My sister hurled red wine across my dress uniform and told me I had no place in that ballroom, my father told security to get me out before I humiliated his future son-in-law, and I watched the stain slide over my ribbons, checked the countdown on my watch, and said, “You’re right. I don’t,” because in less than a minute the entire room was going to understand why I had really come.
were not twins. They didn’t always arrive at the same time.
When we finally looked at each other, we still resembled sisters. We had the same dark eyes. We had the same stubborn, set jaw. We possessed the exact same instinct to survive public humiliation by locking our shoulders back and standing tall.
The only difference was that I had learned early continue reading …
