She was my mirror image.
My life in reverse.
We were the Moon and Stars. Yin and Yang. Light and Dark. Fire and Ice. Throw any damn cliché you like into the mix and that’s what we were.
Emmy was born two moments after me. This made me her big sister by practically nothing. I came out of my mother’s womb yelling and she came out grabbing my ankle. Apparently.
Mom says we always did everything in turn. When I ate, Emmy puked. When Emmy puked, I shat. When I didn’t cry Emmy bawled.. ad infinitum. We were difficult. No question.
Even when Emmy and I, (Sharlene by the way) grew to our teens we continued on that far flung vein of opposition. I passed English Language, she flunked it and passed Math instead. When I joined the Hockey Team she joined Junior Basketball. When we liked boys? No Problem! Because Emmy never liked the same boy as me. It just seemed like our differences were endless.
When Emmy died a year ago I thought my life would end two minutes later.
It didn’t even end a week, or a month later. I continued to breathe whilst Emmy was buried in dirt where her lungs must have dried up and collapsed like crumbling rock. There are times I wish that I had died instead, or with her. I know that’s morbid, but Emmy and me, we belong together even though we are two separate people.
If I told you the whole story about Emmy and me, you’d think we were two peas in a different pod. I’ll let you decide on that anyway. I just need to get it down, out, where it doesn’t hurt me anymore.
In 2004 Emmy and I were watching different shows in different rooms on two different TV’s. See? We couldn’t even agree on watching the same show together. Then I heard a bang through the wall which sounded too much like skull knocking on hard floor. I jumped off my bed and ran from my olive bedroom to her deep purple one.
She was lying there, twisted, like someone had picked her up and dropped her from the ceiling. I can’t really remember what happened next but there was a lot of noise and just a few hours later Emmy was in the ITU fighting to live.
Whilst inside I was fighting to die.
She had contracted Meningitis. The disease went straight to her brain and we were told that the next twelve hours would be critical.
Well one decent thing I can say is that Emmy ‘mentally’ died watching her favourite stupid reality show. She also died in clean underwear which is something she used to worry about. The following morning after her death she was due to receive a badge of honour for helping primary care children with ‘special needs’ learn to read. Her badge was collected anyway and placed inside her coffin. I remember how much I wanted to tear out my heart and put it inside with her.
The most horrible thing about Emmy’s death is that I am still alive. And those things she left behind? Boy they really sting! Maybe you don’t need to know about them but I’m telling you anyway because it’s Emmy’s most final mark on the planet.
It’s a long long list that reads like ‘The Ending of Emmy.’
A half sucked lolly pop stuck to her pillow. Two paranormal books, dog-eared, scattered on her bed (subjects I hate, but finished for her.) A pair of new heels to collect for the prom. A prom dress to collect from the laundromat. A boy who can’t take her to the prom. (I’d go with him but, meh, he’s not my type.) A promise to me that she’d pay me back $5 (I forgave her for skipping out on that.) A half finished sketch of a horse (why did she love those stinky animals so much anyway?)
The one that hurts me most is that promise! Crazy?
A promise that we would never leave each other alone.
God, Emmy, you failed that one miserably.
So a few times over the course of that year I tried to end my life, but each time I tried I was saved or I was too freakin’ scared to go through with it. Then came the pills, they kept me awake and shivering at night and helped me to forget how to live during the day. But that wasn’t exactly kosher in the real world because the world only responds when you sit up and pay attention to it.
Live by the rules.
Anyway, I couldn’t get my act together afterwards, and fourteen months after Emmy’s death Mom had a nervous breakdown. Dad had an affair.
In the end I was a complete basket case, written off as Emmy’s ‘poor disturbed twin.’ Could I blame Emmy for all of that? Well, I could, but I don’t. I too kinda lost my life in a tragic way, but you know what really stings me the most?
The fact that I can’t join my sister.
Because Emmy would kick my ass on the other side. I couldn’t die because that would make us the same, and we never ever were. I would do anything to swap seats with Emmy. To leave her a damn list called ‘The Ending of Sharlene.’ She could finish my books, suck on my lolly pop and leave FIVE GODDAM DOLLARS INSIDE MY COFFIN!
But that wasn’t the script. And I know I shouldn’t be mad with her because she didn’t write it.
Emmy you suck but I love you from the bottom of my soul to the furthermost galaxy.
Let’s face it. We were always going to be opposites, she and I. Always. And perhaps my ending will be her new beginning.
I figured that the life of a twin is strange, but nothing can change that we are yin, we are yang.
We are fire and ice.
Light and dark.
My twin Emmy.