I stared at him.
“No. You said she left when I was six.”
“She did.”
“That was twenty-eight years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened fourteen years ago?”
“She resurfaced.”
My mouth went dry.
“Where?”
“New Jersey.”
Maria became completely still.
Anthony looked directly at her.
“Under the name Teresa Alvarez.”
Silence.
Maria’s lips parted.
No words came.
I felt the room shift beneath me.
“No,” she whispered.
Anthony looked devastated.
“Your mother wasn’t Teresa Alvarez.”
Maria stepped backward.
“She raised me.”
“I know.”
“She was my mother.”
“I know.”
“She passed away five years ago.”
Anthony nodded.
“I know.”
“How?”
He slowly reached into the inner pocket of his coat.
For a moment, instinct took over again.
But once more, there was nothing dangerous.
Only an envelope.
Old.
Creased.
Yellowed around the edges.
He placed it on my desk.
My name was written across the front.
Daniel.
I recognized the handwriting.
My mother’s.
I had seen it on birthday cards kept from my childhood.
I stared at the envelope.
“Where did you get this?”
“Your father gave it to me.”
“When?”
“Before he p@ssed away.”
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
Anthony looked ashamed.
“Because he told me not to unless your mother returned.”
“She didn’t.”
“No.”
I looked toward Maria.
Her face had turned pale.
“What does this have to do with her?”
Anthony gestured toward the envelope.
“Read it.”
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
The paper inside had been folded twice.
The ink was faded.
Daniel,
If you are reading this, then either I have failed once more or someone has finally decided that you deserve the truth.
Your father will tell you that I abandoned you.
I did not.
I spent years trying to reach you.
I was told you were safer believing that I had died.
Perhaps, for a while, that was true.
But there is something you need to know.
I wasn’t alone when I left.
I stopped reading.
My throat tightened.
Maria whispered, “Daniel?”
I forced myself to keep going.
There was another child.
A girl.
Your sister.
I read the sentence three times.
Then I looked toward Anthony.
He remained silent.
I returned my attention to the letter.
Her name was Marisol.
To keep her safe, I changed our names.
I called myself Teresa.
And I called her Maria.
My hand went numb.
