The Color of Hope (The Color of Heaven Series) (8 page)

I’m sure, in this moment, you are imagining how you would react upon seeing your exact likeness, but I assure you, it’s nothing like you could ever predict. I was in shock. It was frightening and disturbing.

Yet I was smiling.

As I slid off the stool, and my twin slowly made her way toward me, our gazes remained locked on each other’s. I wanted to shout, “Holy crap!” but I held my tongue.

Nadia was not smiling, however. Her eyes were focused on my face with a curious intensity. Then her brows drew together in bewilderment, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. When she reached me, I half expected her to poke my cheeks to make sure I was real.

At last we came to stand before each other, and her expression softened.

“We’re definitely twins,” she said, and I nearly fainted at the tone of her voice, because she sounded just like me.

“Yes.” I held out my hand. “I’m Diana.”

“I’m Nadia.”

Our hands were an exact fit.

In unison, we dropped them to our sides, then continued to stare at each other, examining all the details.

I noticed she had a T-zone complexion, like me. Her hips were about the same width, and even the veins on the tops of her feet were identical to mine.

My eyes lifted and I studied the color and texture of her hair. It was thick and wavy, like mine was on the days I didn’t use a flat iron.

How strange, to see myself in another person and know that we shared the same genes. Because I was adopted, this was a first for me.

“Wow,” the bartender said, and his voice pulled me out of my reverie. “You guys must be twins.”

We both shot a glance at him, as if his comment was a terrible intrusion, then our eyebrows lifted and we smiled at each other.

“Yes,” I replied, and felt my eyes fill with tears. “We’re sisters.”

Nadia’s eyes sparkled with wetness as well. Then she stepped forward into my arms. We embraced each other while we wept, and I felt as if I had just found the sister I had been missing – and grieving for – all my life, though I never consciously knew it.

A
S SOON AS
we sat down at our table in the back of the restaurant, I reached for the wine list, which was standing up on the white tablecloth, next to the charming accent lamp in the center. “We should get a bottle,” I said. “I think we may be here for a while.”

“Definitely,” Nadia replied.

“Do you like red or white?” I asked, trying not to sound like I was interrogating her, but I was curious about her tastes and preferences. How identical were we?

“I’m okay with either,” she replied. I continued to peruse the list, until I felt her lean forward over the table, as if she wanted to share a secret with me. “Actually, I’m a beer drinker,” she whispered, “but this is a classy place, so I’ll opt for wine.”

My eyes lifted and I regarded her over the top of the menu. Demurely, I closed it and set it aside. “Actually, a cold beer would go down really well right now,” I said.

We grinned at each other, as if we were sharing a private joke, and I felt as if I was on an exciting first date.

We were definitely clicking. The chemistry was palpable.

Oh my God
. She was my twin sister.

The waiter arrived at our table. “Good evening, ladies,” he said. “Can I get you started with something to drink?”

I took the liberty of placing the order. “Could you bring us a couple of beers?”

He didn’t even flinch. “Certainly.” Then he began to list off all the brands they carried. I deferred the selection to Nadia.

“Bud Light,” she said.

He complimented her on her choice and left us alone again.

“This is so weird,” I said, resting my forearms on the table. “I feel like I should apologize, because I can’t stop staring at you.”

“I’m doing the same thing,” she told me. She waved a finger, gesturing at my eyebrows. “You must go to a really good aesthetician. I love the arch of your brows.”

I touched my forehead. “I go every four weeks to get them shaped. But if I didn’t, they’d look exactly like yours.”

“You’ll have to tell me the name of place. I’ll give the lady a heart attack if I show up the day after she does you. She’ll think your hair follicles are on steroids.”

I laughed. “This is nuts.” We continued to stare at each other, and I was tempted to pull out my cell phone and refer to the list of questions I’d compiled to ask Nadia, but I left it in my purse.

“I want to know all about your life,” I said. “Tell me about your family and where you grew up. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

She glanced uneasily to the left, and I knew immediately that she was uncomfortable.

