Chapter 2: The Name Nobody Would Say
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what Jordan had said.
My real father.
The words seemed to float through the living room, disconnected from the furniture, the afternoon sunlight, and the family photographs hanging along the hallway.
I looked at Marcus.
He was still standing beside the sofa, his hands hanging stiffly at his sides.
“Tell me he's lying,” I said.
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“Jordan doesn't know what he's talking about.””
“Then say it clearly. Tell me the document is wrong.””
He didn't.
I looked down at the paper again. I couldn't make sense of all the official language, but the names were unmistakable.
My mother's name.
My date of birth.
And a reference to a man whose identity was not included on the portion I had found.
There was also a signature.
Marcus's signature.
I recognized it from birthday cards, school permission slips, and the little notes he used to leave beside my breakfast when I had exams.
I had spent eighteen years believing that signature belonged to the man who had brought me into the world.
Now I wondered how much of my life had been built on a lie.
“Sit down, Maya,” Denise said.
I laughed once, without humor.
“You don't get to tell me what to do right now.””
“I'm trying to keep this conversation from getting out of control.””
“You kept my father's identity from me for eighteen years, and you're worried about the conversation?””
Her face tightened.
Marcus moved between us.
“Don't speak to Denise like that.””
I stared at him.
“You just heard what Jordan said.””
“Your brother is upset. He's repeating things he doesn't understand.””
Jordan flinched.
That was when I noticed his hands.
He had curled them into fists inside the sleeves of his hoodie. His eyes were fixed on the floor, and his lower lip trembled as he tried to hold himself together.
He wasn't looking like someone making up a story.
He looked like someone who had been ordered to stay quiet for too long.
I turned to him.
“Jordan, look at me.””
He hesitated.
“Please.””
He finally lifted his head.
“When did you hear about my biological father?””
“Last month.””
Denise stepped forward.
“Jordan, go upstairs.””
“No,” I said.
She ignored me.
“Go to your room. Now.””
Jordan remained where he was.
For the first time in my life, my little brother seemed to be standing up to her.
“I heard Dad talking on the phone,” he said.
“He said the man had contacted the lawyer again.””
Marcus's face darkened.
“That's enough.””
Jordan's voice grew shaky.
“He said Maya was turning eighteen, and they couldn't keep delaying it.””
I stared at my father.
“Delaying what?””
Nobody answered.
The refrigerator hummed in the kitchen. Somewhere outside, a lawn mower passed along the street.
Ordinary sounds.
An ordinary afternoon.
Yet I felt as if the floor beneath my feet had begun to tilt.
“Dad, what does turning eighteen have to do with anything?””
Marcus dragged a hand over his face.
“Your mother and I made decisions a long time ago.””
“Which mother?””
The question stopped him.
I hadn't meant to say it that way. But the instant the words left my mouth, I knew I needed the answer.
“My mother,” I continued.
“The one who gave birth to me. What did she know?””
Denise glanced at Marcus.
That glance told me more than either of them had said.
I stepped closer.
“Did Mom know you weren't my biological father?””
Marcus lowered his head.
“Yes.””
My knees nearly buckled.
I grabbed the back of a dining chair to steady myself.
“How long did she know?””
“Since before you were born.””
I couldn't breathe properly.
For eighteen years, I had carried a photograph of my mother in my wallet. She was smiling in it, one hand resting on her pregnant belly, her eyes bright with the kind of happiness I had assumed came from knowing the man beside her would be there forever.
Marcus was beside her in that photograph.
He was holding her hand.
“You knew before I was born,” I whispered.
“Yes.””
“And you let me call you Dad.””
His expression crumpled.
“Maya, I have always been your father in every way that matters.””
“Then why hide it?””
He opened his mouth.
Denise interrupted.
“Because your mother was terrified of what would happen if the truth came out.””
I turned toward her.
“You don't get to speak for my mother.””
Her eyes flashed.
“I was there when she needed someone. You were a baby. You don't remember what those months were like.””
“Then tell me!””
She looked toward Marcus again.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
That tiny movement infuriated me.
Even now, they were negotiating which pieces of my life I was allowed to know.
