Past

I did one of those things where I watched a tutorial on YouTube and told myself I was an expert.

Today, I believed I was a locksmith, and I was in the spare room trying to unlock Mom's ancient armoire. I wanted to surprise her for her birthday and fix it up. I planned to spray paint it grey and replace the rusted knobs with these shiny silver handles.

I've made some new additions, too, like the shelving, and I got the measurements perfect. All I needed to do was find a way to fix this broken lock I'd heard Mom complain about. The top drawer hasn't opened in years, and if I could get it open and fixed, this would be perfect. I would take the lock entirely off, though, so we don't have these problems again.

Using the bobby pins, I followed the technique the guy and YouTube told me. I told myself not to get frustrated after the fourth or maybe fifth try, but when I finally heard that click, the drawer sprung open a centimeter. I let out a victory cheer, pumping my fists in the air.

I stood up, pulling the drawer out further.

That was strange. Mom had a bunch of documents in here. All the other compartments were utterly empty. I wondered if she had forgotten about these. They couldn't be that important if she had.

I picked up the first manila envelope, choosing to be nosy. I saw my birth certificate when I slid out the first sheet. Okay, well, this was important. I placed it aside. Then I flipped the envelope upside down, letting the contents slip out into my free hand.

Skimming it, I saw my name and Mom's. Then my eyes traveled to the top.

Paternity test.

My stomach dropped, and I felt every muscle stiffen in my body. I gripped the edges of the paper hard enough to crush it.

It's not that Mom needed a paternity test that was killing me. It's the name that I recognized at the top.

It couldn't be.