Hi. I’m Laurie.

My mom and I always moved around a lot. I was never really sure why, growing up, and I’m not really sure to this day. Regardless, I turned out alright. Every new town always meant a new house, new school, new friends. It also meant a new phone book.

Every time we got to a new town, I would take out the white pages, flip to the L’s, and look. I would look for his name: Allen Lyons. That’s all I knew of him. A name. His name. My name. He was never there, though. Not that I would’ve done anything if I had found this random person named Allen Lyons. Or maybe I would have, who knows?

The funny part about all those times I went flipping through those tissue thin sheets is it was all, ALL in vain. Allen Lyons was never a part of me. He was never who I thought he was.

One camping trip, about 10 years ago, my aunt spilled the beans. She didn’t just spill the beans, though. She spilled the beans and wiped them all over the white couch that was my mom’s entire . I never saw the fallout that inevitably came after my aunt told me that my entire backstory was a lie, but I know it was there. As it turns out, Allen Lyons was not my dad. As it turns out, Allen Lyons was a tall, skinny red-head who was verbally and emotionally abusive. As it turns out, my mom cheated on him during their eight month marriage.

My dad. The one that made me but doesn’t actually know he made me? He has no name. He has no face. All I know is he was the (hot) Puerto Rican gym coach at the high school in a town where I eventually spent time poring through a phone book, moving into a new house, checking in at a new school, and making new friends.

After my mom got married in 1997, I was no longer related to anyone named ‘Lyons.’ So yeah, my name is Laurie Lyons. And I fucking love it.