I looked down.
Then Hannah read another line.
“I hope someday you’ll understand that we were only afraid of what knowing might do to you.”
David’s eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t remember writing that.”
“Well, you did.”
She sat across from us.
Then she said something I had spent eighteen years being terrified I would never hear.
“I don’t feel guilty that I lived.”
I looked at her.
She was crying now.
“I feel sad that Rosie died.”
“So do we.”
“I feel strange knowing I had a twin and never knew.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I feel like I’m supposed to miss someone I never met.”
I reached across the table.
She let me take her hand.
Then she said,
“But I don’t feel guilty.”
My throat tightened.
“I’m angry that you decided I would.”
I nodded.
“We made assumptions.”
“You don’t get to decide what I can handle just because you’re afraid of how I’ll react.”
