Now Hi, Mom! I delete the exclamation point. Hi, Mom. That doesn’t feel right, either. Hey, Mom. Did you cheat on Dad in college? Delete. Hey, Mom. So I just got an email from FamilyTree.com that says Dad isn’t my father. DID YOU CHEAT ON HIM??? Delete. I close my eyes and focus on breathing, trying to center myself, but there’s no use. I should feel validated for all the times I felt like an outsider in my family. My stomach churns at the thought of another family out there, another life where I might have grown up knowing how it feels to belong. My mother took that from me. One more deep breath, and then I crack my knuckles and start typing. Hi, Mom. I got an email from FamilyTree.com. They said a man named Andrew Abrams is my father. Paige. Not bad, I think, rereading the words. Direct, straightforward, and not accusatory. Before I lose my nerve, I hit send. It’s just after three, so she’s probably out having coffee with one of her girlfriends. I can picture her, glancing at her phone as the email comes in, her face growing pale, her jaw literally dropping. “Elizabeth, what’s…
