. Walks were Grace’s way to reconnect when she’d gotten too busy with her life for too long. She’d sense a distance between us and ask to go for a walk. My sister, who doesn’t do leisure. Who would rather run than walk through the sandy beach trails. She slowed down for me. It was one of the rare times she listened more than she talked.

My chest aches for all the walks with her I could have used over the years. She clocks my sadness and reaches for my hand, her face pinched with concern.

“I’m okay,” I say.

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

Her words take me aback. They’re deeper and more compassionate than I’m used to from her. But then, I’m not used to anything from her now. My sister as an adult isn’t quite who she was as a teen, and I have to get to know her all over again. The thought is strange. She had never been someone I needed to get to know at all. We had always just known each other.

I slip my shoes on and grab my coat from the hook behind the door.

“All right. Let’s do this,” I say.

The sky is gray and the smell of rain hangs over us. It should hold off until later in the evening. We stroll down to the road and, without planning it, we head in the direction of the same beach trails we’d walk when we were young. I love the smell of fall, though I hate the season itself. The trees have mostly changed, and I wonder how I missed the shift. It feels like just yesterday that everything was lush green without a trace of yellow, orange, or red.

“I love this weather,” Grace says.

I laugh. “I know you do.”

She chuckles. “You hate it. You’re so weird.”

“I’m not weird. You and all you fall freaks are weird. You’re literally oohing and aahing over death and decay.”

“Death can be beautiful. You’re the poetic one. I’d think you’d be the one to see the beauty in it.”

I shake my head. “There’s nothing beautiful about death.”

My eyes sting and I blink back the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You’ve had to deal with so much death, and I’ve been gone for it all. It makes sense that you don’t see it that way.”

I glance over at her. “You’re a lot more insightful than you used to be.”

She snorts. “Thanks.” She rolls her eyes, taking it as an insult.