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Sabrina and Suzy Richards head toward a new school day at Hartwood Elementary in Stafford County.
Suzy (left) and Sabrina sit with classmates and parents at Hartwood Elementary after receiving their awards for making the Honor Roll.
Identical twins Sabrina (left) and Suzy Richards of Stafford County tumble onto the couch like a human pretzel, playing and teasing each other before it's time to have dinner with their family. The 11-year-old fashion plates, who have two older sisters, make up dances together and invent new words.
Sabrina (left) and Suzy Richards sit in the kitchen to work on their homework. Though the two are Sabrina (left) and Suzy raise their hands to answer a question during an after-school drama club meeting. |
By KRISTIN DAVIS
Two pairs of blue eyes peer around a sitting room door that is open just a crack.
Susan Richards spots her two youngest daughters, who had slipped out of sight when the doorbell rang moments before.
Suzy and Sabrina stand so close their strawberry blond curls seem to flow into each other's.
The girls laugh. They've been found.
"So you're being shy," Susan says.
The girls correct her as they step into the kitchen smiling identical smiles. They're not shy. They're playing a game.
Besides, it's easy to feel relaxed and confident with your twin by your side. A twin takes the pressure off. A twin talks when you don't feel like it, takes up for you, shoulders your burdens.
It's just after 4 p.m. and Suzy and Sabrina are home from Hartwood Elementary in Stafford County, where they are fifth-graders.
They're still in their school clothes--Sabrina's wearing jeans and a black blazer with red shoes and gold hoop earrings. Suzy is also in jeans, with a paisley-print, gauzy blue shirt.
When the girls were babies, Susan dressed them alike because it was easier to buy in pairs. Once they started picking out their own clothes, the duplicates stopped. It had nothing to do with dissimilar tastes and everything to do with math.
"It doubles the amount," Suzy says.
Sabrina goes through a series of commands with their dog, Scooter, in the middle of the kitchen floor. She's the sister who wants to be a veterinarian.
Suzy stands over the stove, stirring noodles her mother started for dinner. She is the quieter twin, and listens when Sabrina starts conversations with strangers.
Identical twins Sabrina and Suzy Richards are more alike than different, their mother says, and closer than any two people she's ever known.
"Sometimes," Suzy says, "we think the same things. We guess what the other is thinking."
That's the way of twins, says Cathy Thomas of King George County. She has an identical twin, Debby Carter. They are 47.
In 1958, a doctor mistook them for one baby because their hearts beat in unison.
"You think of [your twin] as an extension of yourself," Cathy says. "You shared nine months together before you were even born. You're so used to that person being there. They're like your alter ego."
Separate but equalIn late spring 1994, Susan and Stuart Richards learned they were expecting a third child.
They were already busy raising two preschool-age daughters, Shelley and Shauna, and building a home in Hartwood.
Susan was shocked when a sonogram at 12 weeks revealed not one baby but two. She remembers shaking on the examination table. She and her husband had never considered the possibility of twins. Neither of their families had any.
"I was thrilled," Susan recalls, especially when a later sonogram revealed two girls. Susan knew all about girls.
Suzy and Sabrina are part of an explosion of twins born in the mid-1990s. Today, one in 33 babies is born as part of a pair, reports the National Center for Health Statistics.
That's 53 percent more than in 1980. The boom is attributed to fertility treatments and the age of women giving birth.
Moms over 30--and especially those in their 40s and 50s--are more likely to have twins naturally. Susan was 41 when she became pregnant with hers.
From the moment their hearts began beating, Suzy and Sabrina have existed only two minutes without the other. That was when the doctor delivered Suzy, then delivered Sabrina.
They have been constant companions ever since. They shared a nursery, then a bed, and spoke a secret language as toddlers. The girls learned to swim before they could walk, in the back porch hot tub where they spent most evenings with their father while Susan took a rest.
"Share" was one of Suzy and Sabrina's earliest words, and Susan says they mastered the art of it long before most children.
Susan and Stuart learned to be especially fair. They bought some things in duplicates, like on the girls' last birthday when both wanted goggles and bow-and-arrow sets.
Suzy and Sabrina never have become bored easily. There's always a playmate, always a partner in crime.
The first day of kindergarten was not a happy day in the Richards house. The principal thought it was best for twins to be split up. Sabrina and Suzy did not. Susan remembers them crying, locking themselves in the bathroom.
They've long since accepted the daily separation, but still, Sabrina says, "We miss each other."
A shared lifeThe girls have grown tired of the kitchen and are not yet ready to dive into the drudgery of homework. They head upstairs, where their rooms are on opposite ends of a hallway.
They shared a bedroom for a decade, until Scooter entered the family and Shelley and Shauna moved into the basement for teen privacy. Scooter stays with Sabrina, and it's hard to sleep three to a room.
When the wind howls or a summer storm rolls in, the hall serves as path rather than a divide.
This afternoon, the carpeted stretch is a tumbling run. Sabrina and Suzy prop open their doors, sprint down the hall and flip onto Suzy's carefully made bed.
Suzy is the neater twin, both girls agree. Her comforter is pulled up tight, wrinkles smoothed, pillows carefully placed--until a flying Sabrina plops down.
"Sabrina, I just straightened it."
Down the hall, Sabrina's bed is unmade. Both girls have blue and purple comforters, though the prints are different. Suzy has a collection of tiny dolls in her window. Sabrina has a stack of hats and Red Sox paraphernalia.
When Sabrina and Suzy are home, the house comes alive.
The girls make up dances and songs. They invent words--there's "tokyo," which means "yes," and "psychopotamian," a nutty person--and go around reciting them.
"We investigate things together," Suzy says. Those investigations sometimes involve antagonizing their teenage sisters.
Sabrina suddenly realizes it's after 4 and she's missing "Oprah." She announces her plans to go watch it downstairs.
"Oprah?" says Suzy, who remains behind. "She's kind of full of herself. I know she gives to charity "
"No, you just don't have respect for her," Sabrina calls out.
Both girls end up on the couch in front of "Oprah." They lie backward with legs thrown over the couch's back, debating who's the smartest, who's the smallest, who reads better, who's prettier.
"They're moments away from whackin' one another," Susan says.
And the thing is, Suzy and Sabrina can whack each other. They can throw insults back and forth. But no one else can.
To reach KRISTIN DAVIS:
Email: kdavis@freelancestar.com
