By Carina Daidone

I sat there on the family couch wondering what I would think of my parents after what they just told me. They both tried to reassure me that they loved me the entire time from the day I was born to now and forever. My mom blaming my dad for the situation, my dad blaming my mom and finally they both blamed the doctor at the end of their confession. I was smart enough to catch their oral mistake, their mental mistake; but in their case, they were in a state of panic trying to explain their horrible choice. Just a couple of minutes ago they had told me that when we, as in me and my twin sister, were born the doctor had suggested given one of us up for adoption and keeping the other. My parents, being gullible twenty year olds, agreed. Keeping my twin sister Ashley and giving me up for adoption, I was adopted by a thirty year old couple who lived in the ever so luxurious city of Manhattan. When I had turned nine I had realized that my parents and I were different. My mom and dad were organized and calm. They both had blonde hair, my mom having blue eyes and my dad having green. Me on the other hand had dark chocolate brown hair, hazel eyes and was very outgoing and unorganized. Nothing like my parents. I remember listening on to one of their conversations in the office in our two-story penthouse; they kept talking about me and my real parents. I didn’t understand what they were saying so I let it fly.

My dad being a lawyer needed doors to the office to close to keep some privacy between family life and work. My mom was a senator for New York, a great accomplishment she had achieved after years of hard work. My occupation was getting through school with great grades and honors, as my mom would put it. She would always go:

                “Remember Emily, no school no life. It’s as simple as that.”

I would always giggle and do my homework when she reminded me of that. It was like living the perfect life, it was like “too good to be true” never existed. But that didn’t last for long. My dad, Alexander Romero, was shot a week after he had proved a guilty man guilty. The gang the man belonged to had threatened my dad’s if life he if he proved him guilty, but dad ignored the threat and hired a team of body guards. The body guards obviously didn’t help. Two months later while my mom and I were on our way to a Broadway show of Wicked a drunken man ran a red light and broadsided our car. The driver and my mom were killed instantly; I fell into a deep coma. The city was devastated by my mother’s death and the fact that I had no more family. I lay in the hospital bed for two months with a coma, my mom and dad’s team of assistants became my family. When I woke up it was like being born into a whole new world. I couldn’t remember the members of my mom and dad’s teams of assistant’s names, let alone my own. However everything else was perfectly fine. The memory loss that was present wasn’t bad. I remember how to do things your average nine year old could do, it was just the name thing. Where I lived was faint in my memory but there. That would explain why I had recalled my real family living in Manhattan, when really they had been living in Florida the entire time. About a week after the doctor said that I should be fine I fell back into a coma. It wasn’t as bad; the doctor predicted that I could awake any time. During the time I was asleep in my second coma, my birth parents were contacted. They had been wanting to take me back since my twin sister Ashley had died of cancer, thinking that having an identical kid to Ashley would help ease the pain.

 When they took me back to their home in Florida they made up this whole thing about being in a horseback riding accident where I hit my head and went into a coma, losing most of my memory. They also changed my name to Sara making my middle name Emily. Well some of it was true, the last part at least. I grew up thinking that something was missing in life, like I had lived a different life before this. My parents laughed nervously and assured me that it was just my silly imagination. I remember I mixed up my dad’s name, when he had introduced himself to one of his customers. I looked at him, put my hands on my hips and said:

                “Daddy, you silly goose! Your name is Alexander not Pete!”

He looked at me nervously and responded rather quick:

                “Sweetie, you must be confused with the story I read to you last night.”

The customer laughed but I wasn’t content, he hadn’t read a book to me since I was 9 and I was 11 at that time.

                “What story daddy, you haven’t read one to me in a long time!”

                “You must of forgotten then, it happens, you must have been very tired.” He reassured me, it seemed like that’s all they did, reassure me that my claims were wrong.

                I had noticed my brother acting suspicious around me, he would always snicker when I hugged my mom and dad goodnight. I always thought he did it because I was 14 and still hugging my parents’ goodnight, unlike him who was 12 and didn’t even think twice about not saying goodnight to them. He just lives his world hour to hour, day to day. I remember this morning as I watched him play Guitar Hero 3, he stopped playing after making several mistakes and screamed:

                “Sara! Get out of here your making mess up!”

I laughed hard making him even more frustrated, his face turning red.

                “Justin, Justin, Justin. Have you ever thought that maybe you’re not ready to play on expert?” I giggled and left the room.

                I didn’t think about Justin knowing what happened to me before my parents even bothered thinking about telling me. But why now? Why did they choose to tell me now? I stared at them, tears filling my eyes. My dad was looking at his blackberry trying to get a moment away from my horrified face. My mom just looked out the window watching boats pass by on the intercoastal.

                “Why now?” I asked. My parents seemed taken by surprise that I asked. They looked at each other and my dad spoke up.

                “We just felt it was the right time to tell you.” Said my dad as he powered off his phone.  “We couldn’t keep it from you forever.” He sat up and adjusted his tie.

                I felt more hot tears fill my eyes. “So that’s your excuse, you felt it was the right time.” Anger replaced the tears. “What was my dad’s name again?”

                “My name is Pete Smith, are you having a sudden lapse of memory loss?”

                “No Pete” I exaggerated his name. “I mean the dad who loved me even though I wasn’t blood related, the guy I loved more then I will ever love you now! What’s his name?” I yelled, frustration making my face turn red, my eyes flooding with tears.

                “Alexander Romero.” my “mom” said as she emotionally surrendered. “Alexander Romero WAS his name.” She snickered. “He died remember, nothing you can do about it now.”

                I could feel the anger in her voice; it felt like she had gone from a mother figure to a kidnapper. I thought carefully about what I was going to say, it had to have the right amount of edge for it to sink in to their minds.

                “Well Pete and Annie, to me you have just lost the title of mom and dad. I’m going to find the parents who really loved me, not the ones who listened to a money hog doctor and gave up one of their daughters.” I yelled in disgust.

                Pete chuckle was low and evil sounding, at least to me. “All you will find is their death certificates, they’re dead remember! You’re trapped.”

                “How can I believe you anymore? Considering you lied to me for five years now! You lied to my face, what kind of parents are you? Are you going to call down Justin now and say that you gave him up for adoption too then wanted him back? Go ahead, or am I the only one YOU didn’t want.” My face was full of fury, the anger raging inside of me. I didn’t care what it would take, a professional team or something, but I was going to get out of this household.

                I stomped up the wood stairs, storming pass my brother in the loft. He started laughing really hard.

                “They told you didn’t they.” His laugh echoing off the walls. “Can’t you see they never really loved you, you don’t fit the criteria!”

                I held my arms to my side only longing to give him a good punch to the face.

                “I wouldn’t be talking buddy, for all you know they could have given you up for adoption to a family in Africa!” I shouted back. His face went white, I could see him wondering if I was telling the truth.

                “Do you seriously think that happened?” He asked, his voice shaky now instead of full of confidence.

                “I don’t know, but they sure did a good job of keeping a secret from me! What makes you think there not keeping one from you.” I responded coldly, the anger and rage slowly diminishing.  Justin sat back down in his blue and black tie die bean bag and shut off the Wii. I giggled slightly and stormed off into my room. The light blue and Jonas Brothers filled walls made the anger and rage now fully gone and replaced with disappointment and confusion. I opened up my Mac notebook and opened up Safari. The AOL homepage welcomed me and informed me that I had six new emails. I sighed and went to the news section.

                “Fires in California threaten homes.”

                “Dead Man Turns Up Alive.”

                “Who Will Win, Obama or Clinton?”