Superhero Effects

12. TWO OF ME

He swallowed and then reached out, past the door.

I stayed still, watching his hand with my eyes as he grabbed my upper arm and squeezed as if confirming I was, indeed, standing before him.

"You're alive," he breathed with hopeful intonation.

I blinked. "What?"

I didn't get the chance to question the odd statement further because, without warning, he stepped fully past the threshold and grabbed me in a tight hug.

Over his shoulder, I made out the start of the living room—hardwood floors with a deep brown leather sectional packed with neutral-colored pillows. There were toy cars scattered on the floor, and one of those fake red capes was tossed carelessly beside them.

He released me with bewilderment and tears in his eyes. "I can't believe this. You're alive."

"Wh-why wouldn't I be alive? Wait. I'm confused. You're aware that your daughter had an identical twin?"

He let out a surprised laugh. "And you're intuitive. How did you find us?"

My brows came together unintentionally as I frowned. I wanted answers; he wanted answers. With all our questions, how were we going to get anywhere?

He laughed again, and I found I liked his laugh even though I was perplexed and irritated. It was a sound of pure joy. "Stubborn too, I see. Yes, I was aware your—birth mother," he said carefully, "was pregnant with twins but...but you," the small grin faded, "were still-born. I saw you with my own eyes. As blue and quiet as could be when you came out, it broke my heart... I don't understand how..."

I swallowed. "I'm alive," I finished for him quietly. That's why I wasn't on any of the records with the other Supers. That's why no one knew about me. I wasn't supposed to exist.

He grabbed my other arm in a comforting squeeze. "Tristan, right?" I nodded. "Please come in out of this cold. We can swap stories, and I think there are a few people here who would like to meet you."

"But," I said, resisting his gentle tug, "if you saw me yourself, how am I here right now? I was adopted when I was a baby, and the hospital files said I was extremely healthy, especially under birth conditions."

He paused, his brown eyes flickering. "So, you know that too...that Joss was—"

"On drugs," I said for him again with a nod. "Yeah."

My birth father took a slow, steady deep breath in. "I don't know, Tristan, but I have some pull with my job. I'm going to find out, okay? Please, come in. You're shivering."

He was right; I was shivering, but he just opened a whole new set of questions for me. I got revived, but who did the reviving? How did I get put up for adoption when my biological father would have wanted me?

The laughing little boy came up behind his dad and poked his head through the space between the door and his dad's legs. His laugh broke off, and his face went slack with surprise.

"Dad," my voice called from behind. "What's the holdup? I had to save two pancakes from burning, and Gerry ate half the chocolate chips in the bowl."

"Wucinda?" the little boy whispered, confused, stepping past his dad's legs as I backed away further.

It was at this time that Peggy chose to walk up behind me with a polite smile. "Hi," she said to Dennis as the little boy turned and looked back, squatting to see between the space of his father's legs, "I'm Tristan's friend, Peggy."

She came up behind him with a dirty whisk and an exasperated expression. It took her a second to register who she was seeing past her father and when she did, her eyes went slowly wide. Cooper was right; she had no scars. Her eyebrows were thinner than my own, probably from being tweezed. Her face was thinner, more angular, and her skin tanner than mine.