Work Text:
Claire Murphy had always known she had a dead twin sister.
Cassandra Elizabeth Murphy had died at 3 months old, cause of death officially categorized as SIDS, or Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. The only thing their mother ever said about it to her was that Cass was found glassy-eyed and breathless, laying in her crib inside the twins’ rosy colored room, a husk of the once vibrant and bright infant she was. Obviously Claire had no memories of her sister whatsoever, just the knowledge of her existence. The loss of one of their twin daughters had torn Ralph and Elsie Murphy apart, as it so often does, ending in an ugly divorce and full physical custody of the mother for little Claire.
Claire and her mom had to move into a tiny apartment in the nearly-abandoned industrial sector of Harrisburg, PA, the complete opposite of the neat and inviting yellow row house they resided in as a family before. Claire was never allowed outside after dark and was forced to deal with the concrete forests and rusting metal monstrosities as objects to view on her walks.
She was going on 13 now, almost old enough to get a cell phone, according to her mom. Life was mediocre, she didn’t have any major complaints, but no major joys either. School was always easy for Claire, especially math. She couldn’t quite do every problem in her head, but just about. The kids in her honors class picked on her because of that. When Claire came home and told her mom about it, she just told her daughter the requisite, “They’re just jealous.” She didn’t really have any good friends, just ones she hung out with at school, but never in her free time. Claire was okay with that, or so she told herself. My life has been pretty good so far, she always thought. If I start wanting more now something bad will happen. She often wondered what life would have been like if her twin didn’t die. Would she be more popular? Would her sister? Would that even matter, because they had each other? So many questions. Of course, there was the obvious, sorely unanswerable one: Why not me? They shared the same DNA, the same physical traits. Personalities hadn’t developed yet. There was no satisfying reason why Cass died instead of Claire, except for the truth: chance.
Then there was the matter of Claire’s father. He lived in their old family home with his young new wife and their baby son. Claire visited during the holidays and about 2 weeks during the summer, if her mom was feeling extra generous. That was no wonderland either. Claire had to share a bedroom with her stepmom’s office, while the infant Elijah got his own bedroom and playroom. It was like she didn’t exist, which was kind of fair, considering how little she saw them. But still. And she thought they were kind of odd.
First of all, the new wife, Sydney Brink, had given Claire’s dad her last name instead of the other way around. It was like he was desperate to eradicate every last trace of his previous life. Wasn’t it strange, then, that he had kept the house? Maybe it hadn’t mattered that much to him then, pushing Claire and her mom out was the highest priority, after all. Claire possessed no other family besides her mom and dad. No grandparents had ever been spoken of, but Elsie Murphy did have a picture of a smiling young 20-something her and an older woman with faded red hair and glasses at the Statue of Liberty. Sometimes, late at night, she would sit and cry with the photograph, thinking about all that had been taken from her.
Moving. The word may seem daunting to a lot of people, children especially, but for Claire, it struck nothing more than a chord of ambivalence within her. Her mother had broken the news after the quality of dinners and amount of water and television usage allowed had declined over the course of about 3 months. Elsie worked at the local humane society, a job that meant she and her daughter weren’t exactly drowning in money. But she was abruptly let go after about 6 years of service, she told her Claire one afternoon after she got home from school.
“We’ve both always hated this apartment anyway, haven’t we?”
Claire just shrugged. “It’s kind of just the place I live in, not really a home, but I don’t despise it either.”
“Well…alright. We aren’t leaving tomorrow or anything, I’ve got to find a place first. And don’t tell your father.”
That was one of Elsie’s signature phrases, Claire supposed her mother still thought that Caleb Brink continued to care about what went on in either of their lives or household situation. She was pretty sure her dad wouldn’t do much if he saw them holding cardboard signs on the highway. She could see his response now. “Sorry, left my wallet at home” as he was driving to the liquor store.