Identity Crisis

Prompt: Jealous of... | Word count: 1250 words exactly | Due Date: Sept 9, 2020

 
I was always jealous of Jana. Beautiful, gregarious, spontaneous Jana. She could walk into a room and it was like a light turned on in the dark. She gloried in the attention. Sought it out like a moth to a flame. 
 
The boys always flirted with her, unable to take their eyes off her gorgeous face, her wide smile, her blue-green eyes. Even before she grew into her hourglass figure, they fought over her attention. They went out of their way to open doors for her, or carry her books to class. They called her on the phone and asked her out on dates. They took her to the skating rink or the school dances; and when we got older, to movies or the pool hall for a beer and some foos ball.
 
I never understood why I couldn’t attract the same kind of attention as she did. I look in the mirror and I see her face. The blue-green eyes, the wide smile, the blond hair. We share the same dimple, the same curvaceous body. I mean, we’re identical twins, for goodness sake.
 
But we’re as different as night and day.
 
My therapist has helped me to see that the difference is not a reflection of the outer image, but rather of what's on the inside. I don’t think of myself as the pretty girl I see in the mirror. That image belongs to Jana. Rather, I think of myself as a mouse, scuttling into dark corners and hiding in the walls, fearful of being seen, of being noticed. I struggle with the attention, with being mistaken for Jana.
 
It’s always been this way. When we were small, Daddy only had eyes for Jana. He’d come home from work and she’d run to meet him at the door, arms up-stretched. He’d grab her up in his strong arms and swing her around and around, laughing at her squeals of delight. He’d throw her on the couch and tickle her until she begged him to stop.
 
Me? I was always under the table, playing in my fort, or at the back of the kitchen stacking Tupperware. By the time Daddy was done playing with Jana, he was kissing Mom and asking for a beer. He never looked for me or asked after me, and by the time I climbed out of my fort, or put my toys or my books away, he’d be watching TV or reading the paper.
 
He made me feel like I was invisible. Like I didn’t even exist.
 
I tried talking with Jana about this, but she just scoffed at me, even though I insisted it was true.
 
“Of course it’s not true, Jennifer,” Jana said. “Tomorrow, when Daddy comes home, you run to meet him at the door. You'll see. He loves you as much as he loves me.”
 
But the next day, when Daddy came home, there I was, with my arms up-stretched. He picked me up, twirling me around and around until I got dizzy. “My pretty Jana,” he smiled into my eyes, and threw me on the couch, pressing kisses on my forehead and nose. I didn’t correct him, and he didn’t ask for Jennifer, never looked around to see where his other daughter was.
 
It was as if he had only one.
 
At least Mom knew there were two of us, but I knew she loved Jana best. She always asked Jana if she wanted to help her in the kitchen, always served her first, always asked about her day when we came home from school.
 
Always left me to fend for myself.
  Of course, it was my own fault, or so my therapist tells me. I could have met Daddy at the door alongside Jana, or asked Mom if I could help too. I could have spoken up and demanded attention. But I was too shy. I lacked the self confidence that would have allowed me to do those things.
 
They never took us out together. Whenever Mom went shopping, or had errands to run, she’d only take one of us. We never went out for meals, never went to the park. We had a swing set in the back yard, where I loved swinging with my sister, but I couldn’t tell you if we ever did this in public.
 
Why this was so, I never learned. My therapist likes to blame it on my Dad. He rarely acknowledged me, never came to any of my class functions. I don’t remember if he even came to my bedroom to kiss me goodnight, when I was young enough to want to be kissed goodnight.
 
We had separate bedrooms, so I don’t know if he ever kissed Jana goodnight either. Maybe he didn’t. I never asked.
 
Even in school they kept us apart. In grade school we had different teachers, in middle and high schools we had different classes, with different schedules. It was in high school that we started swapping places.
 
She would go to my social studies class and I would go to her history class. I had to pretend to be the class clown and she pretended to be a doormat. Jana thought it would be good for me, and I must admit, I did enjoy being her.
 
I just never learned to open up and let myself be gregarious and outspoken, though I had no problem with this when people thought I was Jana.
 
When Mom and Dad died in the car accident, two years after we graduated from high school, only Jana was named in their will. They left everything to her, the house, the stocks, the bank accounts. Even Dad’s 401k.
 
She promised to take care of me, and believe me, she has. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. It still does. It reinforces the idea that I don’t matter. Who cares that I exist?
 
Then Jana met Jonathan. They had a one night stand. She didn't plan to see him again, but then she discovered she was pregnant. I thought she should tell him. Didn’t he have a right to know he was going to be a father?
 
“Fine. But you tell him, Jenna. Pretend you’re me, like we used to do in school. Tell him you’re pregnant and see what he says.” We agreed not to tell him we’re twins, not to reveal the fact that there are two of us. 
 
I fell in love with Jonathan at first sight. He’s the tall, dark, handsome cliché; a wealthy, popular congressman. He said he was pleased to see me again, and we hit it off immediately, like two young lovers. My heart thrilled when he asked me to marry him.
 
And then it shattered, when I realized it wasn’t me he would marry.
 
Jana didn’t love him, but she married him anyway. They went to the Grand Caymans on honeymoon, leaving me behind in the childhood home that had been left to Jana.
 
A month later, Jana had a miscarriage and she left him. Jonathan was heartbroken, and I couldn’t bear to think of his unhappiness. I begged Jana to let me take her place, and she reluctantly agreed.
 
Jonathan lives with me now, in my childhood home, and “Jenna” went off to pursue a new career in computer forensics. 
 
Jonathan doesn’t even know she exists. She’s happy.  I’m happy. Happier than I’ve ever been before.
 
I was always jealous of Jana. But now, I no longer need to be.
 
Now, I am Jana.