'A Game of Snap'
by Justine Jones
I’ve never thought of myself as like anyone else. I’m unique – aren’t you? I know the world wants to put us all in categories, but that’s just a matter of convenience, or maybe even laziness. So when my mother told me she’d met someone just like me, I didn’t enjoy hearing it.
‘You two are as alike as peas in a pod,’ she said, 'snap!'
‘Are you trying to tell me something?’ I asked, a deep fear suddenly gripping my gut.
She brought out a photo. I have to admit there was a passing resemblance, but that was all. My fear turned to relief - thank God, no long lost sister - and then instantly to disgust. She just has no bloody respect.
‘You know’ I said, gathering the strength for a low blow, ‘in some lights you look a lot like Auntie Ella.’
My mother put down the photo.
‘I didn’t know you ever met Ella.’
‘She used to hold my hand on the way to school. She used to comb my hair.’
Mum was crying. It felt good to hurt her a little. It felt like it was my turn.
‘People don’t come off a shelf, mum. Don’t say I’m like someone else. I’m like me. You’re like you. That’s why dad wanted you in the end, not Ella.’
She got the photo again and then the scissors. Snap! It fell in two. I smiled. Her tears were drying.