Seb’s pattern of tattooing his victims, of linking them forever to himself, was likely a form of possession, when everyone he’d loved had been taken from him. The Gemini symbol, chosen as his crest, would have alluded to his belief that twins were the key to scientific advancement. The act of tattooing his victims paid homage to his hero, Molinare.

Valentin pauses a phone call as Chang and I pass his glass-walled office. The measured nod he gives me is softened with a smile before he barks into the receiver in English, “I don’t care if she is in a meeting, get me the American ambassador now!”

Steps from the main glass doors, fear and anticipation mingle in my chest, so close to freedom and all that it symbolizes—a new start despite recent weeks, months, years of self-destructive action. A new chapter, with Angela once I land stateside, on a more even plane and celebrating our duality, ignoring society’s fascination with singular labels—the emotive twin, the angry twin. I’ve been waiting so long for someone to say it’s okay to move forward—waiting to tell Angela about our parents’ deaths in person and for her to forgive me, always seeking external validation, instead of forgiving myself—that I missed the option. As Chang said, I can take care of myself—it’s okay to. Setting healthy boundaries and expectations is okay.

I slide inside the back seat of a black car commissioned by Chang, then watch as representatives of the press trail our path until we turn a corner out of sight. The route to the hotel room Chang booked is short, but it is filled with the only peace I’ve known since landing in Paris. Clear blue fills the sky when I exit the car. I stare straight up until my eyes burn. The crash of waves resonates in my eardrums, and this time, for the first time in years, the fear that always spooled through my core at the memory is silent.

Shouts in French rise from the hotel lobby as reporters stream out: Miss Darby! Le Monde News would like a quote from you! Would you care to comment? What can you tell the world? Frenzied voices blur the rest, but I already know what I’ll reply. When I raise my face to the slanted afternoon light and the rows of media eager for a glimpse of my unwashed hair and streaked cheeks, my comment is simple: “Twin for the win.”

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments

I distinctly recall when I first saw mixed-race couples and their children presented on camera, in television commercials. I was in college, in the mid-2000s. I’d long ago accepted that standardized testing would never allow me to accurately describe my ethnicity by checking more than one bubble on the Scantron, so I was at once shocked and thrilled. Pretty great to be writing about them today.