“Bye kids! Have fun and behave for Beth,” Mr. Overton told his children as he exited the house with his wife. They were attending a retirement party for Mr. Overton’s co-worker and asked me to babysit. I waved with the kids as they drove off and ushered the children back inside, closing the door.

“Alright guys. What do you want for dinner?” I asked. The three children followed me to the kitchen as they pondered over what to request for dinner. The youngest at four, Leigh, struggled to crawled up onto a stool. Six-year-old Dalton helped Leigh onto the stool and sat down next to her. Camilla, the oldest at eight, opened the pantry and picked out a box of macaroni and cheese. She looked at her siblings and they nodded in approval, so she handed me the box.

I selected meat and vegetables to go with the pasta, prepared the meal, and served the kids. As they ate, I went to the living room to turn the TV on and went to the news channel. Nothing exciting had happened today, so I shut the TV off and went to check on the children. They had finished their dinner and Camilla was rinsing the dishes in the sink. Once she was done, she set the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on.

“Well, what do you want to do now? TV? Play some games?” I asked. They looked at each other and glanced back at me before coming to a decision.

“We’d like to play a game,” Camilla said softly. I smiled and walked to the cabinet that held their board games.  

“Pick a game and come to the living room. I’ll set up a play area,” I told them, leaving the kitchen. I heard them riffle through the games as I set to work moving furniture. Finally I had a wide open space and I laid a blanket on the ground for comfort. The kids entered the room with a game and sat down. I smiled when I noticed they had chosen Clue. “Nice! Clue is one of my favorite games,” I said.

Dalton grinned broadly and replied, “It’s my favorite, too.” I opened the box and distributed the answer cards and pencils. I shuffled the game cards and had Camilla pick from the weapons pile, Dalton from the people, and Leigh from the places. Making sure no one had seen the cards, I secured them in the yellow envelope and we picked our characters. We played three rounds, Dalton winning every single one.

“I see why this is your favorite,” I laughed. Dalton just smiled and began to pack up the game. I checked the time and noticed it was almost seven o’clock. I picked up Leigh and she giggled loudly.

“I think it’s time for someone to go to bed,” I told her teasingly. She pouted as I carried her up the stairs and into her room. I helped her change into pajamas and read her a short bedtime story at her request. Once I finished, I turned the light out and shut the door. I descended the stairs and saw Camilla and Dalton fighting over the TV remote. Creeping up behind them, I  snatched the remote away and they shrieked in surprise. They went silent when they saw it was me.

“Why are you two fighting over the remote?” I scolded.

Camilla huffed and replied, “I want to watch Chopped but Dalton wants to watch Mythbusters.” I looked between the two and then glanced at the clock.

“You have an hour until you need to be in bed, so how about this: Dalton watches Mythbusters for half an hour and you watch Chopped for half an hour,” I suggested. They glanced at each other and nodded. I watched TV with them until it was their bedtime. After I watched them go up the stairs, I turned the TV off. I followed after the kids and saw them brushing their teeth in their pajamas.

When they finished they went to their rooms and I entered Dalton’s first. I turned his light off and closed his door and headed to Camilla’s to do the same. Mr. and Mrs. Overton should be home in two hours, so I grabbed my laptop from my bag and went into the guest room. Turning my laptop on, I saw the low battery notification pop up, so I went to retrieve my charger. I plugged it into the outlet by the nightstand and when I glanced up I noticed something strange on the bedside table.  

There was an old photo of a woman and a man holding hands outside of a small home. The woman looked exactly like my mother. “This can’t be,” I whispered in astonishment. Picking up my phone, I pulled up a picture of my young mother from her Facebook page and put the pictures side by side. There was no question. That woman was my mother.

“Who is that man?” I questioned aloud. He definitely wasn’t my father. I flipped the image to see if anything had been written on the back. In small, neat handwriting were the words: Anna and I outside our new house, July 16, 1984. Nothing was said about the man’s name, but it was obvious he and my mother must have been married. As far as I knew, my mother had never married before my father. What does this mean?

I heard the front door slam closed, indicating Mr. and Mrs. Overton were home. Rushing down the stairs, photo in hand, I was determined to question them. “What is the meaning of this? Why do you have a picture of my mother and some man?” I asked hysterically. Mr. and Mrs. Overton shared a confused look and Mr. Overton plucked the picture from my grasp.

“Your mother? This is my father James and my mother Anna before they had me. My mother left us when I was very young and I haven’t seen her since,” he explained.

“That’s impossible! That woman is without a doubt my mother, Anna Janssen!” I yelled. Mr. Overton seemed even more confused by my outburst. I could tell he didn’t believe me, so I showed him the picture on my phone.

“Look! This is my mother when she was young. They look exactly the same.” His jaw dropped and his eyes widened in shock at the resemblance.

“Impossible,” he whispered. He looked at me and I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. The room fell into a stunned silence as Mrs. Overton comforted her husband and I ran my hand down my face. My phone rang suddenly and my mother’s name appeared on the screen.

“It’s my mother,” I told them. They still looked shaken, but Mrs. Overton encouraged me to answer it. Answering the call, I brought the phone to my ear, took a deep breath, and whispered, “Hello?”

