Just The Tip - Cassandra Dee Page 0,27

smell coming from him, like putrid garbage.

“I can see you’ve been discussing something serious and I think I have the answer to your questions,” he continued. “Violet!” he called. “Come in please!”

And in sashayed a blonde, stunning in her striking resemblance to Jenna. She was the same height, the same weight, the same stunning features except that she’d aged poorly. There were small wrinkles around her nose and mouth, crow’s feet bracketing her eyes, her skin orange and tired, the result of too many tanning sessions.

“Hiya all,” giggled the other woman. “I understand you’re my twin, Jenna. Nice to meet you!” she chirped as her breasts bobbled.

And both Jenna and I could only stare. Who was this woman and how did she get here?

16

Jenna

It’s amazing how my family fractured after the revelation that I had a secret twin. I confronted my mom.

“Mary,” I said carefully. “Do you have my birth certificate? Can I see it?”

My mom hemmed and hawed.

“Jenna, why now?” she asked. “You have your passport, your social security card, is there some reason you need your birth certificate?”

“Ma,” I said slowly. “I need to see it. I need to verify something.”

“Well, I don’t have it,” she said hurriedly. “It’s in a safe somewhere, it’s been ages since I saw it myself.”

“Ma,” I said slowly. “I’m only going to ask you once. Am I your daughter? Am I Jenna Walsh or am I a member of another family?”

My mom sighed. She could see that I was onto the truth and determined to sniff it out no matter what.

“Jenna, it’s a long story,” she said tiredly. “I don’t have time to share it with you now, in fact, I was hoping never to tell you.”

I lost it. “Tell me!” I screamed. “My career has been ruined and everything I believe is a lie, my history, my sisters, even you,” I spat. “None of you ever liked me, I became a shrew because I never felt loved. Tell me there was a reason why. I need to make sense of this.”

And my mom began. Evidently she and my dad were struggling financially around the time she was pregnant with Tina. They were friends with another young couple down the street, the Goldens, who were also financially strapped and the foursome naturally bonded, sharing the best places to shop cheaply, how to save on a limited income, that kind of thing.

But the Goldens were evidently quite a bit worse off than my parents. Elaine Golden was expecting twins and she and her husband were panicked at the thought of two baby girls, destitute as they were, living in a shanty with peeling wallpaper, dirty dishes in the sink, no way to provide for one, much less two new children.

They’d begged my parents to take one of the girls, figuring that it was better than having both girls removed by Children’s Services once their horrid living conditions were discovered.

So Mary and Doug had taken me in, raising me to believe that I was Tina’s twin, while my real sister was Violet Golden, the girl in the video. When Elaine and Mark Golden asked for me back, Mom and Dad ignored the requests, instead making off with us, moving multiple times, an itinerant childhood to say the least.

But despite wanting to keep me, the secrecy wore them down. I was nothing like my sisters and Mary never developed a real parental feel for me, instead always treating me like an outsider, an intruder in my own family. As a result, I grew up with a bitch of a personality, a chip on my shoulder, never feeling loved, never feeling safe for some unnamed reason.

The strain had been too much and Dad had taken off, unable to deal with the stress of multiple lies, moving all the time, the generally poisonous atmosphere. Mom had been left with the four of us and her wrath was often directed at me.

“Apologize to Tina,” she commanded after another infraction. “Say you’re sorry to your sister.”

“But I’ve done nothing!” my eight year-old self protested. “It was just an accident and look, Tina spilled syrup on me,” I said, my hair sticky with molasses. The tangled part was going to have to be chopped off, leaving me with a comically lopsided bob.

“Say you’re sorry Jenna, or I’ll come over and tear out your hair myself,” Mary hissed.

And so I’d grown up bullied even within my own family, nobody ever taking my side. Was it a miracle that I’d survived? I’d