Last One Standing (wattys2017) (UNDER CONSTRUCTION)

In The City of Angels

"I had my dad take a look at that test for you." Toby threw a manila folder on my dresser between my laptop and vase, an anxious smile playing at his thin lips. I tore my eyes away from them quickly, fuzzy memories of Monday afternoon trying to force the way to the surface.

"Did he run the DNA test on it?" I asked, pressing my palms down against the cold wood and taking in my best friend's expression for any indication of what the results might have been.

"He actually ran the fingerprints on it." Toby explained, taking a piece of paper from the file and setting it on top of the folder. "After a lot of work, a match finally came up."

A whirlwind of emotions thrashed around in me at his answer, "Really?"

Toby grinned, handing me the sheet of printer paper. There wasn't much on it. A phone number, email, and address lay under a small blurred and pixelated picture in the top corner of the page.

"Emily Garner." the name sounded weird coming off my lips, "This is my mother?"

My best friend nodded, avoiding direct eye contact, "That's her."

I sat at my desk in fear my knees might buckle under me and I'd collapse in shock. I was holding the key to getting a hold of my mother; the key to getting answers to all the questions that had been swirling around in my head for the last couple weeks.

I wanted to act on impulse as I usually did. Not once in my life had I sat and contemplated what I was doing, I had always just done it. This time I couldn't find it in me to pick up my phone and call the number.

There were hundreds of possibilities of how it might turn out. She might hang up the moment I explained who I was. She could tell me to never speak to her again, or ignore me all together and block my number.

"Alex? You doing okay?" Toby outstretched his arm and rested it on my shoulder, eying the open door of my bedroom to be sure one of my brother's wasn't passing by.

"I. . . I don't know." I really didn't.

"Do you want to talk?" he offered an encouraging smile.

"I'm scared to call her." I confessed, tucking my hair behind my ear nervously, "What if she doesn't want to talk to me?"

Toby leaned into the chair, a sad smile on his face.

"Why wouldn't she want to talk to you, Alex? You're amazing." he stated, squeezing my hand.

"She obviously gave me up for a reason, Toby. What if . . . what if she didn't want anything to do with me? What if she never wanted me to contact her and that's why Dad never talked to me about it?" I could feel my chest starting to tighten as I struggled to catch my breath; I was starting to hyperventilate.

"Get out of your head. What happened to the Alex that just does it without thinking of the consequences? What happened to the girl that never had enough of a filter to think about what she was saying or doing before she did it?" he grasped my hand tightly in his own, "I need that Alex right now."

I took in a deep, calming breath, "I don't know what to do, Toby."

He shifted slightly and brought one hand up so it was resting against my temple and laid the other above my heart.

"Stop listening to this," he patted the side of my head, "and listen to your heart. The heart can be more deceiving, but it knows what's best for you in the end."

*

Agreeing to attempt a summer job was quite possibly the stupidest decision I had made; and Toby held me to it.