Page 130 of Mommy

Uncapping the bottle I swallow my smile at the nickname.

You’re still just pretending.

I remind myself of that, while also trying to soak in the feelings.

“Did you sleep okay?”

Swallowing my last sip, I set the bottle aside.

“I did.” I say, smiling. “I had a bit of a weird dream, but… other than that I feel great.”

Not looking at me, Derek picks up a fork and knife and starts cutting the pancakes into bite sized pieces.

“You want to tell me about it?”

I think about that for a moment.

“Yeah.”

There’s no need for me to not share this with him. Even if we are just pretending, I can still use our game to feel a little less alone with my nightmares. I can still tell Derek about it, and even if he won’t actually listen because he cares, he’ll listen.

“I told you about how I was supposed to have a twin sister, right?” I’m not sure he remembers, so I just go on without waiting for him to answer. I don’t even check if he’s nodding or shaking his head. “In my dream she didn’t die. She was just like me, but also not at all like me. I can’t really describe it, but it was like I was her shadow and she was mine. Somehow identical and yet nothing alike.”

A piece of chocolate chip pancake appears on a fork in front of my mouth and I wrap my lips around it.

Delicious.

“Do you miss her?”

A sad laugh breaks out of me.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I miss her as a person, because.. I never really knew her. But sometimes I think I would’ve liked to have her a lot, so…. sometimes it feels like…”

My brain won’t finish the sentence, but to my surprise Derek does it for me.

“Like a lost opportunity?”

I nod, grateful for his words.

How does he know these things?

“You know, I grew up without a mother, and though I can’t really remember her much, I still always felt like it would’ve been so cool to have one.”

There is a bit of defiance in Derek’s voice, making him sound like he doesn’t really want to say the words.

“That must have been difficult.” I say quietly, hoping that he’s not uncomfortable.

“I think maybe it’s a little like how you feel with your sister.” Derek says, cutting another piece of pancake and holding it out for me. This time it’s the apple one and I think I might like this one even more than the chocolate chip pancake.

Chewing, I nod.

“I guess so. You know, my mom always got my name wrong and it made me feel like I was never the right twin to make it out alive. I know that probably sounds ridiculous, but… I always felt like I wasn’t the one she was hoping for.”

I’ve never told anyone about this. Not even the dogs. I wasn’t even brave enough to murmur the words into Viv’s fur when she was still at the shelter. But somehow now, in bed with Derek with a long, excruciating Sunday ahead it’s not as embarrassing to share my thoughts.

“I always felt like it was my fault that my mom left.” Derek says, and I’m glad he’s not trying to get more out of me by asking questions. With both of us sharing our thoughts it feels less like a secret. Or rather, it doesn’t feel like I should stop. I could, because he isn’t pushing for anything. But with him telling me about his mom? I feel like there is a space for my emotions, even if they are big and weird.

Most people I know have a pretty decent life I think. Rosemary for example? She has her parents and as far as I know they have a thriving relationship. I can’t imagine telling her about the fuck up that is the mother-daughter-bond I have going on at home. I’d feel like an alien.