On her good days, she told Sage she heard voices that said terrible things, and she always apologized for scaring her. While they watched The Beverly Hillbillies and counted their mother’s green stamps, she made Sage promise to remember the stories she told her, and Sage promised to protect her if she could. Their mother said Rosemary was confused and Sage should come to her whenever she did anything odd, but Sage never wanted to tattle. Sometimes Sage felt like her sister’s problems were her fault, as if she’d done something to harm her before they were born—taken too much nourishment, taken too much blood, taken too much room inside their mother’s womb. After all, Sage had weighed two full pounds more than Rosemary at birth and had fought her way into the world thirty-five minutes sooner. Sometimes it felt like their mother blamed Sage too, making her promise to be extra nice to Rosemary, extra understanding, until they could figure out what was wrong.
But now Sage knew the truth. Her mother had thrown Rosemary away like garbage. Maybe that was why she’d started drinking more. Maybe it was guilt that had killed her.
Sage clenched her jaw. She didn’t want to cry in front of Alan any more than she already had—didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. “You should have told me the truth,” she said.
“It wasn’t my decision to keep it from you, so don’t go blaming me. Your mother didn’t want you blabbin’ it all over town. The doctors said Rosemary would never get better, and you know how people are when they find out you got a retard in the family. Your mother wouldn’t have been able to show her face anywhere without people whispering behind her back.”
“So she let everyone think Rosemary was dead. Including me.”
“You should be grateful. We tried to spare you.”
“Spare me? Telling me my twin sister was dead wasn’t sparing me.”
“Oh, quit the ‘poor me’ act. You know how your sister could get. The doctors said she’s a schizo, among other things. She was never going to be okay, no matter how much you and your mother wanted her to be. Putting her away was the best thing we could do for her. She was getting worse and we couldn’t handle her. The people at Willowbrook know how to take care of retards like her.”
Hatred welled up inside of her, burning through her chest and up to her ears, making her head throb like it was on fire. How dare he act like he cared! How dare he think he knew what was best for her sister! “If they know how to take care of Rosemary at Willowbrook, why is she missing?”
“How the hell should I know?”
A million thoughts and questions churned like a tornado inside Sage’s mind, making her dizzy. For the past six years she’d sensed the lingering ghosts of Rosemary that remained in every corner of the apartment. Her favorite Barbie with the short red hair and crocheted vest. The smell of the lavender lotion she loved to use on her skin. The bottles of meds collecting dust on her dresser. How was she supposed to process the fact that her twin sister was alive? That she had been locked up in Willowbrook all this time?
And who else knew the truth?
“Did you tell our father you sent my sister away?” she said.
Alan looked at her like she had three heads. “What makes you think he’d give a shit?”
“We’re still his daughters.”
“Is that right?” Alan said. “You could have fooled me.” He yanked a cigarette out of the pack on the coffee table, lit it, and took a long drag, then jabbed the air with one hand, the cigarette between his fingers. “Is your father the one putting a roof over your head? Is he the one paying for your clothes and food?”
She dropped her eyes, disgust blazing like a firestorm inside her. They’d had this argument a hundred times, and it was one she’d never win. Her father was the bad guy and always would be. Even if he had been sending money all these years, her mother and Alan never would have admitted it. And that extra cash was probably the only reason Alan kept her around.
“Did you ever visit her?” she said. “Did you and Mom go see her at Willowbrook?”
Alan picked up a beer from the coffee table, took a long swig, then nodded. “Once.”
“Once?” She gaped at him. “You only went once?”
“Your mother couldn’t handle it, seeing her kid like that. And your sister didn’t even know we were there. She was, like, in a coma or something. Had her eyes wide open, just staring. She had no idea what was going on.”
“Oh my God. Didn’t Mom want to check on her? Didn’t she want to make sure she was okay? Rosemary had to be so scared and confused!”
Alan slammed the beer bottle down on the coffee table, his face red with anger. “Now you listen to me! Your mother did the best she could. None of that was her fault, so don’t you go blaming her for anything.”
Sage glared at him, not sure if she was going to scream or throw up. Her sister was alive and had been locked in an institution for six years. And her mother had only gone back to see her once. Once. Rosemary must have been heartbroken and terrified, wondering what she’d done to deserve such horrible treatment. She probably wondered where Sage was too, why her beloved twin hadn’t come to see her, why she hadn’t rescued her or even sent a letter or a card. Rage boiled inside Sage’s chest. “I would have visited her,” she said. “If you had told me the truth.”
He shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you. Like I said, it wasn’t up to me.”
“You could have told me after Mom died.”
“Why? What good would it have done?”
“I could have gone to see her! I could have told her I loved her. I could have tried to help her get better.”
Alan rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. It wasn’t that easy. Every visit had to be scheduled a frigging month in advance, and most of the time they’d end up canceling it for one reason or another. Always saying it was ‘for the good of the patient.’”
“So you did try to visit her more than once?”
“A few times, yeah. But like I said, it was too much for your mother.”
“What about her room? You know how she used to get up and walk around in the middle of the night. Did you make sure it was comfortable and safe?”
He shook his head. “They wouldn’t let us in her room. They brought her out to the lobby to see us. And the place smelled like shit.”
Tears filled Sage’s eyes. Poor Rosemary. “Are you going to Willowbrook to find out what happened to her?”
“No, there’s nothing we can do. She won’t remember me anyway. They said they’ll call as soon as they find her.”
“But we could help with the search,” Sage said. “We could help look for her.”
“I can’t. I gotta work.”
“You can call in.”
“I said I can’t,” he said. “And the doc on the phone said it’s best to let the professionals handle it anyway.”
She could see the anger building up inside him again, in the way his nostrils flared, in the way his jaw tensed. She didn’t care. “Yeah, right,” she sneered. “God forbid you can’t play cards and drink with your buddies on your lunch break. God forbid you care about anyone but yourself.”