Then, a month earlier, she’d seen my name in an online alumni newsletter.
It mentioned the company where I worked.
“Once I found that,” she said, “finding you wasn’t difficult.”
I laughed.
“So you waited until my birthday.”
She smiled.
“I figured twelve years late was bad enough. I wasn’t going to make it twelve years and one day.”
We both laughed.
Then, without warning, we started crying.
It was the strangest reunion imaginable.
But it was ours.
Anna pointed toward the envelope.
“After your father forced me out, I asked my mother to get a copy of your birth certificate and send it to me addressed to you.”
She had never opened it.
“I wanted you to be the one to break the seal.”
I stared at the handwriting.
“I have another grandmother,” I whispered.
Part 6
That night, I called Dad.
I needed to hear the truth from him.
“Happy birthday again, son,” he said.
“Anna was here.”
Silence.
Not a question.
Not surprise.
Just silence.
“Is she really my mother?”
He exhaled.
“George…”
“Is she?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why did you tell me she stole from us?”
“I needed you to stop looking for her.”
