When Rafe and Leo were born, I was so happy. But Leo got sick. And then he died,” Mom went on.
“It’s still really, really hard for me to talk about. I didn’t want to leave the house—ever. I didn’t want Rafe to leave the house. I wouldn’t let him play with anything hard, or touch anything that had been on the floor, or even sit on the couch, because he might fall off. I was going crazy, and I was making us both miserable. And that was when I realized that I needed more to think about, not less. I needed another outlet. I had all this extra love to give, and you needed someone to love you. So I adopted you.”
Mom stopped. She stared at me like she was trying to read my mind. I could tell she really wanted me to understand….
But I wasn’t sure that I did understand.
“You adopted me to replace Leo?”
“No,” Mom said, but her strange, shaky voice made it sound like “maybe” to me.
Rafe and Leo were twins. I could never take Leo’s place. No wonder I always felt like I had to be perfect—like I wasn’t quite how I was supposed to be. I wasn’t.
Because I wasn’t Leo. And I never could be.