“It’s Nikki. Nobody has ever called me Nicole. My mom liked Nikki better.” I tuck my hands under my thighs to hide the trembling. My head is light, the room spins a bit and it’s entirely possible I could actually be sick. I do my best to steady myself as Ms. Hawkins opens her desk drawer and takes out a second folder, which she opens.

“I just need to see your identification, Nikki.” She looks up and smiles to make sure I hear her say Nikki, rather than Nicole. She’s already more attentive than Ms. Evans.

She inspects my identification, smiles and looks up at me warmly. “Happy Birthday. Eighteen is a big one. Hard to imagine it was ten years ago for me. Enjoy it. Time goes fast.” She thumbs through the file and then folds her hands on top of it. “So what kind of information did you hope to find out today?” she cuts to the chase, politely but directly.

“I really don’t know anything about my childhood in California. I grew up in Texas. I’ve only been back in California since my mother died. I came to live with my Aunt who I hadn’t even known existed before that.” I’ve told nearly my whole life story to a stranger in five seconds.

“Okay, well your file has your hospital birth records. And it also has some records of Court hearings on visitation,” Ms. Hawkins explains.

Visitation? Visitation with who? “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Let’s start with your birth records. Would that be okay?” she asks, trying to take things slower.

“Yes, I think that would be good. Thank you.”

She slides the thicker of the two folders toward me on the desk. “Do you want me to go through it with you or would you rather have a few minutes alone to go through it?” I’m grateful for the choice and tell her I’d like to have a few minutes alone.

“I’ll be just across the room using another phone to catch up on some messages. Let me know if you need me,” she says as she walks away, leaving me still sitting on my hands.

I reach for the folder, my unsteady hand shaking. My anxiety level surges as I open it. The page fastened to the inside left is a hospital admission form. Baby Girl B

I turn slowly through my birth records, learning Baby Girl B— me— was a healthy baby. Three days in the hospital and discharged to “Mother”.

The records are scant. I’m not sure what I expected but somehow I thought I would learn more.

I remember Ms. Hawkins saying there were also records of Court orders. I slide the second folder across the desk hoping that something about Baby Girl A is to be found. The large stack of papers are secured with a rubber band. The first page is a faded seventeen year old Court order dated three days after my first birthday. A narrative appears below the date:

After a hearing and evidence presented by both parties, this Court orders that Respondent is permitted visitation with his infant daughter, Nicole Fallon, on alternate Sundays from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. within the county of Long Beach.

It is further ordered that Respondent pay child support in the amount of $880.00 per month to the infant’s mother, Carla Fallon, through the Office of Child Support Collections.

It is acknowledged that based on Respondent’s current salary of $116,000.00, the presumptive child support amount under the Federal Child Support Standards Act would be $1355.00 per month. However, a downward departure in support is warranted due to the fact that Respondent and his spouse are the parents of two additional minor children. The Court takes into further consideration the fact that Respondent’s custodial daughter, Emily Bennett, born February 14th, 1996, has considerable current medical expenses due to medical complications after birth last year.

The Court suggests to the parties that they work towards developing a relationship between these currently estranged siblings.

So Ordered:

February 17, 1997.

Justice Robert Brown

Emily Bennett? Emily Bennett born February 14, 1996? It has to be a cruel coincidence. There must be other Emily Bennetts in Long Beach. And who is Respondent? I thought my father was dead? The court directs the parties to work at developing a relationship between the two estranged siblings?

Suddenly I find it hard to breathe. The air is thick and my lungs can’t inhale enough oxygen. If I sit here another minute, I’m certain I’ll pass out. I spot Ms. Hawkins on the phone but know I can’t afford to wait another moment. Tearing the page from the file, I take off running, heading desperately for the main entrance.

Air. I need air.

When my feet finally reach the concrete out front, I gasp, swallowing down as much oxygen as I can take in. Bent over, hands on my knees, I inhale deeply and exhale loudly, my lungs burn, starving after being deprived. I look up towards the street. There’s a bus pulling up I could hop on. But I know I can’t possibly enter another confined space. So, I run.

And run.

And run.

Eventually I collapse. Out of breath and panting on the ground, I look up and realize where my feet have lead me. Roselawn Memorial Cemetery. Allie had once told me Zack had been found here lying at Emily’s grave several times in the weeks after her death. My heart tightened in my chest each time Aunt Claire and I drove past it, reminding me of what he must have been through.

Sitting trying to catch my breath I tell myself that it won’t be what I think. It can’t be. My sister is alive. My sister is not Zack’s Emily.

When I finally have enough breath to walk, I compose myself and walk to the small brick office building just beyond the gate. A kind looking old man sitting at the desk reading the newspaper looks up as I enter. “Can I help you, Miss?”