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“Where do we begin?”
“At the beginning. What do you know about your mother?”
“Nothing.”
“Do you have a picture of her or her name?” I asked joining him in the dated living room.
“No. Nothing.”
“What about a birth certificate?”
“I do have one of those. Let me get it.”
When he met me at the door he was using one crutch. But inside, he shed it and hobbled around instead.
When he reentered the room with a piece of paper in his hand I asked him, “How’s your leg?”
“Better with you around,” he said with a smile.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“Not as much. I think I’m good.”
I looked at him questioningly but let it go. I took the paper from him and looked at it.
“This is fake,” I told him without thinking.
“What?”
“This isn’t your birth certificate. Where did you get it?”
“My father said that he got it from the hospital where I was born. Why do you think it’s fake?”
“When you have two biological fathers, what goes on a birth certificate is an issue. Birth certificates become something you pay attention to. I’ve never seen any that looks like yours.”
“What are you referring to?”
“Everything. Your mother’s name is Jane Doe and your father’s name is Joe Rucker?”
“Yeah. They didn’t know my mother’s name so they put Jane Doe.”
“They didn’t know your mother’s name, but they knew your father’s? How would that work? Was he there for your birth, but he didn’t know your mother’s name?”
“I never asked.”
“You never asked?” I asked skeptically.
“My father wasn’t a fan of questions.”
I looked back at the certificate.
“It says here that your birth name is ‘Boy’.”
“Yeah, my father said he never bothered to name me,” Cage said lowering his head.
“Cage, you have a name.”
“I made up Cage.”
