I take a deep breath and feel the anguish of that moment as if it was yesterday. I was so shocked, so sad not to be the real flesh and blood daughter of my parents, it took me a long time to get my head round it. And now it’s stopping me from making any progress with this memoir.
I start to type.
I had always been a happy, confident child, but in that moment, I suddenly questioned everything about myself. I didn’t know who I was or where I came from. Who did I look like? Who was my real family and why didn’t they want me?
As I re-read what I’ve just written, my eyes linger on the words “my real family”, and a thought filters in through the noise in my mind.
It’s a mad idea, which I almost dismiss right away.
But I can’t help exploring it.
I don’t know anything about my biological relatives. I don’t know my birth mother and I don’t know if I have any brothers or sisters. For all I know, I could have a twin out there.
Is that crazy?
It’s no crazier than walking around outside without trousers on.
CHAPTER4
THE SISTER
Hello, Sister.
I cannot wait to meet you. I hope it will be soon. After all these years, I’m tired of waiting.
Even though we’ve never met, I know everything about you, Faye.
I know where you live, where you went to university, who you married – and divorced – and what music you listen to. I know where your daughter works, the name of your stepson’s wife and child and your bleak outlook for the future.
I have known about you for almost all of my life, but you cannot say the same about me.
We have had very different lives, you and me.
Yours has been charmed. I hope you know that. You had loving parents. I did not. And the less said about that, the better.
Don’t get me wrong, I have had good times. But as soon as I found out about you, I had to know more, and you could say it has become a bit of an obsession of mine. Which is why I asked him to watch you.
My man would do anything for me. Could you say the same about yours? No, I don’t think so, otherwise he wouldn’t have cheated on you with his assistant. And he certainly wouldn’t have got her pregnant.
I’m sorry, that’s a low blow on a sore subject and I do not mean to be rude. You are my sister, after all. By blood, if nothing else.
We will meet soon. That’s the point of all this. To finally see you and talk to you and be in the same room as you. After all, we are sisters. And, as your sister, I want to say that I’m sorry for the time we’ve lost. But mostly I’m sorry for what is about to happen. Because it’s not going to end well for you.
CHAPTER5
FAYE
For as long as I could remember, I’d been disappointed that the face I saw in the mirror didn’t resemble my mother. She was beautiful with her raven hair and deep brown eyes but I didn’t see any of those qualities in my reflection. When I found out I was adopted, it all made sense.
I loved my parents. They were good people who were extraordinary in their ordinariness, with Mum teaching primary school and Dad working at the local bank. When I found out they weren’t my biological parents, I was devastated. But even more upsetting was wondering why my birth mother gave me up. Not knowing makes you question yourself. Why me? Why didn’t she – or they, if my father was in the picture – love me enough to raise me? Deep down, I know it was most likely due to circumstances, that my birth mother felt she was doing the right thing giving me up. But without knowing the truth, the reality is like constantly walking across a trampoline, the ground beneath my feet quivering and unstable.
I’ve always wondered how it is possible to miss something you never had. I never knew my birth mother and yet I always felt the pang of not knowing her.
The years went by and every now and then I considered trying to find her, and answering the many questions I had about who I was and where I came from. But I never did. Perhaps the fear of rejection stopped me going through with it.
Over the years I have thought about whether I have brothers and sisters. It’s one of the most compelling arguments for me to investigate my roots. My birth mother may have given me away, but with potential siblings it would be a clean slate, free from emotional baggage.
But a twin? Surely not. And anyway, don’t adoption agencies try to keep twins together?
