She nodded.
“Two mothers.”
“One lie.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Different lies.”
“Same child.”
That felt more accurate.
The strangest part of all is that the boys themselves now treat the story with more normality than we do.
To Noah:
“I found out my twin existed when I was eight.”
To Lucas:
“I found out I had another mom and a twin brother.”
Not simple.
But theirs.
Last month, Cedarbrook Elementary held a family-history project.
I panicked when Noah told me.
“What exactly are they asking you to present?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“You’re doing the worried thing.”
“I’m allowed.”
“No.”
Lucas laughed.
They decided to do the project together.
Their poster had two houses.
Rachel’s.
Mine.
Photos of both boys.
A photograph of them as newborns was impossible because I had none of Lucas.
So they left that space blank.
Underneath, Lucas wrote:
