“Ravenna’s pale pink hairbrush and Tanner’s dark brown one,” I finish with a smile.
Mavra’s mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. “Okay, but what does that have to do with supercala…whatever that word was you said and why would you need another DNA test when you already got the blood test results that Tobias was yours and Ravenna’s father?”
Pulling my hands out of hers, I fold them together in my lap.
“Superfecundation is the fertilization of two eggs from two different sperm donors. There haven’t been too many documented cases and the ones that were made public always resulted in fraternal twins, not identical twins.”
I pause and wait for it to fall into place.
“Do you get it now? Does it all make sense?” I whisper, repeating the same questions I asked when I finished telling the girls my story.
“Oh my God,” Mavra mutters. “OH MY GOD!”
Her voice grows louder and I can’t help but laugh.
“I just…OH MY GOD!” she yells again.
Raising my eyebrow, I let her be the one to finish it. I’ve had enough fun for the day.
“Tobias was your father and Tanner was Ravenna’s,” Mavra says, shaking her head back and forth in awe. “You probably really were fraternal twins, but since Tanner and Tobias looked exactly alike, even with the two-year age difference, you were born identical, with the exception of your birthmark.”
I watch as Mavra drops her head to the back of the couch and stares up at the ceiling.
“I think my mind is officially blown,” she mutters.
I laugh, shifting my body away from her and rest my head on the back of the couch, just like my daughter.
“You know, you lied about one thing,” she says, still staring up at the ceiling.
Turning my head, I study her profile in confusion. She quickly does the same and now it’s her turn to smile.
“Your name is Tatiana Duskin, and you STILL live in a prison,” she says, her smile growing wider until she bursts out laughing.
Proving her point, the doorbell downstairs chooses that moment to chime.
Mavra pushes herself up from the couch with a sigh, holding her hand out to help me up.
“I can’t believe you’re still giving tours of this place,” she says as we walk out of the living room in the family quarters of Gallow’s Hill and down the stairs.
“Where else was I going to go after my family was gone?” I ask, taking my time down the stairs so I don’t fall. “Besides, I was able to recite the history of this place backward and forward by the time I was ten. It was a fun little exercise Dr. Thomas made me do in between shock therapy sessions.”
When we get to the bottom, Mavra slides her hand through the crook of my arm and we walk to the door together. Pausing before I open the door and greet the group of tourists, I turn to face her, resting my hands on her cheeks.
“I love you, Mavra Michaels, my perfectly bad, beautiful daughter,” I tell her, leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead.
“I love you too, my crazy, amazingly bad mother,” she replies with a smile when I pull back from her.
“Tell that husband of yours his mother-in-law says hello. It seems a little strange that I haven’t seen him in a few months.”
The corner of her mouth tips up in a cocky smile, so much like my father’s and exactly like mine.
“Funny, I haven’t seen him in a few months either,” she replies with a casual shrug. “Make sure you check out the yellow rosebush on the south side of the property. They are growing like crazy. Must be that new fertilizer I used.”
Mavra gives me a wink before opening the front door.
“Hello, welcome to Gallow’s Hill! My name is Mavra and I’m the head groundskeeper. This lovely lady will be your tour guide,” Mavra announces, pointing in my direction. “Her name is Tatiana Duskin. She’s sixty-eight years old, and she lives in a prison.”
The End
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my husband, James. You believed in this story right at the moment I first began to ramble incessantly during our prison tour, and I didn’t shut up for the next two weeks. Thanks for pulling all-nighters, reading chapters as I wrote, screaming at me for only sending one at a time, and talking me down from the ledge when I cried for three hours straight. Thank you for loving me, thank you for supporting everything I do, and thank you for being my biggest fan.
A dedication of thanks will never be enough for Stephanie Johnson and Michelle Kannan. Thank you for always being there with support and threats to anyone who dares not to like something I wrote! I love you more than words can express and I am blessed to call you my friends.
A great big thank-you, hug, and promise of giving you my firstborn (don’t worry, she does laundry and dishes) to Aleatha Romig for being the best cheerleader in the world and helping me after I finished with my crying fit. Thank you for the advice, shoulder to cry on (scream, curse, yell, etc.), and for welcoming me to the dark side.