Chapter Twelve Mary
Chapter Twelve
Mary
Five years ago
When she spun the chair around to face the mirror, I was struck speechless. I watched, fascinated, as the stranger—the woman who looked like me, but not really—reached up to press a lock of her hair between her fingers. It felt soft and silky, the new cut fringing my face perfectly.
“You look amazing!” my stylist told me. “Why didn’t we do this sooner? The shorter hair suits that pretty heart-shaped face of yours perfectly!”
She was right: it did. Of course, I’d known that long before I walked through the doors of the salon. I only had to conjure an image of Sam to know exactly how the cut would look on me.
We were less than a month out from our excursion to Oregon.
I just had to try and keep the uneasy peace that had settled in our house until then, hoping that a little distance might just give my parents a better impression of Sam and our burgeoning friendship.
They’d come around once they realized how close we’d become and how she made me push my limits—doing things outside of my comfort zone.
The haircut was totally my idea, and I planned to follow it up with a tattoo that matched Sam’s.
I’d been thinking about how fun it would have been to have an identical twin when I was a kid—fooling teachers, taking tests for each other, covering for each other .
. . We had missed out on the whole The Parent Trap experience!
But that didn’t mean we still couldn’t have a little fun with it.
My intention had been to spring it on my sister first, then the two of us could surprise my parents together. But my mom intercepted me the second I walked through the front door.
“Sam? I wonder if you and I might have a chat?”
She didn’t give me so much as a second glance. I couldn’t believe it. My own mother couldn’t tell us apart!
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, imitating my sister’s flatter, cooler affect.
Following her out onto the back patio, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from cracking up and giving it away. I wanted to see just how far I could go—just how long before she caught on and we had a good laugh over it.
“Come, sit with me,” she said, leading us to the sofa under the large gazebo across from the pool. “Look, Samantha—Sam,” my mom began once we were settled, “we understand you’ve done without your entire life. And you know what? That doesn’t have to be the case anymore.”
I felt my heartbeat pick up a little. Finally! They were finally coming around. The wave of relief was so strong that it was practically euphoric.
“Oh yeah? Great,” I said, pairing my best Sam-centric tone with her signature nonchalant shrug. “What were you thinking?”
My mind was whirring with the possibilities . . . Maybe they’d ask her to move in here permanently. Maybe they’d offer to get the two of us a condo on campus. Maybe they’d—
My thoughts came to an abrupt and screeching halt when she pulled something out of her pocket and held it out for me to take.
“What is that?” I asked, staring down at the folded check.
“Consider it seed money. Just a little something to get you set up—wherever you want to go. It’s enough for a car and moving expenses, for several months’ rent, incidentals . . . If you spend it wisely, you’ll be set for some time, Samantha.”
My hands had a slight tremor as I took the paper from her and opened it.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
“And there’s more,” my mother continued as I scrambled to process what was happening at that moment.
“Once you give us a bank account number, there will be a . . . let’s say .
. . stipend . . . deposited on the first of each month for an additional five thousand dollars.
” She sat back and considered me—or Sam, as it were.
Because Theresa Langston had never once looked at me with the kind of cool detachment she was looking at me with at that moment.
Now that she thought I was someone else.
I jumped a little, startled when she put a hand on my knee.
“Sam, it’s enough to keep you comfortable the rest of your life.
You don’t even have to work if you don’t want to.
Or maybe you’ll start that company—that tour company you talk about.
You could go to another country, even! South America, Europe .
. . We could certainly help you get what you need to make an international move if that’s what you wanted. Really, the possibilities are endless.”
I tried to swallow past the hard lump that had formed in my throat, but my voice still came out sounding strained. “Is that . . . ?” I began, closed my eyes for a second and tried again. “What’s the catch?”
My mother’s mouth tightened slightly at the corners.
She never did like dealing with the nitty-gritty details of business.
That was for my father, for the attorneys, for other people to hash out.
But I imagined her and my father deciding that this particular pitch would be best coming from a woman. From her.
“You have to cut off all communication with Mary.”
Bitter bile filled my mouth, and I had to swallow quickly.
“She’s my sister,” I said when I was sure I could speak without gagging and retching right there on the six-figure Persian rug. “And we’ve only just found each other—”
“But is she?” Mom asked more sharply than I expected. “Is she really your sister, Samantha?”
“Well, yeah . . . obviously . . .”
She shook her head. “This is what I keep telling Mary—simply sharing DNA, simply looking like someone, does not automatically bond you together for life. Come now, Sam,” she said conspiratorially, softening her tone and volume.
“We both know you’re not looking for a ready-made family.
You’ve been on your own for so long! You’re independent—doing what you want to do when you want to do it, with no one to answer to. ”
“And . . . uh . . . what would you tell Mary? About me just . . . disappearing?”
My mother scoffed and waved a hand. “Pfft. We’ll find a suitable story.”
It was as if someone flipped a switch in me. Sitting there, knowing I looked exactly like Sam, somehow emboldened me to tamp down the “good girl” in me and channel my grittier, savvier counterpart.
“You don’t think she’ll be upset? That this might hurt her after we’ve gotten so close?”
Her smile was all ice. “Trust me, Sam, she’ll get over it.”
Did she really think that? Was it possible my mother believed me to be so shallow and vacuous that I could somehow be manipulated into forgetting I had a twin?
“Yeah? I’m not so sure about that.”
“I am.”
“And . . . if I say no?” I ventured, curious to see what the answer would be.
Her expression hadn’t moved a millimeter.
If anything, the chilly smile broadened, as if she were delighted to hear the question.
“Oh, Sam,” she said in a lowered, markedly darker voice, “you do not want to test me. This family has limitless resources, and I promise you I will use every single one of them to make your life more difficult than you ever imagined possible.”
“Yeah, that’d be some trick. I’d like to see you try.”
My mother and I both turned at the sound of my sister’s voice behind us. Neither of us had noticed her leaning there against one of the gazebo poles.
“Love the haircut, Mary,” she said, with an approving smile. Then she looked to my mom, whose mouth hung open, her eyes huge as they moved from her to me and back again. And again. And again. “What do you think, Terry? Damn near impossible to tell us apart now, right?”
“M-Mary?” Mom whispered at me.
I stood up and walked over to Sam. “My parents want to give you a couple hundred thousand dollars to go away. You interested?” I asked her loud enough for my mother to hear.
Sam threw her head back and laughed. “Seriously? That’s what she was telling you?”
I pulled the folded check from my pocket and held it up for her to look at.
“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my name attached to a number with so many zeroes behind it!
” she marveled, amused. She looked around me to my mom.
“Tempting, Terry, but I don’t need your bribe.
I’d rather have my sister. Come on,” she said to me.
“Let’s get packing. I think maybe we should leave sooner rather than later. ”
I sighed sadly, shaking my head as my mother looked on, incredulous and struck silent.
“You know what, Mom, I never would have believed it if I hadn’t heard it myself.
If I hadn’t seen your expression with my own two eyes.
My God, but you’re a convincing liar! Makes me wonder what else you’ve said over the years that was total and complete bullshit.
” I savored the curse as I said it, another layer of insult to hurl out in the wake of the pain I was feeling.
“Mary—” she tried, but I cut her off abruptly.
“No. I’m done,” I spat at her with more venom than I’d known I had in me. “You don’t get a say in my life. Not ever again.”
“You don’t mean that—”
“I do!” I assured her loudly.
“Mary, baby, please don’t go. Not like this . . .”
My mouth twisted into the same smile she’d given me not five minutes earlier. And when I spoke, it was a perfect imitation of her voice, her tone.
“Trust me, Mom, you’ll get over it.”