The Twin Who Chose Death

I was a twin. I made it outtook the first breath, got the first coo. My brother, Ben, didnt. He was gone before they even cut the cord.

My mother, unable to have more children, gave me every ounce of the love she had saved for two. It was a beautiful, crushing kind of devotion.

On my birthday, Mom and Dad bought two cakes: one pink, one blue.

When it came to toys, if I chose a Barbie, they would always insist on getting a G.I. Joe.

For school pictures, Id be dressed like a sweet princess one year, and then like a handsome little prince the next.

Later, I wanted to learn piano, and they bought a Steinway, but they also scoured the entire Boston area to enroll me in the most competitive private basketball camp.

They gave me a double life. Double the love, double the expectations, double the roles to fill.

It was during the Lunar New Year dinner, on the year we would have both turned twelve, that Dad insisted on a "family portrait."

Mom took my picture, used a photo-editing app to gender-swap my face into an image of a solemn boy, and placed it next to the original photo of me.

Because I hadnt managed a convincing smilemy face was tired, my heart heavyMom snapped. The breakdown was swift and violent.

She slammed her hand across my cheek. Why couldnt you have been born one second sooner? If it wasn't for you, your brother would be alive!

You stole his identity and his love. Now you stand here, sulking, poisoning our memory of him!

I wish it had been him who survived! He wouldnt be cold and heartless like you. If you don't want to be here, then get out! I am done with you!

She threw the steaming dinner onto my chest and shoved me out the front door, wearing nothing but a thin sweater.

This time, I didn't beg forgiveness.

I just closed my eyes and made the only wish a ghost-in-training could make: Send me back twelve years. Let me trade places with him.

The familiar, reassuring pressure of the womb surrounded me, but a sudden, terrifying squeeze made me thrash instinctively.

Push! The baby is crowning!

Wait! Somethings wrong. The position of the first one is bad. If she doesnt get out now, the smaller one behind her will suffocate!

The words hit me like a physical blow. This was it. This was the moment of my birth, and the weak, struggling pressure next to methat was Ben. My brother.

I turned. I reversed the direction of my desperate crawl, enduring the sudden, crushing feeling of suffocation.

I strained, pushing Ben outward, toward the light.

But he was too weak. Even without sight, I could feel how frail his movements were. Even if he made it out, his life would be a struggle.

I hesitatedshould I just let him go first?

Suddenly, my mother, Caroline, screamed through her pain.

I heard her voice, ragged with panic and determination:

Save my son first! The boyhes weaker!

The doctor sounded frantic: Maam, we cant choose who comes out first!

Outside, my father, Jonah, his voice hoarse, insisted:

You must save my son first! If my son dies, every one of you will pay the price!

Save my son, do you hear me!

A cold dread settled in my heart, colder than the New England winter air.

They were back, too. They had returned to this moment, and their priority hadn't changed.

Fine.

If that was the case, I wouldn't stand in their way.

Ben weakly lifted a hand, trying to scramble forward.

I strained harder, creating space for him.

The head is out! The head is out!

Perhaps sensing the rush of fresh air, Bens kicking became stronger. He pummeled me, contorting my body, causing a blinding, internal pain.

I started to flinch, to struggle back.

But Mom suddenly tensed her abdominal muscles, stopping the progress.

Is it a boy or a girl? Save my son! If the girl comes out first, it will kill my son!

A nurse tried to restrain her: Maam, if you do that, both babies will die!

From the other side of the room, another voice, frantic, cut through the tension:

The smaller babys heart rate is dropping! Its getting too weak!

In that instant, Mom relaxed.

Oh, my baby Im so sorry, Ben. Even with a second chance, I cant save you.

My own heartbeat was growing faint.

I wanted to rub against her, to tell her not to grieve. Ben was fine. He was healthy. It was me who was dying, so please, don't be sad.

But I was a fetal ghost. I had no voice.

Outside, Dads voice was choked with tears:

If I could, I would trade my life for the life of that baby. He was so small, he never got to see the world.

Lottie, how could you be so cruel? How could you leave nothing for your brother?

As the air thinned, a crippling, dying pain washed over me. My parents had wanted him so badly. How much pain they must have felt when only I survived in our first life.

I remembered the christening blankets. They had bought one for each of us. Mine was threadbare, patched in places. Ben's was immaculate, kept in a satin pouch, which Mom would hold while she cried herself to sleep.

She was a gifted seamstress. Shed make me a dress, and then meticulously make a tiny, matching vest and bow tie for the brother who was never there.

Ben would be calling me Mommy by now, she would whisper to the sewing machine.

Dont worry, Mom.

Soon, you will hear him call your name.

As Ben kicked and climbed over me, I gently lifted my own form, giving him purchase, letting him use my twisted, cord-wrapped body as a stepping stone.

