Off The Record
I Raised My Twin Boys Alone, But At 16 They Returned From College And Cut Me Out Of Their Lives
Rachel’s sacrifices are called into question when her twin sons claim they never want to see her again when they return home from college. However, the reality of their father’s unexpected return pushes Rachel to choose between defending her history and standing up for her family’s future.
The first emotion I had after becoming pregnant at the age of 17 was not dread. It was dishonourable.
I was already learning how to reduce myself, so it wasn’t due of the infants; I loved them before I even knew their names.
I was learning how to hide my belly behind food trays and how to occupy less area in classrooms and halls. While the females around me shopped for prom dresses and kissed boys with clear skin and no plans, I was learning how to smile while my body altered.
During third period, I was learning how to keep saltine crackers down while they blogged about homecoming. I was watching my ankles grow and wondering if I would still graduate while they were anxious about college applications.
It was all latex gloves, WIC forms, and ultrasounds in dark exam rooms with the volume turned down low; my world wasn’t full of fairy lights and formal dances.
Evan had declared his love for me.
A varsity starter with flawless teeth and a smile that let teachers overlook his late assignments, he was the quintessential golden kid. In between classes, he would kiss my neck and declare that we were soulmates.
We were parked behind the old movie theatre when I announced my pregnancy to him. His eyes widened, then began to well up with tears. He grinned, drew me in, and inhaled the scent of my hair.
“We’ll figure it out, Rachel,” he said. “I love you. And now… we’re our own family. I’ll be there every step of the way.”
However, he had vanished by the following morning.
No letter, no phone call… and when I arrived at his place, there was no response. Evan’s mother was the sole person in the doorway, her lips pinched together and her arms folded.
Flatly, “He’s not here, Rachel,” she said. “Sorry.”
I recall gazing at the vehicle sitting in the driveway.
“Is he… coming back?”
She answered, “He’s gone to stay with family out west,” and shut the door without waiting for me to enquire where or for a phone number.
Evan blocked me on all platforms as well.
When I realised I would never hear from him again, I was still in disbelief.
But I saw them there, in the ultrasound room’s dark glow. Like they were holding hands, there were two tiny heartbeats. And I had a sudden realisation that I would show there even if no one else did. I was forced to.
When my parents learnt I was expecting, they weren’t happy. When I informed them I was expecting twins, they were even more embarrassed. However, my mother sobbed upon seeing the sonogram and vowed to support me unconditionally.
The boys were perfect, warm, and sobbing when they were born. Liam came after Noah, or perhaps it was the other way around. I was too exhausted to recall.
However, I do recall Liam’s little fists clenched, as if he had been born prepared to fight. Noah, who was considerably more reserved, was blinking up at me as if he already understood the cosmos.
Bottles, fevers, and lullabies uttered through cracked lips at midnight characterised the early years. I committed the precise moment the sun touched our living room floor and the squeak of the pram wheels to memory.
On certain nights, I would cry from tiredness while eating spoonfuls of peanut butter on stale bread while sitting on the kitchen floor. Not because I had the time, but because store-bought birthday cakes made me want to give up, I cooked so many birthday cakes from scratch that I lost track.
They expanded in spurts. They were laughing while watching Sesame Street reruns one day while wearing pyjamas. The next day, they were fighting over who got to bring the groceries in from the car first.
When Liam was around eight years old, he once said, “Mom, why don’t you eat the big piece of chicken?”
“Because I want you to grow up taller than me,” I said to him, grinning as I ate vegetables and rice.
“I already am,” he smiled happily.
Noah said, “By half an inch,” while rolling his eyes.
They had been different all along. Liam was the spark; he was quick-witted, unyielding, and always willing to question the rules. Noah was my reflection; he was calm, collected, and a quiet force that kept everything together.
Pancakes on exam days, Friday movie nights, and always giving each other a hug before leaving the house—even when they feigned it embarrassed them—were all part of our traditions.
After orientation, I sat in the parking lot and sobbed till I lost my vision as they announced the dual-enrollment program, a state initiative that allows juniors in high school to obtain college credits.
We had succeeded. After all of the difficulties and late nights… with each extra shift and missed supper.
We had succeeded.
That is, until Tuesday, when everything fell apart.
It was one of those stormy afternoons when the sky is heavy and low and the wind smacks against the windows as if trying to get inside.
