I stared at my father, waiting for him to explain what he meant, but he kept his eyes lowered. “What do you mean?” I asked, and when he didn't answer immediately, I leaned closer. “Dad, what do you mean I wasn't born alone?”
“There were two of you,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
I blinked at him. “Two of us?” I repeated, but the words sounded strange coming from my mouth. He nodded slowly. “You and another child,” he said.
I waited for the rest, but there was nothing else. “Another child?” I asked.
“Your sister,” he said.
I stared at him, waiting for him to take it back but he didn't. I had spent twenty years believing I was an only child, and suddenly my father was sitting in front of me telling me there had always been someone else. “My sister?” I asked.
“She w