My limbs warped, my neck squeezed tight by the umbilical cord.

But I didn't regret it.

When Bens head finally slipped through, I felt a deep, peaceful relief.

Its you. You survived.

My parents wouldnt have to look at me and see only a shadow, wouldn't have to imagine a boy's face on my own. I wouldn't have to be the freak who was a girl on pink days and a boy on blue days.

When the release came, I saw him: wrinkled, small, but letting out a tiny, weak cry.

I wanted to touch him, but I was dead, and I didn't want my touch to bring him sorrow.

The nurse holding him smiled kindly: What a strong boy. Maam, would you like to see him?

Get out! Take him away! Don't let that that thing near me!

But hes

I dont care what it is! Get her away! I dont want to see her!

Hearing my mothers hysterical voice, the nurse nodded quickly and retreated.

I froze.

Ben had survived. Why was Mom reacting like this?

I desperately drifted towards her: Mom, look! Its Ben! He's alive! Hes strong and healthy. You will love him.

But she didnt hear me. Her eyes were glazed over, and she was stroking the dead weight in her belly.

Lottie, you are a menace. You even tried to kill your own brotheryour own flesh and blood!

She suddenly gasped, eyes wide with horror.

Doctor, please! Save my son! Hes so small! He cant die before he even takes a breath! Please, save him!

The doctors exchanged uneasy glances.

One said, softly: Were so sorry, maam. The other child the girl she passed away. Its been too long. We are very sorry.

Mom couldn't contain it anymore. She screamed Bens name, a raw, primal sound of grief.

Outside the operating room, Dad collapsed to the floor, not even glancing at the healthy baby boy the nurse held.

Ben, I would trade my life for yours.

I sat next to him, a faint smile on my lips, tears streaming from my unseeing eyes.

Mom and Dad, neither of you will have to be hurt.

Inside, the doctors removed my tiny, deceased body.

Mom reached out and carefully, tenderly, took the bloody, unrecognizable fetal remains into her arms.

My Ben, my precious Ben I didnt even get a chance to love you.

She gently kissed my forehead, her face ravaged by grief.

The nurse tried to take methe remainsbut Mom held on tighter.

Let us have a moment. He grew in my belly for ten months. If you take him now, hell be scared.

The other nurse, holding the healthy, crying boyBenstood awkwardly, unsure what to do.

Bens wails intensified, a robust, healthy sound.

Mom looked at him with revulsion: Stop that noise! You have no right to cry! You just killed your brother and now you want our attention? You are an animal!

How could I have a daughter like you?

The nurse quickly interjected: Maam, youre mistaken, this is actually a

She couldn't finish the sentence.

Mom screamed hysterically: Im mistaken about nothing! She is a monster! You are holding a murderer! You expect me to love her?

The nurses mouth gaped in disbelief.

She turned to speak to my father.

But Dad was on the phone, his expression shattered: Ben is gone arrange the funeral. Get the plot readythe one I bought next to ours.

He heard the person on the other end say something about the survivor.

She survived, so what? Do you think Ben wasn't your grandson, too? He's dead! Can't you show him some compassion?

Leave Lottie to the hospital staff. Shes strong. Shell be fine!

Dad rubbed his temples, then called his assistant.

The assistants tone was cautious: Sir, the person who owns the plot right next to yours is finally willing to sell it. Its perfect for you, the missus, and the young master and miss

Dad cut him off, his voice flat.

I dont need it. The plots are for me, Caroline, and Ben. As for Lottie, she will certainly outlive us all. She can be buried wherever she damn well pleases.

Seeing the paralyzed nurse, Dad snapped impatiently: Get that that menace out of here. Shes an eyesore.

I stood there, paralyzed, unable to weep.

Mom had just given birth; she was frail. I remembered in the first life, she never recovered from the illness she caught during her month of confinement. I wanted to tell her to rest.

Dad walked over, draping his coat around her shoulders.

Its cold. Stay inside, don't get sick.

Mom clutched my dead, unrecognizable formthe remains she thought were Bencloser. Her eyes were red-rimmed.

Im staying right here. Ben was so small. He needs me to stay with him.

Last life, I grieved too much, and I let Lottie distract me. Ben left this world so lonely. This time, Im going to make it up to him.

My heart felt like it was being ripped apart, twisted tight.

But Mom.

Last time, you cried for three full months. You visited the grave every day. If that wasnt enough, what possibly could be?

Dad held Mom tightly, his voice rough with emotion.

Carly, some things are just missed. But we still have Lottie. We promised her double the love. You lost control at dinner the other night. She must be devastated.

Mom closed her eyes and fresh tears spilled out.

I know. But I can't help it. Every time I see her, I think of Ben. She killed him twice, Jonah. How can I love her?

