Page 21 of The Widow's Husband's Secret Lie
But the next words out of his mouth change everything.
“I’m Brant. Grant’s identical twin.”
22
“What?”I say. “You’rewhat?”
The man who looks exactly like my husband, who claims his name is Brant, still has his hands in the air. I lower the shovel, and he drops his hands.
“You’re Grant’s identical twin?” I say with undisguised skepticism.
“That’s right.”
“But that makes no sense.” I punctuate my statement by digging the spade of the shovel into the grass. “Grant was an only child.”
“He lied to you. He wasn’t an only child. He had a brother—me.”
“Still,” I say. “It just seems so ridiculously unlikely. I mean, identical twins are really rare. And honestly, this all just seems like a cheap and overly convenient explanation for me seeing my dead husband everywhere. It sort of makes me want to roll my eyes.”
“Well,sorry,” Brant says. “What explanation would you prefer? That Grant came back from the dead? Or maybe you’re imagining the whole thing? How about if you’re actually in apsychiatric hospital, and this entire marriage was completely in your head? Would that be better?”
“No, that’s much worse.”
“Exactly.” He reaches into the back pocket of his blue jeans and pulls out a worn leather wallet. He fumbles around inside the wallet and finally pulls out an old, creased photo. “This was me and Grant as kids.”
I take the photograph from his hands. It’s a picture of two identical towheaded boys of about five years old, wearing shorts and T-shirts, who bear a striking resemblance to both each other and the man standing before me. It looks like it’s been in his wallet for a very long time.
“This could have been faked,” I say.
He plucks the photo from my hand and gingerly places it within the folds of his wallet. “So you say. But look at me, Alice. Do you really need a photograph to prove to you that I am identical to your late husband?”
Admittedly, this man does look very much like Grant. There is only one noticeable difference.
Brant notices where I’m looking and touches the side of his face, just a bit in front of his right ear, which is marked by a tiny mole about two millimeters in diameter. “It’s the only difference between the two of us.”
As I stare at Brant, the puzzle pieces start to fall into place. I didn’t understand how Grant could have been home for dinner with me almost every night yet also had an entirely different family whose house was filled with photographs of him as a loving father. But now it suddenly makes sense.
“Marnie isyourwife,” I whisper.
“Yes,” he says.
“But I don’t understand. Why did you tell her your name is Grant?”
He clenches his teeth. “You don’t understand what it was like for me growing up. Grant was always the better twin. He was always the one who everyone loved, who got the better grades in school, and then he landed an amazing job where he made a ton of money. He even has the better name between the two of us. I mean—Brant? That’s the name of the snooty rich kid in some teen movie.”
I can’t disagree with his last point.
“Anyway,” he continues, “when I met Marnie, I thought she was the most amazing person ever. All I wanted was for her to like me. And that’s why, when she asked me what my name was, I told her it was Grant. I figured eventually I would tell her the truth.” He frowns. “I suppose I let it go on a little too long.”
“You think?”
He drops his head. “I have made some mistakes in my life. I won’t deny that.”
“I don’t understand, though. Why does Marnie thinkyou’redead?”
He lets out a long tortuous sigh. “I loved Marnie—I really did. But things have changed over the years. We aren’t right for each other anymore, but she can’t seem to accept it, because we have so, so,somany children together. That’s why, when I heard about my brother’s fatal accident, I realized this was a chance for me to finally escape my terrible marriage.”
I flash back to the living room of Marnie and Brant’s home. I remember looking at the photographs on the walls. The two of them seemed so happy together. But I know from experience that the smiles in photographs can be an illusion.
