Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Lie

I saw a question online:

What's it like to have a twin sibling who is a hundred times more accomplished than you?

I replied: Accepted my fate, made my peace with it.

I even posted an eight-year-old video of my sister and me practicing violin. Wed both had three lessons. My sister played Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star beautifully, clear and melodic. My rendition of "Chaconne from Partita No. 2, BWV 1004," however, sounded like a dull saw cutting through wood.

But the comments section exploded.

"Holy cow, OP, are you seriously not humble-bragging? Playing a piece as difficult as 'Chaconne from Partita No. 2, BWV 1004' that precisely after only three lessons?!"

"As a ten-year arts student, I swear if I had one percent of OP's talent, I'd be at Berkeley by now!"

I was stunned. Growing up, my mother had always been fair, fully supporting both my sister and me. Yet, no matter what I did, I always seemed to fail. It often made my mother secretly shed tears and sigh in disappointment. After a while, I couldnt bear to cause her worry or sadness, so I proactively gave up on every opportunity. I just focused on being the ordinary, dutiful child. How could someone like me possibly be a genius?

A new comment popped up, hitting me like a lightning bolt.

"OP, that violin of yours? It's barely worth a hundred bucks, looks like a cheap fire poker!"

"And your sister's violin? That's a five-thousand-dollar instrument."

I stared fixedly at the screen, my hands trembling as I searched for the prices of the two violins. It was exactly as the netizens had said. A cold sweat immediately broke out on my back. A tidal wave of immense shock and bewilderment crashed over me, leaving me breathless.

From outside, I heard my mother's joyous, excited voice. Dazed, I walked out to see her video-calling my sister. "Didn't you say you wanted to go skiing for the New Year? Mom bought you a new snowboard." Seeing me, she pointed her chin towards her feet. "One for each of you girls. This one's yours."

My feet felt as if they were nailed to the floor, unable to move an inch. Ever since I was little, my mother had always been like this. Whether it was academics or material possessions, my sister and I each had our own. I had always believed she was the fairest, best mother in the world. But today, my world had suddenly crumbled into ruins.

Seeing me standing there, pale-faced, my mother looked puzzled. "Why are you just standing there, spacing out?"

Before I could speak, my sister laughed. "Mom, don't you remember when my sister and I went skiing as kids, and she broke her leg and was in a cast for three months?" She giggled. "She probably has PTSD from seeing this. How could she be happy?"

My mother seemed to recall the memory, shaking her head with a resigned, bitter smile. "Yes, your sister has always been clumsy since childhood; she can't compare to you in anything she tries!"

I had heard that sentence for over a decade. I had grown accustomed to it, forcing myself to accept my fate and let it go. But now, countless questions were stuck in my throat, as if a hand had brutally choked me!

Clutching the snowboard, I fled back to my room, feeling utterly lost. The first thing I did was check the price! The result slapped me hard again. My sister's snowboard was a professional brand, costing a thousand dollars. Mine was a mere fifty dollars. Not even a fraction of my sister's.

My hands trembling, I posted a plea for help online. "Is this board okay for New Year's skiing?"

The comments quickly piled up.

"Oh my God, I urge you to throw that trash away as soon as possible!"

"That snowboard is dangerous. I bought a cheap one once, and it split in half while I was skiing. I almost broke my neck!"

My nails dug deeply into my palm. In my mind, I kept replaying scenes from that ski lesson when I was ten. My sister, though slow to start, glided steadily. I, however, wobbled constantly, falling again and again. Back then, I held onto a spark of determination. I wanted to prove to my mother. That as her daughter, I was no worse than my sister. But the harder I tried, the more brutally I fell. In the icy snow, I finally couldn't hold back my tears.

Everyone thought I was crying from the pain of my broken leg. Only I knew. I hated myself for being so utterly useless! Why couldn't I do anything right? Why couldn't I be like my sister, earning my mother's praise and becoming her pride?

But now, the whole world was telling me. It wasn't my clumsiness, it wasn't my fault. All of this was merely a result of my mother's profound selfishness hidden beneath a facade of fairness.

That night, I excused myself from dinner, claiming to feel unwell. I burrowed deep under my covers, tears streaming uncontrollably, again and again, until my skin felt tight and painful. I didn't know how to face the deep-seated resentment in my heart. Nor how to expose this cruel truth.

For several nights, I couldn't sleep. In my anxious torment, my sister finally came home. Relatives gathered around her, showering her with affection and concern.