“I grew up in Washington,” she told me, but I interrupted her before she could go any further.

“Really? My parents live in Washington now. They have an apartment there.”

She nodded, as if she already knew.

But of course she would know. My dad wasn’t exactly a nobody.

“I didn’t have any brothers or sisters,” she told me. “My parents couldn’t have kids, which is why they adopted me. I think it was my dad’s fault, but who knows.”

“What do your parents do?” I asked her.

The waiter arrived just then with two glasses of beer. “Are you ready to order, or would you like a few more minutes?”

“A few more minutes, please,” I replied, and he left us alone again.

“Continue,” I said to Nadia. “You were telling me about your parents.”

She picked up her beer, guzzled a few sips, and set it back down. “My dad was a mason, and my mom worked as a maid in a hotel.”

“Which hotel?”

“The Wellington.”

My emotions swirled about, and I leaned back in my chair. “You’re joking.”

“No, why?” she asked.

“Because I must have stayed at that hotel a hundred times. We lived in Bar Harbor, but Dad had to travel to Washington a lot for work, and that’s where we always stayed. When did your mom work there?”

Nadia stared at me with fascination. “I’m not sure when she started, but she worked there until I was twelve. Then we moved to LA.”

“That’s crazy!” I laughed. “I stayed there when I was a kid. Your mom might have cleaned our room.”

As the words spilled from my lips, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. I didn’t normally suffer from foot-in-mouth disease, but for some reason tonight, sitting across from my identical twin made me feel as if it was okay to say anything.

We were both quiet for a moment.

“Did
your
mom work?” Nadia asked.

“On and off,” I replied, thankful to change the subject. “She did PR and communications for some non-profit organizations.” We each sipped our beer. “But I should answer your question from the email,” I said. “You wanted to know if my parents knew about you. I called my mother this afternoon to ask, and she was just as shocked as we were to discover what happened. They didn’t know, and if they had, they definitely would have adopted you, too. No matter what. She was very upset they weren’t given that chance.”

Nadia’s eyebrows flicked up, as if to say, “That’s typical.” Then her eyes turned cold.

“Where are your parents now?” I asked.

Again, Nadia glanced to the left, and I could see that she was uncomfortable. She didn’t want to talk about her family, and it made my insides churn with dread. Had her childhood been unhappy? I couldn’t bear to think of that. It made me feel guilty for being adopted by perfect parents who loved me more than breathing.

“My dad had a drinking problem,” Nadia said. “He left when I was nine. I have no idea where he is now. They got a divorce, which was probably a good thing because he had a mean streak. And my mom...” She paused. “She died a few years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I wished I could make it better somehow, but I felt as if I was standing on the outskirts, in the dark. If this was a play, I didn’t know my lines.

Nadia shrugged, but I could see there was nothing cavalier about the gesture. She simply didn’t enjoy talking about her parents, or want to become emotional.

“Lung cancer,” she flatly said. “Smoked like a chimney. On that note, if you don’t mind, I need to pop outside for a minute. Like mother like daughter,” she cheerfully said, though there was a note of apology in her voice.

“No problem.” I sat back and picked up my beer.

As soon as Nadia left the restaurant, the waiter returned. “Everything okay here? Can I get you anything?”

I picked up the menu. “I’m sorry, we haven’t even had a chance to look at this yet. My friend – I mean my
sister
– just went outside for a minute. She’ll be right back.”

“No problem. Take your time.” He left again.

As I read over the menu, however, I was compelled to check the door repeatedly, because I wasn’t entirely certain my sister intended to return at all.

W
HEN THE DOOR
opened and Nadia walked back into the restaurant, I laid the menu down and flopped back in my chair, realizing that if she hadn’t returned, I would have been devastated. All my life, I’d been unaware –
unconscious
– of the fact that I’d shared my birth mother’s womb with a sister, and that she had been torn from my side. Now that I knew it, I found myself wrestling with both heartache and happiness.

