Page 5 of Twisted Fate

Why did he look at me that way?

Several sets of eyes watched me with varying expressions. That was when it hit me. I looked just like her. For a moment, Vance had seen his dead wife’s face staring back at him. All these people who loved my cousin saw her when they looked at me. I looked more like her than her own sister, who took after their father. But Sarah and I were nearly carbon copies of our mothers who were twins. It was no wonder they all stared at me like they were seeing a ghost.

Unsettled, I made my excuses and ducked away to the restroom. I hadn’t considered what seeing me would do to everyone. My presence here seemed to make them uncomfortable. It was like driving a stake into their already broken hearts. Perhaps it was best for me to leave.

I splashed some cool water on my face and neck before pulling out my phone. I shot my mom a quick text to let her know I needed some air and would be waiting for her outside.

3

Vance

I couldn’t breathe.The room had grown stuffy, and my suit jacket was stifling. “I’ll be right back,” I said to no one in particular and stood from my chair. I needed a moment to catch my breath. Seeing my wife’s cousin—who was nearly identical to her—was a shock. I hadn’t expected her to show today. She hadn’t accepted any of our invitations to visit since Charlie was a baby, so I hadn’t thought she’d bother to come.

I was wrong. So very wrong.

My eyes drifted over the room. I didn’t know what I was searching for, but it felt like I needed to find something. They landed on the empty chair next to Darla’s sister as I passed rows of chairs facing my wife’s casket.

Sarah was really gone. And it was all my fault.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. They were too loud. The room was too loud. I had to get out of here before I ended up curled into the fetal position with my arms wrapped around my head, rocking in a corner somewhere.

Cool air whipped across my face when I finally broke free of the room. The front door slowly shut as though someone had just walked out of it. Maybe I should do the same. Just leave and pretend like I wasn’t about to bury my wife in the cold, hard ground.

I couldn’t do that. My daughter needed me. I needed her. I wasn’t sure how we would get through this, but no matter what, we’d do it together.

The urge to see Delilah, to gaze upon the face that was so much like my beloved’s, was overwhelming. I scrubbed my hands through my hair, frustrated with myself for being so weak. Before I could berate myself anymore, a door to my left swung open, and Delilah stepped out. I froze as she smoothed her hands down her hair. Red rimmed her typically vibrant eyes. They looked dull and lifeless now, just like I felt.

She halted in her tracks when she saw me, her eyes widening in surprise. We stared at each other, our feet planted in place. I swallowed hard, my throat bobbing as I took her in. She looked even more like Sarah than I remembered. Their hair was the exact same shade, although Delilah’s was a bit longer. The chocolate brown eyes I loved to get lost in were now a cool blue staring sorrowfully back at me. Up close, I could see there were other slight differences. Sarah’s nose was more upturned, and Delilah’s lips were fuller. Nobody else would probably notice, but I knew every square inch of Sarah’s face. The face I’d never see again.

“Vance,” Delilah whispered, and my stomach clenched. Even their voices sounded alike. “I’m so very sorry.” Her words were punctuated with stuttering breaths as she fought back tears. Before I could respond, she crossed the short distance between us and threw her arms around me. My eyes fell closed as I wrapped my arms around her. I let her hold me and pretended she was someone else. Drawing in a deep breath, that fantasy was shattered. She didn’t smell like Sarah. The sweet scent of warm vanilla was replaced by crisp citron and an ocean breeze.

The embrace suddenly felt wrong. I pulled away and stepped out of her reach. “Thank you so much for coming,” I offered with a nod and made to walk past her, holding my breath. I hated that her scent was all wrong. I hated it even more that I didn’t hate the fragrance that lingered on my suit jacket long after she was gone.

4

Delilah

It had been nearlythree months since the funeral, and I couldn’t get Charlie off my mind. I thought about her every day and wished there was something I could do to help. I heard through the grapevine that she wasn’t doing very well at her new daycare. She was used to being home with either her mom or Vivian. Sarah did freelance graphic design part time, so Vance’s mom watched Charlie two days a week while she worked. Now that Sarah was gone, Vivian still watched her as much as she could, but she owned a flower shop in town that required her attention most days. The other grandparents worked full-time, and there was no other family available to babysit, so Vance had no other choice but to put Charlie in daycare now that he was back to work. She wasn’t adjusting well to her new routine, and my aunt was understandably concerned.

Vance was certainly struggling in his own way. He was trying to do everything all on his own. His partner was gone. Did he have anyone to lean on?

“Hey, you up for pizza? Mom said we could order whatever we want,” my little brother, Deacon proclaimed, holding up my mom’s credit card and waving it around. He’d busted into my room unannounced and uninvited as usual.

I hated that I still lived at home, but I hadn’t saved up enough money to move out yet. Jobs were few and far between, and all I’d managed to land this school year were temporary sub positions. I had some interviews lined up for positions that started in the fall, but they weren’t as close to home. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, I guessed.

I’d expected to be further in my career at this point, but after giving birth and finalizing the adoption, I spiraled into a deep, dark depression. The circumstances surrounding Charlie’s conception left me nearly paralyzed with fear and anxiety. I didn’t sleep well and shied away from being touched, even by those I loved and trusted. With nothing to focus my attention on any longer—like ensuring a healthy pregnancy—I let the aftermath consume me. I had night terrors where I awoke soaked in sweat, thinking I was back in that frat house bedroom. My panic attacks grew more frequent and debilitating until it got so bad I barely left the house.

It took me a while to crawl my way out of that bottomless pit of despair, but I did it. With the help of my mom and the right therapist, I managed to get back to a place where I could finally see the light and got my life back on track.

“Anchovies, mushrooms, and pineapple,” I replied just to watch him grimace. I could joke again. I could smile and laugh in a way I hadn’t been able to a few years ago, and it felt good.

“Ew. One of these days I’m actually going to order that for you, and you’re going to have to eat it.”

I chuckled. “The usual, then.” We ordered the same thing every time, so I didn’t know why he bothered asking. Sometimes, I wondered if he merely did it to check in on me. He was a teenager and by all accounts should be just as self-absorbed as I was at that age, but he was more intuitive than I had been. He remembered the dark days when I couldn’t make myself crawl out of bed, and that left a mark on him.

After dinner, I sank down on the couch next to my mom and rested my head on her shoulder as we watched our favorite show. It was rare for us to have these moments together due to her hectic work schedule, and I’d missed out on it for so long while I struggled to find myself again, so I soaked it up every chance I got.

Mom’s phone rang from the coffee table, and I shifted so she could lean up and grab it. She answered it, greeting my aunt by name.

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