I was soaking through my coat and my socks were squelching in my server’s shoes after working a double shift at the diner. Your bones hurt because of the chilly moisture. Thinking only of hot tea and dry clothes, I kicked the door shut behind me.
Silence was the last thing I anticipated.
Not the beep of the microwave warming something Liam had forgotten to eat earlier, or the typical gentle hum of music from Noah’s room. Nothing except deep, weird, and eerie quiet.
They were seated next to each other on the couch. Even so. Their hands were in their laps as if they were getting ready for a funeral, and their bodies were tight, their shoulders square.
“Noah? Liam? What’s wrong?”
In the calm house, my voice sounded too loud. I stepped forward cautiously, dropping my keys on the table.
“What’s going on? Did something happen at the program? Are you —?”
Liam interrupted me with a voice I could hardly identify as that of my own son. “Mom, we need to talk,” he said.
Something in my stomach twisted when he uttered that.
Liam didn’t raise his head. His jaw was set in that position he gets when he’s angry but tries not to show it, and his arms were folded tightly across his chest. Noah sat next to him, his fists gripped, his fingers so tightly intertwined that I questioned whether he could still feel them.
I took a seat across from them in the armchair. My outfit was uncomfortable and wet as it stuck to me.
As I said, “Okay, boys,” “I’m listening.”
“We have to move out… we’re done here,” Liam said, inhaling deeply. “We can’t see you anymore, Mom.”
Before I could stop myself, my voice broke, “What are you talking about?” “Is this… is this some kind of joke? Are you guys recording some prank? I swear to God, boys, I’m too tired for these stunts.”
“Mom, we met our dad. We met Evan,” Noah said, softly shaking his head.
The name sent shivers down my spine.
Noah explained, “He’s the director of our program,”
“The director? Keep talking.”
“He found us after orientation,” Liam continued. “He saw our last name, and then he said he looked into our files. He asked to meet us privately, said he’d known you… and that he’d been waiting for a chance to be part of our lives.”
I looked at my sons as if they were strangers and said, “And you believe that man?”
Liam stated, “He told us that you kept us away from him, Mom,” close to his chest. “That he tried to be around and help you, but you chose to shut him out.”
Whispering, “That’s not true at all, boys,” “I was 17. I told Evan that I was pregnant, and he promised me the world. But the next morning, he was gone. Just like that. Without a call or text or anything. He was gone.”
Liam replied quickly, “Stop,” and got to his feet. “You’re saying he lied, sure. But how do we know you’re not the one who’s lying?”
I winced. Hearing that my own boys have doubts about me devastated me. I had no idea what Evan had said them, but it must have been persuasive enough for them to believe I was lying.
Noah seemed to read my thoughts.
“Mom, he said unless you go to his office soon and agree to what he wants, he’ll get us expelled. He’ll ruin our chances at college. He said it’s all good and well to be a part of these programs, but the real deal will come when we get accepted full-time.”
“And… what… what exactly does he want, boys?”
“He wants to play happy family. He said you took away 16 years of knowing us,” stated Liam. “And he’s trying to get appointed to some state education board. He thinks that if you agree to pretend to be his wife, we’ll all win something from this. There’s a banquet that he wants us to attend.”
I was unable to talk. I simply sat there with 16 years of life weighing heavily on my chest. It felt as though someone had punched you in the chest. not only for its ridiculousness but also for its blatant brutality.
I glanced at my sons, their shoulders heaving with treachery and fear, their eyes so guarded. I inhaled deeply, held it, and then exhaled.
“Boys,” I replied. “Look at me.”
Both of them did. hesitant and optimistic.
“I would burn the entire education board to the ground before I let that man own us. Do you really think I’d have kept your father away from you on purpose? HE left us. I didn’t leave him. He chose this, not me.”
Slowly, Liam blinked. A glimpse of the youngster who used to curl up next to me with bruised knees and a beating heart appeared behind his eyes.
“Mom,” he said in a whisper. “Then what do we do?”
“We’ll agree to his terms, boys. And then we’ll expose him when the pretence matters the most.”
I took on an additional shift at the diner on the morning of the banquet. I had to keep going. I would spiral if I sat for too long.
Sitting in the corner booth, the lads had their homework spread out between them. Liam was scrawling over his notepad like he was racing someone, while Noah had his earplugs in. I smiled tightly at them both and topped off their orange juices.
