Chapter 5

Chapter 5

At five years old, I start to realize I’m not like my twin sister. We look  exactly  the same. The same light brown hair, straight and smooth down our backs, the same almond-shaped eyes with soft amber pupils, the same smile, the same single dimple on one cheek, even the same height. Looking at Elena is like looking in a mirror. So I don’t understand why our parents treat us so differently. 

Mom  adores  Elena. She has pictures of her everywhere, on the fridge, on the bedside table in her room. When I ask why there aren’t any of me, she just shrugs and says, “ But you look exactly the same. How do you know that isn’t you? ” 

It’s supposed to be funny. A joke. But I’m five, not stupid. I  know  my smiles are never that wide, my stance never that light, never that carefree. “ I’m not in any of the pictures, ” I tell her, because I don’t know yet that my opinions don’t matter. 

Mom sighs, like I’m saying something ridiculous. “ Of course you are, Esmeray. What are you talking about? This is you, isn’t it? ” She holds up a photo. Elena at Disneyland, grinning, a balloon clasped in her hand. 

I wasn’t even  there  that day. 

I was sick. Mom said I was ruining the trip for Elena, so I told them to go without me, I’d be fine. Mom said the babysitter would come soon. Then she left. 

But no one came. 

When I got so thirsty my legs felt like noodles and I couldn’t make it downstairs? No one came. 

When I cried because I was alone and scared? Mom told me I was being  dramatic, that Elena  never  acted like that. 

“It’s not me,” I say, clutching Mr. Rooney tight to my chest, my squirrel plushie with one ear that flops lower than the other. 

Mom doesn’t even blink. “Are you sure?” 

“I always hold Mr. Rooney,” I say with a firm nod. “Everywhere.” 

She just laughs. “Oh, but we can just Photoshop Mr. Rooney in there, and then it would be you, right?” She beams, proud of her solution. 

I want to say no. I want to tell her that Mr. Rooney isn’t the point. That even if they pasted ten Mr. Rooneys all over that photo, it still wouldn’t be me. 

But I don’t have the heart to argue. So I just nod. 

Years pass, and then I turn ten. 

Dad, who has never said a harsh word to me, who I always felt  saw  me, buys a present for  Elena . Not for me. 

It’s Elena’s birthday, which means it’s my birthday too. But when Mom and Elena are planning it, I hear them say things like, “ I can’t believe you’re turning ten this week! ” 

“ Oh, you won’t believe the surprise I have for you, my little baby Elena! ” 

I sit right there at the dining table, listening, but no one notices. No one says how happy they are that  I’m  turning ten. No one asks me what I want for my birthday. 

Elena gasps, eyes shining. “I want a  doll !” She talks so fast she might as well need subtitles. “ The one I saw on the shelf at Target, the one you said you’d get me! It has long blonde hair,  really  long legs, and it’s dressed like a  superhero ! It’s the coolest doll ever! ” 

I open my mouth, ready to suggest my own birthday gift. I want a small sports car, the kind that makes sounds and has blinking lights. But before I can get the words out, Elena is already taking a breath. 

“ And it would be  absolutely  great if you got me the dress-up set too! ” She bats her long lashes, voice dripping with sugar. 

Mom laughs, delighted. “ Look how pretty she begs, honey. ” 

Dad chuckles, shaking his head. “ She’s gonna have one lucky guy wrapped around her finger one day. ” 

“ You bet! ” Elena declares, flicking her fingers and rolling her head with practiced sass. Our parents laugh again, calling her  adorable, a word they  never  seem to get tired of when it comes to Elena. 

I inhale sharply, raising my voice louder than usual, trying to be heard over the noise. “ It would be nice, ” I start, “ if I got a gift too. ” 

Their heads turn. Their eyes land on me. 

And suddenly, my voice shrinks to almost nothing. 

“ What’s that, sweetheart? ” Dad asks. 

But before I can summon the courage to repeat myself, Mom cuts in. 

