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I am trying to get all this moving stuff done as quickly as possible because I have a date tonight with someone I met online. I can’t remember her name without looking, but I remember she had pretty eyes. We’re going to dinner and then back to my place. I haven’t asked her yet, but I know she will come. I don’t usually have difficulty finding a companion for the night.
I’m hoping my parents don’t catch me again. Not that there is anything wrong with enjoying some female company in my own home, but they have been giving me shit every time they see a new girl come by. I live in the guest house on their property. I moved out of the main house for more privacy after high school. It might as well be a bedroom and a place to watch TV since I don’t use the kitchen often because my parents usually leave food for me in their kitchen. They really are the best parents anyone could have.
Living there saves me so much money because they don’t charge me rent. I help my pops at the music shop on the weekends when I’m not teaching drama at the local high school in town. It allows the regular employees to rotate their weekends off, and I work for free, so my parents save money. I don’t mind doing it for free because it’s the least I can do.
Mom and Pops are the only people that have ever cared for me without neglecting me or beating the shit out of me. I was a foster kid and moved around a lot from the age of four until I was placed with them at fourteen.
My biological father was nonexistent in my life, I’m not even sure my biological mother knew who he was. She loved drugs and her string of boyfriends more than she ever loved me. The state took me away when they found me wandering the streets alone one night when I was only four years old. I was roaming the neighborhood looking for my mom, who hadn’t come home for two days.
I vaguely remember the first home I was ever placed in, but the woman fostering me was diagnosed with an illness soon after I got placed with her, so she had to send me back. After ten years of moving around, I was so happy when I was finally placed with someone who didn’t beat the shit out of me and even happier when I realized they planned on adopting me.
My bio mom never tried to regain custody of me. She attended some visits, but was never consistent in showing up. I was fifteen or sixteen the last time I saw her. Mom and Pops reached out when we started to talk about them adopting me. By the time my birth mom finally signed her rights over, I was seventeen, so there was no need to go through spending money on adoption. Mom and Pops treated me like their son from the moment they got me anyway.
Their names are Liza and August. It took me a while to start calling them Mom and Pops, although it’s so natural now. With the life I've had it’s hard to trust that anyone will stay…but they did. I still try my best not to get close enough to care about people. I will never let someone hurt me by leaving me again.
My parents used the money they saved for adopting me to pay for college so I could get my teaching degree. I love being a drama teacher. I fully believe Pops is the reason why I love music so much. Although I don’t play well, I do my best.
This girl is sexy. She is in town visiting her friend or cousin or something like that. I honestly don’t remember what she said because I’ve been thinking about what her mouth tastes like the whole time she has been sitting across from me. She is brunette and skinny, which isn’t my typical type, but who am I to judge?
“What do you think?” I heard her say. I can’t even pretend I heard what she said because I have no idea.
“I’m sorry, I heard none of that. I was too busy thinking about kissing you.” I smirked.
Her cheeks went pink and she started to slide her foot up my jeans. Then she said the magic words, “Wanna get out of here?”
I did…I really fucking did. I had to run to the bathroom to look at the dating app because I still can’t remember her fucking name.
It’s Lauren…Her name is Lauren.
CHAPTER THREE
Aubrey
Idecided not to ambush my parents through a call or text. This was the kind of conversation you had in person, and they would be home in a few hours. Brie and I took everything to my room until they got home so we could try to piece it all together ourselves, but we had zero luck. Nothing made sense.
I wanted to bombard them with all the questions swirling around in my brain the moment they walked inside. Instead, I chose to let them settle in before asking them to sit down so we could talk. This was not anything new for me, so I’m sure they thought nothing of it. I have always asked them to sit when I would admit something to them or when I wanted to discuss something serious. My dad usually rolled his eyes and joked about me being pregnant. This time I knew he could tell something was off because he didn’t even try to joke. I started to get everyone’s food, but my dad stopped me.
“Aubs, don’t worry about food. What’s going on? Talk to us…what’s got you frowning?” My parents and Brie were staring at me, but I wasn’t sure where to start, so my eyes darted back and forth between them.
Brie grabbed my hand and whispered in my ear, “You got this. I’m with you every step.”
I finally got the courage to open my mouth. “When I was upstairs in the attic earlier to grab some things to take to the new apartment…I found this.”
I placed the box on the table, and my mom froze. Her eyes immediately went to my father, who was staring at the box, not saying a word. After a few seconds, he finally looked at me.
“Did you go through it?”
I looked at him in disbelief wondering why that was his first question.
“Of course I went through it,” I said curtly.
“What did you find?”
“Are you serious? What do you think I found Dad? I found a birth certificate, and it doesn’t have you listed as my father. God, it doesn’t even have me listed as me. It has mom’s maiden name as my last name.”
I didn’t mean to yell, but his question caught me off guard. My brain can’t decide which emotion to act on first. My anger at the fact that he asked that or the feeling of betrayal that I could tell he knew exactly what this box was.
My dad grabbed my mom’s hand because her eyes were filled with tears. She was doing her best to hold them in.
