I stared at the email, reading it over and over, a tear escaping as I accepted this new gift of information. Teresa. My mother’s name was Teresa. That little piece of knowledge made me happy in a way I didn’t think was possible since this whole ordeal began. I swirled the name around my mouth, saying it out loud, enjoying the way it rolled off my tongue. My biological mother is Teresa. I smiled and a short laugh escaped. Having a name to attach to her made everything feel so real. If I connected with Cristian and they were no longer estranged, would he be able to put me in contact with her? Or at least give me some insight on how to track her down? And then another feeling seeped in, spreading through me like wildfire. Nerves. What little I knew about Teresa sounded so different from who I was. What if she was still a drug user? Or didn’t want to get to know me at all? She’d opted for a closed adoption, after all. I wasn’t sure if I could handle finding her, only to have her slam the door in my face. But I needed to see what my life would have looked like if she hadn’t given me up.

A glass of wine was sorely needed as I mentally crafted my response. I hopped up and went to the fridge, the laughter and clinking glasses from the bar outside filtering through the thinly sealed windows like white noise, the soundtrack to my messy life. There was still at least one glass left of the sauvignon blanc Andie and I had shared last night while watching a movie, so I grabbed that from inside the refrigerator door. As I poured the wine, I thought about the email from Cristian. My grand uncle. I needed to know more about my mother and I still had no information about my father or any other living relatives. Settling into the couch, I pulled my computer close to me again. After taking a large gulp of wine, I set it down and hit the ‘Reply’ button on the page.

Dear Cristian,