The knowledge of her existence was like a fluorescent light over my head, buzzing noisily for a few seconds as it flickered on in a dark room. Suddenly, I was enlightened.

At the same time, I was grief-stricken that we’d been denied the opportunity to grow up together. Those were years we could never get back. They’d been stolen from us. It resembled a successful bank heist, carried out in the middle of the night. We hadn’t even known it occurred.

I couldn’t bear to imagine losing her again. Now that I’d found her, I needed to hold on. Get to know her. Heal this newly discovered anguish that had always been there, secret and subtle in its presence.

I suspected she must be feeling the same way. She had to be.

As she sat down, I said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Sorry about that. This is a lot to take in.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me. I get it. I was just thinking about how I never knew you existed until today, but maybe in a way, I did.” I looked around the restaurant at all the other people sitting at tables, smiling, talking, and laughing.

“I wonder if that’s why I was always so focused on filling my life with challenges to keep me busy,” I said. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a high achiever, desperate to succeed, as if success would fill a hole somehow and distract me from thinking too deeply about who I really am. I never knew anything about my birth mother. I never even tried to learn who she was. I suppose I didn’t want to think about it. Maybe I was avoiding something I knew was missing. Something painful.”

Nadia placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on the heels of her hands. “Funny,” she said, “there was never any doubt in my mind that something was missing from my life. I always knew it, and I always felt deprived, as if I was floating out to sea with nothing to hang on to but a banged up life ring. I thought it was because we didn’t have any money, and my mom was always working, so I was alone a lot. But now that I think about it, I probably knew that I had lost my real family, and I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.” She, too, glanced around at the other patrons in the restaurant. “I’ve always had a hard time connecting with people, because I expect them to leave me eventually. I never had a best friend I could trust to stick around forever.” She leaned back in her chair. “That word...
Forever
. I roll my eyes whenever I see it engraved on bracelets, or written in greeting cards.”

“I’m sorry, Nadia,” I said. “I’m sorry that we were separated, and I’m especially sorry about your mom.” After a long pause, I was brave enough to ask the question: “Are you involved with anyone? A boyfriend? Are you married?”

“No,” she said, “I’ve had a few relationships, but nothing has ever lasted more than a few months. Boyfriends always tell me I’m too clingy. What about you?”

“I’m living with someone,” I replied. “Actually, he’s the friend I mentioned in my letter – the one who came to your office to check and see if you were my double. He asked for directions to the restroom.”

Nadia’s head drew back in surprise. “Oh, my God, yes. The other day... I remember him. Really good looking. Colgate smile.”

I was amused by her description. “That’s him. His name is Rick, and he encouraged me to contact you.”

Nadia’s chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “Well.” She picked up her beer and took a sip. “You’re a lucky girl. Are you going to marry him?”

For a long moment I sat there, uncertain, unable to answer. I just stared across the table at her.

Then I confessed something I hadn’t confessed to anyone. Not my mother, not my sister Becky, or any of my closest friends.

“We don’t really talk about the future,” I said. “To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure he ever wants to get married, or have children. He seems to be allergic to anything permanent.”

“What do
you
want?” Nadia asked, and I was strangely comforted by the sight of my reflection in her eyes.

How odd, that I felt I could trust this woman with my deepest insecurities – a woman I’d only just met – and that she would understand. It was as if I had met my alter ego. Another version of myself. Was that overly romantic and naïve of me? Was I too trusting?

Perhaps.

“I want to get married and have kids,” I told her. “Not right away, of course. I’m just getting started with my career, but by the time I’m thirty, I’d like to have certain things secured.”

“
Secured
.” Nadia dropped her gaze to her lap. “That’s an interesting word. I’ve always believed that nothing can ever be truly secure. You never know when the rug is going to get pulled out from under you. One of us could walk out that door tonight and get hit by a bus.”

“True,” I replied, “but you can’t live your life like that, expecting the worst to happen. You have to hold on to the hope that everything is going to turn out right. Eventually.”