I pulled the document open and held it toward them.
“I'm not leaving until someone tells me who he is.””
Marcus's voice dropped.
“His name is Daniel Reed.””
The name meant nothing to me.
It should have.
Somewhere, in a city I had never visited or a house I had never seen, a man with that name had lived an entire life without me.
“Where is he?””
Marcus looked away.
“I don't know.””
“Jordan said he's coming back.””
“I said I don't know where he is.””
“Then why did you say that?””
Jordan's voice came from behind me.
“Because the lawyer called.””
Marcus turned on him.
“You were told not to discuss that.””
Jordan's eyes filled with tears.
“I was tired of watching her think nobody cared about her.””
Denise took a sharp breath.
“That's unfair, Jordan.””
“Is it?”” he asked.
“She was looking at the doors the whole ceremony. She kept checking her phone. Dad, she even saved you a seat in the family section.””
I squeezed my eyes shut.
I hadn't known Jordan had noticed.
He continued anyway.
“She called me before she walked onto the stage. She asked if you were coming.””
Marcus's face twisted.
“Jordan, please.””
“And I lied,” my brother said.
“I told her you were parking.””
He looked at me.
“I'm sorry.””
I wanted to hug him. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to rewind the entire day and sit beside him in the audience so neither of us would have been alone.
Instead, I asked the only question that mattered.
“What was so important that you couldn't come?””
Denise's composure finally broke.
“Because Daniel's attorney contacted us yesterday,” she said.
“He requested a meeting about your eighteenth birthday.””
“Why would my birthday matter to him?””
Marcus closed his eyes.
Denise glanced at the envelope.
“Because there are things your mother left behind that belong to you.””
“What things?””
She said nothing.
I looked at the document again, then back at Marcus.
“Did Mom leave me money?””
“No.””
“A house?””
“No.””
“Then what?””
Marcus's voice sounded painfully tired.
“Your mother left instructions. We were supposed to give you certain information when you turned eighteen, provided a few conditions were met.””
“What conditions?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“That is complicated.””
“I'm eighteen now!””
“I know.””
“Then tell me!””
He took a step toward me, but I held up my hand.
“Don't come any closer.””
He stopped.
For the first time, my father looked as if he understood that he could no longer order me to trust him.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said.
“But you did.””
The words came out quietly.
That seemed to hurt him more than my shouting.
I folded the document, slid it back into the envelope, and tucked it beneath my arm.
“I want everything,” I said.
“The documents. The letters. The lawyer's name. Every single thing Mom left.””
Denise shook her head.
“You're emotional right now. We should wait until tomorrow.””
“No. You've had eighteen years.””
I walked toward the hallway.
Marcus followed me for two steps.
“Maya, where are you going?””
“To get my things.””
“You're not driving anywhere in this state.””
I turned.
“Watch me.””
His expression changed, but I didn't wait to find out what he would say.
I climbed the stairs, entered my bedroom, and shut the door.
The room looked exactly as it had that morning.
My college brochures lay beside my laptop. A graduation card from my English teacher sat on the desk. My mother's photograph rested inside a small wooden frame near the window.
I picked it up.
“Who was he?”” I whispered to the smiling woman in the picture.
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I nearly ignored it, but another message appeared before I could set the phone down.
*Maya, my name is Daniel Reed. I've been trying to reach you for years. I know you found the document. Please don't let Marcus destroy it.*
My fingers went cold.
A second message followed.
*Your mother didn't die without leaving you the truth. She left you a letter. Marcus knows where it is.*
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
Then the phone rang.
I answered without speaking.
A man's voice came through, rough and unsteady.
“Maya?””
“Who is this?””
“My name is Daniel. And there's something your father should have told you before today.””
I gripped the edge of my desk.
“What?””
He paused.
Then he said, “The reason Marcus raised you wasn't simply because he loved your mother.””
My heart pounded.
“What does that mean?””
“Ask him what happened the night you were born.””
The call ended.
I stood motionless, the phone pressed against my ear.
From downstairs, I heard Marcus shout my name.
May you like
Then I heard the front door slam.
And when I looked through my bedroom window, a black sedan was pulling away from our driveway.