01

People that say they wish they had siblings clearly don’t know the terrible things that come with having one. Especially if they’re your identical twin – trust me, you don’t want one. Contrary to popular belief they are not cool and they are not your other half.

At least mine wasn’t.

And why do I feel this way, you ask ? Why do I sound so miserable about having a twin sister ?

Well, it all happened a month before my wedding. Everything was going perfect. I had an amazing fiancé and everything was going per plan. We just needed to practise a bit more with the wedding court party and walk down the aisle ; tie the knot.

I don’t know if it was because I ignored all the signs or if it was just because I was stupid, but it still happened and there was nothing that I could do to stop it. I wasn’t the type of person to stop it either.

I let my family step all over me and use me in any way they wanted. That’s why I had to leave and get away from that toxic household.

My parents always favoured Veronica over me and I was okay with that. I didn’t want to be their favourite ; I didn’t need to be. Yeah, at first I wanted their approval and to make them proud, but my parents are the cliché vultures that tear apart innocent, young girls.

I stayed home Friday nights and she would return Sunday afternoons, hungover and wasted ; but she was the good child because they were blind and loved her more.

After realising that nothing I did would please my parents, I decided to look out for me. I didn’t go to college, which according to them, was a relief because they wouldn’t need to waste their fortune on their ‘disappointment.’ I began taking pictures of anything – it was my escape and I became a well-known photographer.

Through my photographs and work, I met Marcos. My parents loved him. He was beautiful and intelligent and ambitious – everything that « I wasn’t. » I didn’t really care at that point what they thought, but I was happy with Marcos.

He was one of my first buyers when I had an opening at a galleria and was the first person to actually listened to anything I had to say. He didn’t force me to step out of my comfort zone and attend fancy dinners with snobby people like my parents.

He was my perfect guy. Our romance was quick, a whirlwind and beautiful – until a month before my wedding he walked into the dinner rehearsal, hand-in-hand with my twin sister and broke things off with me.

According to him, they were more compatible. Veronica was ambitious and wanted to claw her way up the food-chain. I was happy just being a photographer and earning my money, instead of stealing it from unknowing people.

I really couldn’t understand how that was happening to me. Marcos and I were happy ! We fit great and were in love, yeah, we had only known each other for half a year, but when he proposed, I was sure that we were it.

It shouldn’t have been much of a surprise that he thought Veronica was perfect for him, only knowing her for less than two months.

In my eyes, it wasn’t fair. I had lived my life quietly and practical. I didn’t go out and drink and ruin marriages (Veronica had ruined three marriages in a span of two weeks.) I planned out my life and tried to work hard to achieve what I wanted.

So, why could my reckless sister be happier than I was ? How could everything be handed to her in a plate when she wasn’t the best human being in the world ! There must’ve been something wrong with me ! Clearly I was living my life all wrong and I needed to change it.

I wanted to break the candle holder on both their faces when they walked in and revealed their happiness together, but I couldn’t. I let them do what they were best at ; walk all over me.

I kept a smile and nodded, I even congratulated them and wished them happiness. Veronica tried « making things better » by saying that my wedding didn’t have to go to waste because they would just get married. She hugged me and told me that it was the best wedding present ever – and I didn’t stand up for myself at all. I couldn’t even cry !

She then proceeded to ask me to take her spot and be the maid of honour. She had the audacity to joke about switching roles. She’d just have to « erase some people from the guest list and invite her friends. »

My mother was even proud of this ! I was so disgusted with everything that I couldn’t even talk. One second I was planning my wedding and the next I was watching my sister make out with my fiancé.

Something snapped inside of me. My mother pulled me to the side and demanded that I’d be a good sister. To not ruin my sister’s day and be the best maid of honour ever. As she reprimanded me for not smiling enough, I was fighting every nerve in my body to keep myself together.

I didn’t go to their wedding. I didn’t even tell them that I was leaving. I just grabbed a suitcase with a couple of things and left California. I didn’t want to just leave their area, I needed to move states and start all over without the fear of them ruining the rest of my life.

That’s how I ended up living in Lower Area of New York. I could afford a fancy apartment in Manhattan with my savings and earnings, but I didn’t want to risk having my family find me. So, I lived my life totally opposite of what I was accustomed to. In a way, I became my sister.

I became wild and reckless and I lived my days how they came. Clearly the ‘civilised’ way I was living my life was just going to be my downfall, so I’d live like my sister and hope for the best.

It’s been a year since it happened and my parents didn’t bother looking for me. For the first couple of months I lived in fear and locked up in my dingy apartment. I was terrified that they would come find me and ruin the rest of my miserable life for not being Veronica’s maid of honour – they were just those types of people.

Once I realised that they weren’t coming, I went out and partied until dawn. Most of my money was spent partying because the rent was cheap and now that I glanced at my bank account I realised I was in deep shit.

Account balance : $24.98

« Ooh, » I mumbled to myself, slamming my computer shut and fell back on my bed. « I just need to find two more cents and I have $25 ! » I groaned, curling my fingers in my hair and whimpered, « ¡Que jodienda ! »

« Alright, Toby, » I sighed, sitting up on my bed as I looked down at my brown little fur ball, « since I barely have money to buy a happy meal for the rest of the week, I promise not to eat you, if you don’t eat me. »

His brown little ears perked up and he moved his tail lazily, side to side. His bright green eyes stared me down and he licked his paw, slowly – still staring me down, defiantly.

« Fine, fine, » I muttered, caving in and scratched his head, gently, « you win. But promise me that you’ll save the best, yummy parts for last. » He purred as I ran my nails down his beautifully striped back and I grinned as his tail stood in attention. « I should last you about a month, you feline monster ! »

Toby looked up at me, standing up and curled on my lap. « Aw, you don’t want to eat me ? » He licked my finger and I laughed, « You cheater ! I just fed you ! You shouldn’t be hungry yet ! »

He purred loudly, moving his head against my hand as I caressed him. « You’re the only man that comes to me willingly, Toby, » I feigned a whine, giggling when he turned on his back for me to scratch his belly, « you’re not a dog, silly ! »

« Meow, » He wagged his tail side to side, quicker, but playful as he pawed at my hands against his tummy.