Chapter 1

My very first memory is, at the age of about two, being bathed in the tub along with Jazzy by our mom. We had a variety of toys to play with, and we had been recently taught how to share them. Each time a toy was picked up, we immediately offered it to the other. Mom did her best to keep from laughing while she scrubbed us as Jasmine and I passed the same two toys back and forth to each other. While neither of us could put the lesson into words, we both understood that “What is mine is yours,” and we found happiness in sharing.

Our early childhood was very normal. We got along perfectly most of the time, with only minor squabbles here and there, as kids will do. However, by the time we were ready to start school, we never had disagreements over anything. Indeed, my sister was the most important person in my life, and we were inseparable.

At the age of five and in kindergarten, mom and dad seemed to be trying to get us to be more independent of each other. They would try to give us our own bath time but, inevitably, the one left out would join the other. We were still just kids and cared nothing about personal privacy. Seeing Jazzy naked was as normal as seeing sunshine--a daily occurrence. And I had no embarrassments about being seen the same way. Again, all perfectly normal.

For our sixth birthday, our parents made a new attempt at establishing our independence. What had once been a guest room was turned into a bedroom for Jasmine, complete with a new girly bed, sheets, and comforters as well as all new decorations, curtains; the works. Truly a young girls dream bedroom.

And they did the same for what had been our room by turning it into my room with a superhero theme. Both rooms looked great, but I could see Jazzy felt the same way I did: apprehensive at best.

The first night in our respective rooms did not go well. Even though I was technically still in the same room I’d always slept in, I could not have felt more out of place. Images of sleeping on a park bench in a deserted city filled my imagination. I was just about to go to Jasmine’s room when she crawled into bed with me, and I instantly felt better.

Mom and dad were both somewhat disappointed to find us together but not at all surprised. “Don’t worry, they’ll grow out of it,” I heard my dad tell mom.

Night after night, they would put us in our own beds, but Jasmine would never stay in hers. As soon as our parents went to bed, she would come back to my room and I was always waiting for her. Occasionally, she would fall asleep before mom and dad went to bed and I would go to her room instead where I would find her asleep but struggling. The moment I crawled in with her, she would become at ease and sleep soundly. We were truly inseparable.

Our bond was closer than that of any other siblings our age and possibly closer than most twins. Jasmine was easily my favorite person in the world. Sure, I loved my parents, too, but the feeling was just different with my sister. I would do anything for her. There were no secrets between us, and we had total confidence that a shared secret would not go any further. There was no need to ask the other to swear not to tell anyone else; that was simply understood, and the promise implied.