Mistaken Identity

Dad.

Dad? Be

The last rays of the sun streamed dark gold through the Palladian windows, burning long, glowing arches into the Oriental rug. The sitting room was spacious, with worn antique chairs and couches grouped around mahogany coffee tables. Oil landscapes hung on the plaster walls, and a portrait of a somber physician in three-piece suit and watchchain was illuminated by a dim brass fixture. The setting was a model of old-money elegance. Nobody would have guessed it was a mental hospital.

Her mother’s wheelchair had been positioned against one of the windows, apparently to view the front lawn, newly shorn. The wheelchair cast a distorted shadow, its handles elongated and its wheels elliptical. Her mother’s head made a rumpled silhouette above the plastic sling of the wheelchair. Be

Be

The sunlight streamed onto her mother’s face, but she didn’t blink. A tiny woman, her chin and cheekbones were delicate, framed by dense, wavy, gray hair. Pale, papery skin covered her soft jowls, and deep frown lines furrowed her forehead. Her eyes drooped a listless brown, her lids hooded with age. Her only strong feature was a hawkish nose that had always seemed feisty to Be

“Ma, you go

Nothing, not even the blink of an eye. Her mother had been this way for two weeks now. The doctors were tinkering with her dosages, but she wasn’t coming around.

“Ma, the sun bothering you? You want me to move you?”

Her mother suddenly slipped down in the wheelchair. A blue cotton blanket rode up her legs, exposing knobby ankles under the hem of a chenille bathrobe. Her spongy slippers fit poorly, curling up at the toe. Dark, spidery veins looked sketched in india ink against the translucent whiteness of her shin.

“Ma, here. Let me help you.” Be

No response, but her mother slipped down again, her knees flopping wide open. If she had been sentient she would have been mortified, and Be

“Ma, sit up straight. You gotta sit up. Can you sit up?” Be

Her mother’s expression remained unchanged.

“Was Hattie here to visit today? She told me she was. She said you had lunch together. You had some soup, right? Chicken noodle.” Be

But even that didn’t get a reaction. Her mother’s eyes rested on Be

Her mother blinked, then blinked again, and Be

Still, Be

The sunlight faded to the shade of tarnished brass and the room grew cold. Be

Her mother stirred, lifting her head with an effort that sent a guilty ripple through Be

“Great, Ma. That’s great. Now can you see me? Do you see me?”

Her mother’s eyes were open but unfocused. As far as Be

“Ma, I met a woman today who says she’s my twin sister. She says that I was a twin, that I am a twin. That’s crap, isn’t it? Of course it is.”

Her mother blinked so deliberately it was almost slow motion.

“I know it’s strange. Shocking, kind of.” Be

But she didn’t.

“If you don’t answer, I’m hauling out the heavy artillery. Don’t make me go there. I got pictures. Of my father, she says. You want to see?”

No reaction.

“You want not to see?”

Still no reaction.

“Okay, since you asked.” Be

“Ma, they’re tellin’ me this is Exhibit A. Is this my old man?” Be

Her mother’s head dropped onto her chest and she slid under the blue blanket, which engulfed her like a riptide. Be