“So, he can just change my name like that?” Mia demanded, crossing his arms with a huff. “He didn’t even ask me, and he can just erase my whole identity.”
“You were a child at the time,” I reminded him. “And he was your legal guardian, so yes, he had the right to do that. Luckily, you’re an adult now, which means you have the right to change it back if you want.”
“Yes,” Mia said immediately. He stood up and pulled me off the couch toward the door. “Let’s change it back. I refuse to be Jeremiah any longer than necessary.”
“Hold on, hold on.” I managed to stop him before he left the apartment. “I’m not entirely sure where we need to go for a name change, but it’s late. All of the government offices are definitely closed by now. We’ll need to at least wait until tomorrow.”
Mia stopped and stomped his foot. “Fine,” he sighed. “But we’re going first thing in the morning”
He pouted again, and this time, I couldn’t resist kissing the expression right off his lips.
CHAPTER 29
Mia
I stareddown at the file on the table until my eyes grew blurry and my vision crossed. It held all the information that Auggie had found about me so far. My name, my family, the town I grew up in, everything. He’d given it to me two days ago after telling me about my real name, but he’d left it up to me when I wanted to open the file.
If I ever wanted to open the file.
There was no choice about revealing my real name. I needed it for legal necessities like social security and health reasons like my medical history. My real name was something I couldn’t ignore, though I still wasn’t sure what to think about it. I disliked the name Jeremiah, and I’d already started looking into the process of changing it back to Mia, but I didn’t have enough history with the name to truly hate it. No one had ever called me Jeremiah before. It wasn’t an obstacle I’d had to overcome. The name had nothing to do with me beyond the realm of legal paperwork.
The rest of the information in the file was a different matter. That was my past, but I was free to ignore it if I wanted. Nothing about my life right now would change if I learned about my father’s family or where my mother’s grave was located. I could throw the folder away and content myself with only the memories I was able to recall on my own.
So far, I’d recovered a lot, but there were still many holes in my memory that may never be filled. My father’s face was one of those blank spots. I could recall the man, and the outcome of my interactions with him—most of which were unpleasant—but I couldn’t say for certain what color his eyes were or if he was tall or short. He was a shadow in the shape of a human rather than an actual person in my mind.
I was really tempted to just throw out the file and say, “fuck it.” My past was over, and it wasn’t even that happy. Maybe it was best left forgotten. However, even as I thought that, I was already reaching for the top of the folder and flipping it open.
Who was I kidding?
I couldn’t leave my own history unknown. Even if I wasn’t curious, Auggie had gone through too much trouble compiling this information for me to throw it out.
The information inside seemed to be in chronological order. It started with my birth certificate, proving that my name really had been Mia when I was first born. I was only twenty-one years old, younger than I felt, and I was born in April. Apparently, I’d been born nearly two weeks early, but that didn’t seem to have stopped me from being a squirmy baby. The spot on the birth certificate where my little footprints were supposed to go was smudged with ink, as though the nurses had struggled to get me to hold still long enough to take the prints.
Along with my birth certificate, was a picture of my parents with me as a newborn in the hospital. The sight of my father’s face still didn’t stir any memories in me, but I could see some similarities to my own features. My mother, technically, matched my memories of her, but she was younger than I remembered. When I was a kid, she’d always seemed so mature, but looking at her now, I realized she was barely older than Chantal was now.
I was barely visible in the photo, just a little scrunched up face peeking out of a cheerfully patterned blanket. I had no hair on my head, my eyes weren’t even open, and the blanket was a neutral yellow color. There was nothing in this picture that would indicate my gender one way or another, but by that point my name had probably already been decided.
I wondered if they’d talked about it beforehand, or if my mother had surprised my father with my name at the moment they needed to sign the birth certificate. Both of them were smiling in the picture, but there was a heaviness in their eyes that looked more tired than happy. You wouldn’t know it just from this one photo, but they were already suffering under the grief of losing their first child and their marriage was on the verge of collapse.
Behind the photo was a copy of their divorce papers. After my birth, they managed to keep things together until my first birthday, but their marriage didn’t survive to see my second one.
Each new photo and document, each reminder of a past I was tempted to forget, pricked at my heart. If I was a voodoo doll, I’d be more pins than stitches by now. Unable to take another stab, I slammed the file closed.
That was enough for one day. Maybe I’d open it again later. Or maybe not. The important thing was that I now had the power to make that choice for myself.
The sound of the front door opening pulled me away from the file containing my past. I happily cast aside the pain of my own memories to greet Auggie as he returned home. These last few days, I hadn’t felt like doing much, keeping to myself as I processed the new information I’d been given. However, today Auggie managed to convince me to leave the apartment and go out with him for dinner.
As usual, whenever we ate out, though Auggie said dinner was my choice, I ended up agreeing with whatever he suggested. I didn’t know the establishments in the area very well, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d eaten in a restaurant before meeting Auggie. My mother never wanted to leave the house more than necessary, my father hated being seen with me in public, Camp Green Hill never let us leave their property, and when I was homeless, I could barely afford to feed myself, let alone expensive dining.
Luckily, Auggie was apparently part psychic and always seemed to know exactly what I wanted to eat, even when I didn’t. I was never once disappointed by agreeing with his suggestions.
At the restaurant, my outfit got a few odd looks. The long wig I wore helped to soften my appearance, but my features were still a bit too angular and my jawline too square to immediately pass for a woman. Instead, I created an image of confusion for anyone who bothered to look too closely.
Our waiter was the worst, openly gawking at me the moment he approached our table and completely forgetting to introduce himself or run through the usual customer service script. Ishifted nervously in my seat, worried that we were about to cause a scene, or worse, get kicked out of the restaurant. It was a nice place, so I’d dressed up more than usual, but maybe that had been a bad idea.
After a few awkward moments, Auggie loudly cleared his throat. “Do we need to ask for another waiter?”
The man finally stopped staring at me and turned his attention to Auggie. At first, he was clearly prepared to argue and cause the very scene I feared. However, that all changed the moment his eyes landed on Auggie, and he realized who exactly he was dealing with.