Even Unhyphenated
Sariah
“Oh my God. I hate the DMV and records and all the official bullshit.” I drop my purse on the island and head to the fridge. I’m not hungry. I’m annoyed and want to munch.
I blame the baby.
And his father.
“What happened?” Cian slides in behind me, wrapping a large palm over my belly, cradling our son.
“The whole process is freaking miserable. Be glad you aren’t a woman.
It’s a freaking unending loop. You need this piece of paper to get this new one.
The new one can’t have a vowel in it or it’s disqualified, and then you have to get the first one turned inside out in an origami owl.
But, if you do that, you start all over.
” I grit my teeth and growl at my husband.
He had another surgery this week, the last of all the things from the Laotians. How he managed to come out uninjured from Promised Land, I’ll never know.
He wants all the medical stuff done before the baby’s born. I know there will be pictures. His sister alone will provide enough to cover all the walls in our home. It’s evidenced by our wedding photos, ones of my daughter hang gliding—again, Eleanor, the siblings, Rosie. Our family surrounds us.
But he says it’s also being able to take care of us without needing to be taken care of.
“I’ve heard it’s ridiculous.”
“You can say that again.” I huff.
“I’ve heard it’s—”
“It’s a figure of speech.” I turn in his arms, press up to my toes, and kiss his cheek.
“How important is this to you?”
“It’s your choice, Angel. How important is it to you?”
I scrunch my face and growl again.
He merely chuckles.
I sigh. “Really important, but does it have to be so freaking hard?”
“What’s hard?” My daughter and her impeccable timing…
“Changing my name.”
She’s growing up. Some of the softness in her face is changing. I’m so unprepared for this.
She lifts her chin. “Why?”
“Paperwork. Stupid government paperwork.”
“You could just call yourself a Murphy.”
As if it was that easy.
“I do,” she admits quietly.
Cian turns me in his arms, so we face her. “You do?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “Sometimes.”
“Renée, I’d be honored. Is it something you want?”
My daughter looks at me before looking at Cian and standing a bit taller. “I love Randy and don’t want to lose him, but—” she pauses. “Yes.”
“Be right back.” Cian squeezes my waist and heads to our room before returning with a legal envelope. He pulls out a set of documents, placing the bound paper on the island in front of her.
My daughter reads for a moment before looking up between him and me.
“These adoption papers say Cian Ocotea Murphy. You changed your name?”
“Yeah, the process is ridiculous. And that was just the middle name.”
I turn to the man who gives and gives and gives. “You took Randy’s name?”
“Couldn’t have my wife and daughter being Ocotea Murphys—even unhyphenated—and me being the only one who wasn’t, now could I?”
My mouth refuses to close.
“These papers were signed before you were married,” Renée stares at the paperwork and continues dropping her bombs.
Cian reaches in the envelope and pulls out another set. He slides them her way.
She flips through them before glancing up at him.
“These had to be voided and redrawn when I changed my name. I worried it might nullify them if I didn’t.”
My daughter looks stunned. “This—”
I have no idea what she would say. She plants herself in Ci’s chest and sobs. “You love me?”
“With all my heart, firecracker.”
“And you want me to be a Murphy?”
“You’re mine with or without my last name. Your choice.” She pulls back and for the second time, I see him do the strangest thing. He boops her nose. “But if I get to choose? Yes, I want you to be a Murphy.”
I blame the pregnancy hormones, but they’re just a scapegoat. The tears flow watching the man I’ve always loved… be for my daughter what she’s always needed. What she’s always deserved.
It’s hours later when I see what she saw. The first papers were dated before she turned fourteen.