"University in New York is great, but it's so far! Your mom can't stop talking about how much she misses you!" My mother, serving fruit, smiled at this, then sighed. "As long as the children are ambitious and successful, I fully support both of them flying far away." She paused, then added, "It's a shame, though. We enrolled both of them in a summer camp in New York when they were in elementary school. Chloe got perfect scores in every subject, but Lillian could only manage barely passing grades!"

My fingers, gripping the wall, tightened fiercely. The relatives burst into laughter at her words.

"Oh, it's fine to be a little less academic, dear. It's nice to have her around, steady and close."

"I still remember back then, Lillian was so stressed about her grades that she got sick in New York, throwing up and running a high fever. You were almost scared to death!"

The atmosphere in the living room remained warm and jovial.

"Chloe, I heard you won another violin competition?"

"Haha, play something for us!"

My sister smiled confidently, rising gracefully. "Of course, I'll play 'Chaconne from Partita No. 2, BWV 1004' then." The melodious violin notes filled the air. Everyone smiled, full of praise. My mother's gaze remained fixed on my sister, her eyes openly expressing admiration and satisfaction. It was as if she were looking at the most dazzling jewel in the world, the most beautiful flower among the mountains.

All of this caused my tightly strung nerves to suddenly snap. Amidst everyone's startled gasps, I lunged forward. I snatched the violin from my sister's hands and, like a madwoman, smashed it against the wall. My sister shrieked in terror at the sudden turn of events. My mother's face instantly twisted, and she rose abruptly.

"Lillian Miller, what on earth are you doing?!"

A stinging slap caught me off guard across my face. After it landed, the air hung still for a few seconds. Even my mother herself was momentarily stunned. But only for an instant, then she stiffened her neck again. "Who are you glaring at with that dark face? What did anyone say that was wrong?" she snapped. "You are clumsier and dumber than Chloe, that's a fact!" Her voice rose, dripping with contempt. "To be so jealous of your own sister, I didn't realize you were so narrow-minded and petty!"

Seeing her temper flare, many people discreetly gestured at me.

"Yes, Lillian, for all these years, your mother has cultivated both you and your sister with equal care! We've all seen it; no one can find a single fault!"

"It's okay to be a little less capable, but if your personality and temper are also so terrible, that's truly inexcusable!"

The chorus of accusations felt like ropes tightening around my heart. I couldn't bear it any longer. I rushed back to my room and pulled out several items.

"Open your eyes and look closely!" I demanded. "Has my mother truly been fair to my sister and me?"

I forcefully shoved the hundred-dollar violin into my sister's hands. "If you're so talented, play 'Chaconne from Partita No. 2, BWV 1004' again with this!"

My mother's face immediately changed. A flash of panic and guilt crossed her eyes. She lunged forward, trying to snatch the violin, clearly wanting to smash it to destroy the evidence. "Lillian Miller, stop being so unreasonable!"

At that moment, my disappointment and pain reached their peak. "My mother bought me this trashy violin, but bought my sister a five-thousand-dollar premium one!" I yelled. "She made me, with perfect pitch, sound like I was making horrible noise. And when you made my sister and me go skiing, you bought me all this garbage gear, which resulted in me breaking my leg and nearly being permanently disabled!"

After hearing my accusations, everyone was stunned, looking from me to my mother in unison.

"Eleanor, is what Lillian saying true?"

"This isn't right, how can you treat your children so differently!"

My mother glared fiercely at me. Then she turned, went back to her room, and returned with a stack of receipts. "So, you resent me just because I chose a slightly cheaper violin for you?" she spat. "Then why don't you mention that when we signed up for that summer camp, your sister's class was only three hundred dollars, but yours was five thousand!"

Aunt Clara immediately snatched the receipts, scrutinizing them carefully. "Eleanor isn't lying." She turned to me. "Lillian, this is you being unreasonable! Your mother is famously fair and unbiased. We all know that. You can't accuse her like this over a small matter and break your mother's heart!"

I nearly screamed in frustration. "But I didn't even need that expensive summer camp!"

The class my mother enrolled my sister in was a foundational one, tailored to her aptitude. That's why she steadily improved, getting perfect scores every time. I, however, was put into an advanced calculus class. I couldn't keep up even if I starved myself and didn't sleep! Not only that, but I was constantly discouraged, feeling as stupid as a pig. After that, whenever my mother wanted to enroll me in any tutoring, that nightmarish experience would make me tremble, and I would refuse to participate again.