I think back to everything that’s happened since the accident. I haven’t seen my mother since Florida. But that doesn’t mean she’s stopped trying to contact me—especially after my grandmother died. She passed about six months after I saw her, and it turns out she did leave everything to me. Not that she had much, but my mother wants every penny she can get to feed her addiction.
And keeping on the topic of annoyances of my life, Rat Boy and Adrianna finally got what was coming to them. After their little stunt, they both ended up getting expelled. As suspected, Rat Boy squealed and provided text messages as evidence to drag Adrianna down with him.
At the complete opposite end of the annoyance spectrum, Delilah graduated with me and Olivia, the three of us throwing our caps up in the air side by side. But while Olivia and I stayed in Georgia, Delilah got accepted into a great medical school out on the West Coast. The two girls talk at least once a week over FaceTime. It used to be more, but as they are both ending their fourth year it’s almost impossible to even squeeze in one FaceTime with how busy they are.
“The team is doing great this year. You’re still able to make it to the championship game if we make it, right?” I ask. I know her schedule is hectic and changing day by day, but she promised she’d be there.
She smiles. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I give her an appreciative smile. “Thanks, baby. I know you’re superbusy with clinical rotations, so it means a lot. How were your kids today?” I ask, knowing she’s grown attached to some of the kids at the hospital, having her favorites.
Her smile depletes. “Carter isn’t doing so well,” she admits sadly.
Carter is a cute little blond-headed boy who’s managed to capture her heart. The five-year-old has been having some trouble with one of his heart valves and doctors are trying their best to get him better. I know Olivia feels a connection there, and it’s crushing her to see the kid get sicker and sicker.
Olivia continues to talk about Carter and his declining health, as well as other things that happened at the hospital today. Now I understand why she wasn’t having the greatest of days. I do my best to try to comfort her.
“Anyway.” She sighs, exhausted, seemingly mentally shaking off the bad day and putting on a smile for me. “How was your day?”
“Good,” I admit enthusiastically. “Really good, actually.” I hope my good news also puts her in a good mood.
She gives me a strange but amused look at my sudden giddy behavior.
Excited, I hop up from the table and grab the piece of mail addressed to me on the counter and bring it over to the table. “I got something in the mail today,” I state, sliding the envelope across the table to her.
She picks it up, her eyes immediately landing on the wordsDepartment of Motor Vehicles. “What’s this?” she asks, frowning. Then her eyes scan who the envelope is addressed to. “Bronx!” she scolds me, her eyes wide. “You can’t just give the DMV my nickname!”
I bite back a laugh, knowing her brain must be going haywire right now readingBronx Finch, thinking I did something to mess everything up and the DMV really screwed up big-time by letting it slide. But that’s not the case at all.
A couple of months ago I started the process of legally changing my last name, wanting it to finally have some meaning. So what better than Finch?
I laugh, unable to suppress it any longer. “No. It’smyname.”
She looks at me, more confused than before, and I can’t help but smile.
“I changed my last name,” I explain.
“You what?” she breathes in disbelief, looking at me as if I’m playing some kind of weird prank on her.
My grin deepens. “Open it,” I instruct, nodding to the envelope.
Slowly, almost cautiously, she peels open the envelope and plucks out my new driver’s license, gawking at it.
A dozen emotions scroll across her face, and I lean over the table, taking the plastic card from her and setting it off to the side. I lace our fingers together before speaking. “Don’t be mad,” I say, suddenly feeling nervous.
I remember when I came home with a tattoo of a finch. I had the little bird permanently perched on top of the lastNin the UNKNOWN tattoo splayed across my back, making the word less significant by proclaiming my love for the girl who changed my life and helped erase the meaning of that tattoo. But I’d be lying if I said that Olivia didn’t have a mild freak-out over it, claiming tattoos are an automatic curse for disaster in relationships. It’s grown on her though, thank god, and after the freak-out stage she found it sweet.
“Why would you change your name?” she asks, her head adorably tilting to the side in confusion.
I shrug, playing with her fingers. “I want a last name that means something. I’ve wanted to change it for a while now, but I never knew what to change it to,” I admit softly, glancing up to catch her staring at me with understanding. “I know finches are sort of our thing, and they symbolize joy and better days ahead, and that’s what I want,” I explain. “A fresh start.” Without the weight of my last name—which is connected to the person I used to be—dragging me down.
She gives me a thoughtful smile, her eyes glossy as she stands up from her chair and rounds the table to take a seat on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. I gladly accept her, holding her tight and kissing her lips.
“I love it,” she whispers against my mouth, approving my new, legal last name.
“Good,” I whisper back.
We finish dinner and begin to clean up.
