Mother’s Letter
My hands began violently shaking.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I tore the envelope open and pulled out the crisp, aged paper.
“Dear Mary,
If you’re reading this, it means our family’s greatest lie has finally been exposed.
I always prayed this day would never come.
I never wanted you to carry this heavy burden.
First, I need you to know that absolutely none of this was your fault.
You were just a child, an innocent little girl.
You were born in 1963.
But Linda and Susan were not born in the years listed on their official documents.
They are twins.
Born on exactly the same day.
And you, Mary, are their biological mother.”
I completely stopped reading.
The air vanished from my lungs.
I felt dizzy, gripping the edge of the metal footlocker to keep from collapsing onto the concrete floor.
It was impossible.
How could I have possibly given birth to twins when I was only two years old?
I forced my blurry eyes back down to the page.
“1963 is not your real birth year either, Mary.
When we brought you into our home, you were already fourteen years old.
You had suffered a severe, unspeakable psychological trauma.
Your mind had completely blocked out what happened to you.
The doctors called it dissociative amnesia.
You were made to believe you were much, much younger to protect you, and over the years, your father and I systematically changed all the documents.
We bribed a local official.
We moved across the country.
We erased your past so you could have a future.”
I laughed out loud in the empty storage unit.
A hysterical, terrifying, broken laugh.
This was absolute madness.
I clearly remembered my childhood.
I remembered my elementary school.
I remembered my seventh birthday party with the paper hats and the clown.
But then, a cold, sickening realization washed over me like a bucket of ice water.
I actually had almost no distinct, concrete memories from before the supposed age of seven.
My memories were fragmented, hazy, like scenes from a movie I hadn’t really watched.
And in all of our old childhood family photographs… there had always been something incredibly odd.
May you like
I looked noticeably, drastically older and taller than my “little sisters.”
I had chalked it up to an early growth spurt.
