“My father didn’t like questions. In our house, his word was law and he qualified all his actions with ’it’s God’s will.’ He channeled the cruelty of the Old Testament hiding it behind a twisted version of the more loving New. I was a teen wanting to do normal teenage things but my father wanted to control what I ate, what I wore, what I read, where I went, who my friends were and what I thought. My mother, either through fear or agreement, supported him and often carried out the punishments. I endured the hunger, being locked in my room and the strap, hoping it would stop him from carrying out his biggest threat, which was the one I feared the most: withdrawing me from school.”
Alice noticed sweat on her mother’s top lip and a chill ran over her skin. She didn’t want to think about what the cruelty of the Old Testament meant. Religion in her own upbringing had been virtually non-existent. Once, when Alice was nine, she’d asked to go to Sunday School, because Amy Lark talked about the fun art and craft activities. Karen had said a very loud and aggressive, “No.”
The response was so unexpected, Alice had yelled, “It's not fair!” Peter had hustled her out of the house but instead of reprimanding her for talking back to Karen, he’d taken her shopping for art supplies. Instead of giving her the usual five-dollar budget and making her choose carefully, that day the funds had been unlimited. For years, Alice had treasured it as a golden moment of her childhood. Now it fell under a long, dark shadow.
“So I stopped questioning and complied,” Karen continued. “On the outside, it looked like I’d become the dutiful daughter he demanded, but school was the only place in my life I could be me. The only place I could escape and dream. I lost myself in study and it saved me. As soon as I finished high school, my father got me a job in the office at the firm where he’d managed to hold onto a job for five years.
“Between home, work and church there was no getting away from him. When I told him I didn’t want the job, he came close to hospitalizing me. I knew the only way to stay in his house and survive would be to hand over control of my life and endure a living death. I couldn’t do it. Not even for Lisa.”
A shiver shot along Alice’s spine. Sometimes it’s important to put yourself first. How could she have lived for so many years and never once twigged that her mother’s childhood had been one of deprivation and abuse?
Karen blew her nose. “I hated leaving Lisa, but the one thing that reassured me that she’d be okay was my father had never hurt her like he’d hurt me. He called her his angel and me the devil incarnate. He loved her and he hated me. I was seventeen and I stupidly believed that her angelic blond hair, cherubic curls and easy disposition would always protect her from his anger. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”
“You did your best, Kaz,” Peter said softly. “The naivety of youth was no match for a bully like your father.”
“After I left home, I tried to see Lisa but he withdrew her from school, got me banned from the church and called the police on me when I tried to see her at home. A year after I’d left, I received a letter from Lisa telling me how much she hated me for abandoning the family and God. I knew then the bastard had succeeded in poisoning my beautiful sister against me. I was dead to my family, and that’s when I started calling myself an orphan.”
Peter squeezed Karen’s hand. “Girls, I don’t know if this helps you understand, but I’d known your mother for over a year before she told me she had a sister.”
Karen cleared her throat. “When Lisa was sixteen, she contacted me completely out of the blue. It was a miracle I got the letter, because I’d moved several times, married your father and changed my name. I immediately called the number she’d given and she told me she was staying with a church family at the beach. I wanted to visit, but she asked me not to, saying the family would only tell our father and then she’d be sent home.
“I should have twigged something was off. I just wish she’d told me she was struggling.”
“She hadn’t seen you in eight years, darling,” Peter said. “Plus, she sent you those photos.”
“Photos I should have questioned.”
Karen extended a trembling hand and Alice accepted a discolored Polaroid. It was an eerie sensation to be looking at a woman Alice had never met, yet felt she knew. Apart from the 1980’s bikini and hairstyle, and the fact two young men were gazing at Lisa with lust bright in their eyes, it was almost identical to a framed photo of Alice that Karen kept on display in the family room. “She looks happy.”
“Perhaps in that moment she was and that’s why she sent it to me. She wanted me to believe it too. Of course, we found out later how desperately miserable she really was. I didn’t know she was pregnant until you were born.” Karen smiled for the first time since she’d started talking. “I don’t believe in God, but I’ve always believed it was meant to be that you and Libby were born on the same day.”
Libby’s hand slipped into Alice’s. “Told you we’re twins.”
“How did you find out about me?” Alice asked, trying to piece everything together.
“After Libby was born, I went home for a shower,” Peter said. “There was a message on the voicemail from a social worker at the Royal Women’s Hospital. Lisa had listed Karen as her next of kin, but she’d vanished
