“No need to go that far, babe. I never said I was a fraud,” she teased, likely trying to avoid the compliment. She didn’t seem to take them very well, always dodging them without making it obvious that’s what she was doing. “Either way, Tiff was born first, so technically, she would be the original.”
“How does that work exactly? Keeping identical twin babies separate, I mean,” I asked right before taking a bite of pizza. Just because she didn’t want it anymore didn’t mean I’d let it go to waste.
“I asked my mom that when I was a kid. She said that we had hospital bands on our ankles that had our names on them. After that, we either wore different clothes to tell us apart, or we were separated—like not in the same crib, not changed at the same time, that sort of thing.”
As if blindly following my lead, she grabbed a slice from the box. But then she picked off the pepperoni, which confused me considering she was the one who requested it to begin with, but rather than ask about it, I wanted to finish the conversation we were in the middle of. “So you two were never dressed in the same outfits? I thought that was a tradition for twins.”
“Oh, I’m sure we did. My parents have one photo of the four of us when Tiff and I were only a couple months old. She and I were in the same clothes, and our parents wore colors that matched us. And I remember when we were little, maybe five or so, Mom always dressed us alike. She said people always got us matching dresses for gifts.”
“It just seems to me that it’d be hard to tell you guys apart.”
“Well, when we got older, we obviously knew our names, so when someone would call us by the other, we’d correct them. Except if Tiff was mad at me, then she wouldn’t correct them. Instead, she’d act like a total brat and get me in even more trouble. Really, it’s astounding how many times I’d hear, ‘I didn’t tell you that you could get out of your room,’ when I was never told to be in there in the first place.”
“Okay, but before you could recognize your name…you have to admit that it’s possible that someone mixed you two up, right? A sitter, a family member, anyone who couldn’t tell you apart and didn’t want to admit that they got you guys confused.”
She finished the slice of pizza, leaving only the crust, and licked her fingers while contemplating my question. Finally, she shrugged and said, “I mean, sure, I guess that could’ve happened. Why?”
“Just proving that it’s entirely possible that you were born first, and therefore, the original, and your sister is the imposter. But because someone put you both down on the floor and forgot who was on the left and who was on the right, you became the younger of the two.”
Tasha laughed, not even bothering to cover her mouth as her amusement filled the room. Such an intoxicating sound. And when she managed to calm down enough to look at me, the sight of her—cheeks pink from her all-consuming fit of laughter, eyes glistening from the sheen of humor-induced tears, smile lines accompanying her curled lips like parentheses—made me pause. I’d never seen anyone so comfortable in their own skin, so content with who they were at their core, and it made me realize one thing…
The only reason Tasha had a shot at pulling off this charade was because no one truly knew Tiffany Lewis. If they did, then they’d see right through the act. No matter how much Tasha practiced being her sister, she’d never be able to disguise herself as anything less than a woman who knew who she was and owned it.
“Are you saying that there’s a chance that I really am Tiffany?” Her laughing questions broke through my thoughts and brought a smile to my face. “I think I’d rather be the imitation, thank you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew I was the real Tiffany Lewis.”
“Well, I meant in name only. Not the personality.”
She shrugged and grabbed another slice, leaving the crust from the last piece still on the paper towel in front of her. “I don’t mind not being the ‘original.’ It just means I was born with a nicer-shaped head, thanks to my sister paving the way out for me. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with her—maybe she was stuck in the birth canal too long and it affected her brain.”
I couldn’t exactly argue with her theory.
“And really, if you think about it,” she continued while picking off more pepperoni. “The first of anything is usually crap anyway. It’s why you should never buy the first generation of a new product. You have to give them time to work out all the kinks and bugs, which makes the second product superior.”
“Being the second child myself, I have to agree with you on that.”
She winked and ate her second slice of pizza. And once again, she ate everything but the crust, setting it down on the paper towel with the other, along with a pile of pepperoni. The way she did this was so normal, as if it were the proper way to eat pizza. I just watched in awe, waiting to find out what she planned to do with it. I couldn’t fathom her not wanting the meat after specifically requesting it on the pie.
“So back to this plan about my sister and her cheating ways,” she said after swallowing another bite. “Just about everything is on camera, so I’d have to make sure it’s not obvious. And as much as I like your idea of getting Serenity involved, I feel like there’s a hundred percent chance of that coming back to bite me. She just might have my sister beat on the chib-o-meter.”
She was on her third slice at
