She told me on the last day, when she knew she was going.

She gave me a key to a safety deposit box, and inside it was my birth certificate, with his name and his signature on the line for the father.

And bank records.

Payments, every month, my whole life.

The money that paid for my schooling, for our apartment, for everything.” Her voice cracked.

“I had never known where it came from.

My mother would never tell me.