“ Baby girl, do you know the size of cake I ordered for you? ” 

Elena gasps. “ Does it have Barbie and Ken on top, like I wanted? ” 

“ You  know  it does! ” 

Elena squeals, bouncing with excitement. Mom beams. Dad smiles the kind of smile that says he’s proud, the kind of smile that never seems to falter when it comes to  her . 

I sit back. 

And I give up. 

I still hold onto hope. I mean, how do you forget your daughter is a twin? How do you forget she has the same birthday? 

Ten-year-old me doesn’t bring it up, not out loud, because no one listens, and no one cares. But deep down, I keep thinking someone will remember. Someone has to. 

The day comes. Elena’s opening presents, all eyes on her. Everyone’s smiling, clapping, telling her how grown up she looks now that she’s ten. I’m just standing there, quiet, lost in the crowd like some kid invited to someone else’s party. 

I keep waiting for someone, anyone, to say something. To ask why only Elena’s wearing a crown. Why only Elena’s tearing into wrapping paper like she owns the day. 

A couple of the gifts have my name on them, but no one’s watching to see my reaction. Not when Elena’s squealing and making clever little comments after every gift she opens. She’s got a mountain of presents, way more than me, and when I ask about it, someone says, “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you’d share with Elena. Isn’t it the same thing?” 

No. It’s not the same thing. Because those gifts are hers. I’d just be borrowing them. 

But I nod. Small. Quiet. I drop my eyes and pretend like I’m okay. 

The day ends. Guests leave. The noise fades. I go looking for what my mom and dad got me. 

“Elena, where’s my gift?” I ask, watching her stare at the TV. 

“They’re in there,” she mumbles, eyes glued to the screen. 

I glance toward where the gift pile used to be, but Mom already packed everything into Elena’s room. 

“I don’t think it’s there,” I say, voice shaky, the edge of a cry caught in my throat. 

“It is, Ray, I saw it.” 

“Where?” 

She finally looks at me, then toward the corner where the boxes were. They’re gone. Her lips twist like she’s thinking. “Maybe it’s in your room?” 

“It’s not.” 

“Maybe Mom packed it with mine,” she says with this soft, hopeful smile like she wants me to feel better. 

I don’t smile back. “They didn’t get me any gifts,” I say, softly but firm 

Elena doesn’t believe me. She dives into her pile of presents, digging through the boxes and ribbons, expecting to find something from Mom and Dad meant for me. But there’s nothing. Meanwhile, Mom had gifted her an expensive set of brushes for her hair, along with a heartfelt note, poetic, warm, gushing about how she was their  light in the darkness . 

I guess that makes me the  darkness . 

“Mom!” Elena pushes forward, striding across the floor with confidence, disappointment thick in her voice. I trail after her like the shadow I  always  am. “ Did you forget to get a gift for Esmeray? ” 

Mom literally looks  blank . 

She’s busy making the bed while Dad walks out of the bathroom, towel slung over his shoulder. They stare at us for a second before Dad says the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. 

“ Isn’t Esmeray’s birthday next week? ” 

Elena and I stare at him, completely dumbfounded. 

Elena exhales sharply, stepping closer. “ Dad, I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this, ” she starts, slow and deliberate, “ but your daughters are twins. ” 

Dad pauses. Then laughs. “ Of course I know that. ” 

Elena’s eyes narrow dangerously. 

A beat of silence, then realization crashes into him. “ Oh. Oh my God. Ray. ” His expression shifts, guilt sinking deep into his features. He kneels down in front of me, remorse clear in every inch of his posture. “ I’m the worst dad ever. I am so sorry, sweetheart. I got so caught up with Elena and your mom planning everything that it… slipped my mind. ” 

At this point, I feel so miserable, so utterly forgotten, that all I  can  do is cry. 

Mom softens. She calls me  sweetheart  for the first time. “ Sweetheart, you know Dad and I have a lot on our minds. We are so sorry. My little girl, that must have been so hard. " 

They hug me. Apologize. Let me eat a giant slice of cake with extra ice cream. 

And that was it. 

That was my  birthday  present. 

By morning, the order of things is restored. Elena is at the center. Again.