THE NURSE FROZE AT HER DESK WHEN SHE READ MY MOTHER’S MAIDEN NAME.
My heart hammered, watching her face drain of color as she stared at the intake form.
She gripped the pen so tightly her knuckles went white. The fluorescent lights hummed, a high-pitched whine that clawed at my ears in the sudden, heavy silence. “Are you absolutely *certain* this is correct?” she whispered, eyes darting from the form to my face, searching for a lie.
A sharp, guttural cough tore through the quiet from an examination room down the hall. It made me flinch. I just stood there, confused, a cold knot forming in my stomach. “Yes, that’s my mother’s maiden name,” I insisted. “Is something seriously wrong? Is she okay?”
A faint, metallic scent, like old pennies, suddenly seemed to fill the air around us. She leaned forward across the counter, conspiratorially, her eyes wide with something I couldn’t quite name. “Because,” she whispered, her gaze locked on mine, “your mother… she had a sister. A twin. And she’s in Room 3.”
My breath hitched, ragged and shallow. A *twin*? My mother never, not once, ever mentioned having a twin. It felt like the floor just dropped out from under me. Just then, the door to Room 3, further down the corridor, creaked open with a slow groan, and a figure, a silhouette, slowly emerged.
Her eyes met mine across the waiting room, and her face was identical to my mother’s.
👇 Full story continued in the comments…My legs felt like lead, rooted to the spot. The woman in the doorway moved into the light, and the resemblance was uncanny. The same delicate curve of the nose, the identical shape of the eyes. But there was something else, something deeper, etched into the lines around her mouth – a weariness, a sadness I’d never seen in the photographs of my mother.
The nurse, who had been silently frozen, suddenly snapped out of her trance. She began to gather herself, trying to regain some professional composure. “Go see her,” she urged, her voice low. “She’s been asking for you. Said… said she finally knew you were coming.”
I walked towards Room 3, each step a struggle against the swirling disbelief. As I got closer, I could make out more details. Her hair was the same color as my mother’s, though now streaked with silver. She wore a faded floral robe, and her hands, clasped in front of her, trembled slightly.
I stopped just outside the door. “Hello?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
The woman’s gaze met mine. A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Come in, dear,” she rasped, her voice thin but familiar.
Inside, the room was small and sterile. The twin sat on a bed, propped up by pillows. She looked frail, but her eyes were bright, filled with a lifetime of untold stories. I didn’t move at first, not knowing how to address her. This was not the life my mother gave me.
“You look just like your mother,” she said, her voice a whisper. “She talked about you all the time, you know.”
My heart ached with the unspoken questions, the years of hidden truths. “My… my mother never said anything about you.”
She sighed, a heavy sound. “It was a complicated life, darling. We were separated when we were young. A terrible accident. Your mother always believed she could find me.” Her gaze drifted towards a small window that looked out onto a desolate city view. “We were always meant to find our way back to each other again.”
We spoke for hours, the twin finally revealing everything. The secret she kept for so long. The accident that tore them apart and the journey that led them back to each other. Her health was deteriorating, a cancer she’d been fighting for some time. My mother had always suspected this, and because of this her sister wanted to see me.
“Your mother wanted me to tell you,” she said, her voice growing weaker. “That she loved you more than anything.”
Then, she reached for my hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “Promise me,” she whispered, her eyes locking with mine. “Promise me you’ll live a life worthy of both of us. You have all our best qualities in you.”
I squeezed her hand back, tears streaming down my face. “I promise,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.
She smiled again, a peaceful smile this time. Her eyes closed, and her hand went limp in mine.
In the ensuing days, I helped with the arrangements, and dealt with the grief. The nurse, who had become a friend in the short time we were together, helped me, but also kept me from telling anyone else. It was my secret.
That night, after everything was settled, I went to the hospital to say goodbye to my aunt one last time. When I walked out into the night, everything in my life had changed. And in my heart, I knew that I had not only lost a family member, but also a part of myself. But in my mind I knew one thing, my family was now complete, and my mother wouldn’t have it any other way.