Am I a terrible mother? To wish my own living child dead just to bring Ben back?

Dad remained silent, but I knew what he was thinking.

But even with their warped sense of reality, I couldn't deny the love they had shown me.

When I was little, I was always sickly in the winter. They would scold me for not taking care of myself, but then patiently sit by my bed for days until my fever broke.

When I struggled with school, they hired the best tutors, sitting next to me during every session. Watching them struggle with the calculus problems, I always felt loved and secure.

The first time I left home for summer camp, they drove 200 miles, watched me walk into the gate, and stood outside, crying like two lost children.

I often thought the same thing: If Ben were alive, how happy our family of four would be.

But fate was cruel.

They couldnt accept Bens death, couldnt let go of the impossible expectation of their lost twin. I had become Bens shadow.

When Ben's remainsmy remainswere cremated, Mom held the weightless urn.

She looked at the nanny: Is Lottie asleep?

The nanny nodded softly: Just went down. The little boy

Mom raised a hand to cut her off.

Dont worry about the boy. Take care of Lottie. Shes cold-natured. Make sure she stays warm.

I looked up in surprise.

I drifted toward her, wanting to tell her I wasn't cold anymore. She was the one who was throwing caution to the wind, risking her health again.

But she didn't see me. She just held the urn, an expression of profound sorrow on her face.

Ben, don't blame your sister. She only wanted to live, too. Ill get healthy, and maybe maybe you can be my child again someday.

She gently stroked the small box. Her voice was soft and quiet.

Ben, Im sorry. I havent been able to let you go all these years. Your father and I did terrible things to your sister. This life, Ill spend three years with you, and then Ill be Lotties mother alone.

Dont resent me. I still cant forget the look in her eyes the night I kicked her out.

My heart is too small. I have to learn to let you go.

I sat next to her, powerless.

She refused to see the real, living child they had left in the nursery. She was consumed by her delusion, holding my ashes, mistaking me for the boy shed lost.

She didn't know we had no "afterwards." Her remorse and regret had no chance for repair.

I watched Mom walk into her room, pull out the pristine, unused christening blanket, and drape it over the urn. Then she sat at the sewing machine, beginning to stitch clothes for Bens second, third, fourthup to twenty-fourthbirthday.

Dad saw the light on. He frowned, gathering up the materials and putting them aside.

If not for Lottie, then for yourself. Youll collapse if you keep this up.

Mom offered a bitter smile and reclaimed her work.

Ben took half my life with him.

She looked at a small, recently finished shirt. She sighed.

Lottie always loved music. We didnt take it seriously back then. We finally got her a piano later. This time, we need to find her a teacher right away.

She's too soft. She always gave in to our demands. We need to teach her to be stronger, to have confidence.

Dad nodded, his eyes pained.

I'm having Lottie sent to Dads house for a few years. Ben is gone. Shes young. We dont want the the bad luck to follow her.

I heard that Elder Zhangs amulets are powerful. We should go get one for Lottie. And a guardian pendant. We were too busy grieving last time to get her the right things. This time, well let Dad compensate her. We can properly bond with her when shes three.

His eyes reflected a profound, deep pain. Twelve years later, and the grief was just as agonizing.

I used to be so foolish, throwing tantrums, screaming at them: Who am I? I'm Lottie! Why can't you just love me for me?

Each time, Mom would lock herself in her room and cry for three days straight. Dad would drink, nearly causing car accidents more than once.

But they never once said I was wrong.

I never argued again. All that mattered was that they loved me.

Dad and Mom left, taking my remains. They never once glanced at the living child.

I followed them on their travels. All those familiar tourist spots were places they had taken me in the first life. Only now, the photos they took were edited, transforming my face into the boy they dreamed of.

The family albums had two separate sections: one for me, and one for Ben.

I used to feel such fear. But my fear was for the person they missed, the person they were mourning.

Ben, the snow is so heavy here. Are you cold? I made you a new sweater; Ill burn it for you today.

Ben, this is the ocean. This is the aquariumlook, blue jellyfish! Your sister loved them.

Were traveling abroad. Are you scared? Dont worry. Mommy is here. If youre afraid, just hold on tight.

I hugged Mom's ghost in return. Thank you. I'm not scared anymore.

They traveled for three years.

When they returned home, Grandfather Arthur called.

If youre back, then leave those ridiculous girl clothes behind. Theyre piling up, and no one is going to wear them.

Mom was stunned: What do you mean, no one? I made those for Lottie.

Grandfather Arthur laughed, a harsh, humorless sound: Why would he wear a dress? You can be delusional, Caroline, but theres a limit!

Next, he texted them a picture of the boythe living twinand his medical report.

Seeing the gender and blood type, Moms eyes widened in horror.