*some names have been changed to protect the innocent, my daughter’s budding social life, and prevent future law suits.
Any remote fears of my twelve year old daughter developing low self-esteem dissolved the second she showed me pictures of this school year’s first crush.
Opening her laptop, Mali prepares me for the shock. “Brian (my husband/her stepfather) said we could be twins.” She presents me with her desk top wallpaper: a collage of this dude we’ll call Amadeus. And yes, he shockingly resembles the girl that came from my womb.
“How did you get pictures of him? Stalker.” Impressive. At her age, I had to resort to poorly rendered sketches and photocopies of yearbooks.
“Fate’s the stalker. She copied them from his Facebook.” Fate, her best friend, also thinks he’s hot. I’m unsure which bothers me more; the fact that my daughter has fallen in middle school love with him or the fact that her bff has done the same.
I don’t have a signed release from his parents allowing me to post pictures of him. Thankfully, that’s unnecessary. He looks just like her.
Same hair color, face shape, and complexion. Same puffy bangs covering the left eye. Same I’m better than you expression. He’s beautiful.
My amazement overflowed. “Mali, how did you manage to find someone that looks so much like you? It’s creepy.”
A grin spreads across her face. “Isn’t he hot?”
“We think highly of ourselves, don’t we?” My worries resurface. Does this make her a sociopath?
She informed me that not only are they the same height, they even have the same wardrobe. Identical Asking Alexandria t-shirts. The same Black Veil Brides shirt. He’s in the eight grade, rides her bus, eats his lunch at Table 5, and his locker number is 333. His blood type was unmentioned. Again, my mouth runs. “Stalker.”
“I’m not stalking him! He’s in my lunch and that’s how they make us line up. I heard Mr. Dukakis call out Amadeus Table 5 and I just had to turn around and look.”
Stare. She meant turn around and stare. “That’s nice dear, but how did you know his locker number?”
“Fate told me. She knows everything about him.” I wonder how that will hold up in a future court of law. For the next few years, exercising the Fifth Amendment will be strongly encouraged.
When she got the chance, she showed her grandmother her laptop wallpaper. At first, she thought she was looking at pictures of Mali.
“Grandmom, what do you think?”
“I think he’s pretty. You’re a very pretty girl.”
My wittingly motherly tongue added that she was born via c-section; that a blue drape prevented me from seeing her come out; that there may be a remote possibility that more than one baby was inside; that not only could they be related, they could actually be twins.
Was she horrified? Not exactly. She said, “I don’t care if he’s my brother! We’ll have albino babies!”
“So, when is his birthday?” I inquired.
“That–I do not know.”
“Never mind. I’m sure it’s September 11th…just like yours.”