False Identity

CURRENT DAY

I make my way to the 6th house on my list and gape in awe as I take in the view. It's a striking house, one that must belong to a wealthy family. The ever pleasant greenery of the front yard seems to stretch for miles, encompassing various types of plants within it.

Beyond the grass is the house itself, standing out from the rest of the beige homes on the street. It seems to be about 3 stories, with large windows surrounding the whole of it. White is its primary colour, with hints of deep brown and gold covering the sides.

Even before taking a step onto the property I know this can't be the house I belong to. My previous family was not wealthy by the least. We were poor, living in a 1-story apartment by the corner of the local Shell gas station. For the majority of my life, both of my parents worked as maids for the wealthy families. They would always tell me tales of homes like these, but to see a house such as this in person was truly amazing.

Ever since I learned the truth about myself, I have never been the same. After the death of my "parents", I took it upon my self to hunt down my real ones and find out what really happened to me and why they abandoned me.

I started with rummaging through my parents old belongings and was able to find out the names of the people they worked for.

Lucky for me, I was close friends with a man that worked for the York Regional Police, and with his help was able to locate six addresses, each in various parts of Ontario. Each address made me one step closer to finding out who I really was, but with each home I lost hope, as so far none seemed to have a clue as to who I was, which meant only one home was left, and I was currently standing in front of it.

Standing here in my brown track pants, a white tee, some old joggers and a worn out black backpack, I feel extremely out of place. I take one last glance around me and with that make my way up the marble stairs of the marvellous home in front of me.

I cautiously make my way up, holding in my hand the letter that changed my life forever. To say I was nervous would be an understatement; I was a complete wreck inside. This was my last chance to ever find out who I really am.

My heart begins beating repeatedly, ready to jump at any given moment and without notice, I have arrived at the front door of my last address, 376 Wilmore Drive. The door in front of me is made out of brown hard wood, with 2 tinted windows in the middle. I spot the doorbell, and with one more glance towards the letter in my hand, ring the bell. The serene sound of the birds chirping could be heard from the distance as I wait for a response, when after a few moments I hear the sound of footsteps.

My senses become hyperaware as I see the faint outline of a lady coming towards the door. As she comes closer, I take a sharp intake of breath, drinking up her features. You can tell she must be in her late 40's, from the streaks of white flowing through the roots of her hair, to the faint wrinkles settled around the corners of her mouth. She has an olive skin tone, with the deepest set of emerald green eyes I have ever seen. She's wearing a pair of black suit pants and matching top, with her hair tight in a bun.

I set my eyes back on her face, and notice she has a pair of high cheek bones, pleasant to the eye, but what strikes me the most is the fact that she looks just like me. My heart begins racing as the lady opens the door. Could this be her? I think to myself. Could this be...my real mother? The door opens fully, and the smile that previously accompanied the face of the women vanishes in a matter of mere seconds. She gasps, her right hand flying to her open mouth, as she looks me over heard to toe and I know she recognizes me, how could she not? We look so similar.

"D-d-Daniel? Is that really you?", The lady begins, and I nod realizing my real name is Daniel, not Sam. I hand her the letter I was holding so dearly in my hand and she takes it cautiously, as her gaze falls upon the writing engraved on it. All of a sudden, I am being grasped tightly by the shoulders and being pulled into the lady's arms. She begins sobbing violently, as I inhale her warm vanilla scent. She begins stroking my dark brown hair, as I feel a wave of tears stream down my face. I know I've found her, my real mother, and I am finally going to get some answers.

Mary, which is the name the lady told me to call her, takes me to the living room of the house. From inside, the house has large ceilings and wide white walls. Different portraits are hung across the walls, each of different sceneries ranging from mountains to beautiful city portraits.

From the ceiling of the living room hangs a beautiful chandelier, the diamonds hanging on it reflecting the light casting a soft shadow. Mary offers for me to sit on one of the many white leather sofas placed in the living room and as I do, I see a large wooden cabinet with many shelves behind the sofa. On the middle shelf are individually placed pictures of Mary and her family. I see many foreign faces as I glance across the photos, but one seems to intrigue me.

It is one of a young boy with dark brown hair and bright emerald green eyes. He seems carefree and content, containing a huge smile on his face, and I realize this is a photo of me from when I was younger. The sight of my younger self brings upon sadness in me. I could have lived this way my whole life if not for that incident, yet I don't regret the way I have lived. I am deeply grateful for my previous family, and will always love them. I finally decide to sit down while Mary sits across from me on the black ottoman. She grabs a hold of my dirty hands, her own tidy and clean, and begins speaking.