“Beth? What’s wrong, honey? You sound upset,” she replied in a concerned voice. I didn’t know how to reply. I was unsure if I should question her or leave the matter up to Mr. and Mrs. Overton.

I glanced at them and Mr. Overton asked softly, “Can you tell her to come here? I’d like to ask a few questions as well, if you don’t mind.” I nodded and my mother repeated her questions, her voice rising in worry.

“Mom, I need you to come to the Overton’s. We need to talk about something. It’s really important,” I explained.

“Sure, but what’s this about? Are you alright?” she asked.

I took a deep breath and replied, “I’m fine, I promise. I’ll explain everything when you get here.” We exchanged goodbyes and I hung up. “She’s on her way,” I told Mr. Overton. He smiled weakly and sat on the couch, loosening his tie.

“Why don’t I make some refreshments, huh? Would you like some coffee or tea, Beth?” Mrs. Overton asked with a gentle smile. I nodded and she exited the room, leaving me alone with Mr. Overton.

Silence once again filled the room and it seemed to suffocate me. I wanted to speak, to ask Mr. Overton so many questions, but I whenever I opened my mouth, not a single sound would escape. Mr. Overton seemed to be going through the same problem, and the only sound came from Mrs. Overton making our drinks in the kitchen. I stared at the front door, willing my mother to appear so we could clear up the confusion.

Mrs. Overton had just come into the living room with our drinks when a car pulled up the driveway. We stared anxiously at the door, fearing the conversation that would take place once she entered the home. Three soft knocks sounded through the living room and I hesitantly approached the door. I opened it to see the concerned face of my mom who smiled in relief at the sight of me.

“Jesus, you had me so worried! What was it you wanted to talk about, dear?” she asked, crossing the threshold into the house. I shut the door behind her and led her to the living room where Mr. and Mrs. Overton were sat on the couch.

“Well, Mom, actually,” I directed my attention to Mr. Overton, “would you like to start or should I?”

He shook his head nervously and replied, “No I think you should begin.”

“Alright then, where do I start?” I said. I took the picture from the coffee table and held it out to my mother. “Right. First off, why didn’t you tell me you were previously married?” I questioned.

She seemed confused by my accusation but once she saw the picture, pure terror coated her face. She was speechless and tears began to form in her eyes. “I never thought…I never thought I’d see this picture again. Where did you find it?” she asked as tears began to stream down her face.

“Mr. Overton had it in his guest bedroom. He said the picture was of his mother and father before they had him,” I explained. My mom whipped her head up and stared at Mr. Overton in shock.

“No…it can’t be. Terrence?” she cried. All eyes were on Mr. Overton who refused to look at my mother. He took a few deep breaths and on the final one, stood up and faced my mom.

“My name is Terrance Overton, son of James and Anna Overton. My mom left when I was a small child, and I’ve never seen her since,” he said shakily. His wife stood next to him for support and our attention shifted to my mom once again. She gasped and more tears escaped as she fell to the floor in a sobbing mess. I approached her huddled form on the floor and rubbed her back, trying to calm her down enough to speak.

She looked up at Mr. Overton in awe, as if he was the most precious jewel she had ever seen. “Terrance, my baby! I haven’t seen you in so long. You’re all grown up!” she exclaimed. Mr. Overton didn’t offer even the slightest of smiles; instead, a look of hurt crossed his pale face. I was outraged by this knowledge. How could she leave her child? How could she not tell me that I had a brother?

“Mom, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you leave him?” I demanded. She looked up at me in shock, almost like she forgot I was here, and reached up to caress my face.

“I married James in the summer of 1984. We were young, only 19, and when we met, there was an instant connection. We had been married for three years when I got pregnant with Terrance. It was the happiest day of our lives when I gave birth to you,” she looked at Mr. Overton as she said this. “Everything was perfect for the first five years of his life until James lost his job at the factory. Homelife was stressful while he was searching for a job. We barely saw each other and when we did, we were arguing. Eventually we grew apart and at this time, your father, Oliver, had just moved to the area and began working at the office,” she told me. I gasped, knowing where she was going with this.

“You cheated on him with Dad?” I whispered. She nodded with shame and regret filled her watery eyes.

“Your father and I were like love struck teenagers. Whenever I was with him, all my problems disappeared and I felt free. I knew what we were doing was wrong but I couldn’t stay away from Oliver, I loved him too much. Not long after we started dating, I got pregnant with Beth and James found out. He was furious, as expected, and kicked me out. He filed for divorce and told me that he would never allow me to see Terrance again,” she said tiredly. I heard Mr. Overton crying and the soft words of comfort his wife provided.

I turned to face him with a watery smile of my own and said, “This is never how I would have imagined it, but I always wanted a brother. To think that we’ve lived in the same neighborhood for the past six years is even wilder.” His tears seemed to stop almost instantly as he raised his head and gave me a small grin.

“I always wanted a brother, too, but I guess I’ll have to settle for a sister,” he replied. That got a laugh from everyone and the tension slowly dissipated . I couldn’t wait to get to know my brother and his amazing family, and to reunite him with our mother.