I murmured softly, “You don’t have to stay here, you know,”
Noah said, “We want to, Mom,” and pulled out an earpiece. “We said we’d meet him here anyway, remember?”
Yes, I did recall. All I wanted to do was not.
The bell above the door began to jingle a few minutes later. With a polished shoe, a luxury coat, and a smile that made my stomach spin, Evan entered the room like he owned it.
Like he was supposed to, he slid into the booth across from the boys. For a while, I watched from behind the counter. Noah refused to glance at Liam as his body tensed.
Holding the coffee pot like a shield, I approached.
Evan said, “I didn’t order that rubbish, Rachel,” without even looking at me.
The answer was, “You didn’t have to,” “You’re not here for coffee. You’re here to make a deal with me and my sons.”
He laughed as he reached for a package of sugar and said, “You always did have a sharp… tongue, Rachel,”
I disregarded the jab.
“We’ll do it. The banquet. The photo ops. Whatever. But make no mistake, Evan. I’m doing this for my sons. Not you.”
“Of course you are,” responded he. His haughty, unfathomable gaze met mine.
Peeling a five-dollar bill from his wallet as if he were doing us a favour, he got up and took a chocolate chip muffin from the display case.
He grinned and added, “See you tonight, family,” before leaving. “Wear something nice.”
Noah muttered, “He’s loving this,” and let out a slow breath.
Liam scowled as he looked at me and said, “He thinks he’s already won.”
“Let him think it,” I replied. “He’s got another thing coming.”
We went together to the banquet that night. I had on a form-fitting navy outfit. Liam repositioned his handcuffs. Noah purposefully wore his tie crooked. Evan smiled as if he had just cashed a cheque when he saw us.
“Smile,” he said, bending closer. “Let’s make it look real.”
I did flash my teeth in a broad smile.
A bit later, to roaring cheers, Evan entered the stage. Like a man who has already won an award, he waved to the audience. Even when he didn’t deserve it, Evan always enjoyed being in the spotlight.
“Good evening,” he said, his watch’s face illuminated by the lights. “Tonight, I dedicate this celebration to my greatest achievement — my sons, Liam and Noah.”
The audience erupted in courteous applause before a few camera flashes took over.
He turned to face me as though he were giving me a priceless present. “And their remarkable mother, of course,” he said. “She’s been my biggest supporter through everything I’ve ever done.”
My throat stung with the lie.
He continued by discussing tenacity and atonement, the value of second chances, and the tenacity of family. He talked as if he thought it was true. Evan’s speech looked to have been crafted by someone who knew exactly what to say and had no idea what any of it truly meant. He was polished and endearing.
Then he held out a hand to the crowd.
“Boys, come up here. Let’s show everyone what a real family looks like.”
Noah’s eyes searched me as he peered at me. I nodded slightly to him.
My sons got up together, straightened their jackets, and walked to the stage together. They were tall, self-assured, and everything I could have ever imagined them to be. It undoubtedly looked flawless from the audience.
A proud father with his attractive sons.
Grinning for the camera, Evan put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. Liam then moved ahead.
“I want to thank the person who raised us,” stated the man.
Leaning closer, Evan’s smile widened.
“And that person is not this man,” Liam went on. “Not at all.”
Through the quiet, gasps erupted like thunder.
“He abandoned our mother when she was 17. He left her to raise two babies alone. He never called. He never showed up. In fact, he only found us last week, and he threatened us. He told us that if our mother didn’t go along with this little performance, he’d destroy our future.”
“That’s enough, boy!” Evan tried to break the silence.
However, Noah moved to stand next to his brother.
“Our mum is the reason we’re standing here. She worked three jobs. She showed up every single day. And she deserves all the recognition. Not him.”
A standing ovation broke out in the room. Parents muttered, cameras flashed, and a teaching member rushed out with her phone close to her ear.
Someone said, “You threatened your own kids?”
“Get off the stage!” exclaimed a another voice.
We left before dessert.
But by morning, an official investigation had been launched, and Evan had been sacked. For all the wrong reasons, Evan’s name made headlines.
I woke up on Sunday to the aroma of bacon and pancakes.
Liam was singing something to himself as he stood by the stove. Noah was peeling oranges while seated at the table.
Liam said, “Morning, Mom,” while flipping a pancake. “We made breakfast.”
I grinned as I leaned in the doorway.
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