by Carol Levy

Created on: June 15, 2007

I had 3 half-siblings; 2 sisters and a brother.

They never really treated me as a sister. I found out part of the reason when I was about 12.

One parent had hit me and the other kicked me in the shin while I was still on the ground. "Get up!"

As soon as they walked out the door I said to my sister Barbara* "If they got divorced, I wouldn't want to go with either of them." She became very upset. "Don't say that!"

Of course I did. Same response. The third time she said "You come up to the attic."

I followed her up the stairs. Once inside she walked a few steps. She reached into a box and pulled out a book.

"This is why." she said as she handed me three pieces of paper.

They were birth certificates for the three of them. None had the same last name as I.

"What, what is this?"

"Mom was already divorced. This is our father's last name. Daddy is only your 'real' father. So don't ever say that again about divorce. Our father was awful. You don't know how good you have it."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"We were all told that you were never to know. Aunt Martha* is not your real aunt. She is our aunt."

My mind reeled with the knowledge.

Once out of the attic nothing changed.

We were never close. When I think about it they never gave me birthday gifts or made an effort to acknowledge achievements of mine.

It was very strange.

It is said that almost all children think, at one time or another, they had to have been adopted; but I never felt that way. I always felt that there was something about the other three that let my father treat me so poorly and angrily. 'Maybe there is something different about the others. Maybe they were adopted or something.'

We lived in the same house until each went to college/got married. I double-dated with Barbara and hung out with her and her friends when I was about 16 and she 20. I babysat for the other, Jennifer*, sometimes staying overnight, making Christmas and Easter with her for the kids. With the third one I was friendlier with his wife. She and I discussed books and enjoyed each other.

I attempted suicide the summer before college. That should have been my awakening for how they felt about me.

It was a serious attempt. Not one ever said "We're glad you didn't die".

When I went to college, John* and I had virtually no contact.
I still babysat often for the one sister and sporadically for the other.

Then I graduated. And was able to do what I always wanted to do.

I auditioned for a dinner theater. I was hired for the chorus in one show and later a character

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