Her Non-Existent Fairytale

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|Cayenne|

I wasn't a normal thirteen-year-old.

'So, is this, like a diary or something?'

My mum is a massive realist. Unlike most parents who, shield their children from the 'evilness' of the world, she did the opposite. She showed me how to fight them, and shoved me into their dungeon. She made me to see the real face of the world, and I embraced it. I was told that I look exactly like my mum, and that I got nothing from dad. I have her bright eyes and hair. Even her attitude. They said that we both strive for an extraordinary life. Maybe that's why she married dad, when my grandparents are racist, she had an open marriage with dad, and became friends with the woman he 'accidentally' impregnated. My uncle Levi became 100 dollars richer.

'Uncle Levi! The rotten apple of the family.'

Maybe it wasn't the best idea to tell her thirteen-year-old daughter about it. One of the things that I hate about being a clone of my mum is the comments about being a model. I would always answer, 'Yeah, sure I look like mum but that doesn't mean I have to like what she likes. And have what she had.' I sometimes hate that I got nothing from dad. Everytime I look in the mirror, all I see is a skinny giraffe with pasty skin, piercing green eyes and dirty blonde hair. The dimples on her cheek and pimple on her forehead is just an extra.

I remembered when I first had my period, mum gave me her version of the talk. She gave me one box each of every sizes that there is in a condom and told me to use it wisely. I tried to throw it in the rubbish bin, but it just came back on my nightstand every time.

I remembered when I was thirteen. It was a very sunny day in Italy. I was out on the backyard, playing Scrabble with my friends. Dad came home, I hugged him. He asked me where mum is, I told him she was in the kitchen. Dad's eyes look sad, I instantly knew that there was a problem. I went back outside and told my friends to go home. They all went to the front door, where their cars were parked. I waved at them good bye and went back inside. I made my way to kitchen, my shoes clacking on the granite floor, the sound echoing around the house. I expected some kind of noise to come from the kitchen but there are none. I saw mum and dad sitting on the bar stool. Both of their faces was blank. At my entrance, both of them turned to me.

Father cleared his throat. "Great timing. I was just telling your mother, some... news."  I sat opposite of them.

I glance at them. Mum's eyes was still the same, except for a hint of bitterness on it. Her mouth was set in a flat line, a contrast to her usual bright smile. Dad looks calm, though his hands says otherwise. It was shaking badly. "So what's the news? Hit me." I attempted to lighten the mood. Attempted being the keyword. Their faces remain impassive.

"You have brothers." I wasn't surprised. Ever since mum told me that they have an open relationship, I've been expecting for siblings to pop up. I grabbed the lemon water on the tray set at the side and sipped on it. "And we're getting a divorce."

I took another sip and kept my face blank of any emotions, "What's their names?"

Both of them blinked at the same time, I resisted the urge to laugh. "I'm sorry, what?" Dad asked. My question was simple, why do they want for me to repeat it?

"I sai-," Mum cut me off. "It's Graham and Gresham. Twins. A year older than you. The other one, Gresham, is an aspiring model. Maybe you've seen him on a few pages." I nodded slightly, satisfied.

"Okay, I want to stay with mum. And I want to meet them." I stood up and made my way to the doorway. I heard dad mumble to mum, "I think our daughter took this much lighter than we thought she will."