I was in the kitchen, eating some warmed-up lasagna, when my parents and Mary K. came home late that afternoon. They all stared at me as if they had come home to find a stranger in their kitchen.

"Morgan," said my dad, clearing his throat. His eyes looked red rimmed, his face drawn and older than this morning. His thinning black hair was brushed tightly against his scalp, too long on the ends. His thick, wire-rimmed glasses gave him an owlish look.

"Yes?" I said, marveling at the cold steadiness of my of my dad to ask.

It was such a ludicrous question, but it was so like my dad to ask.

"Well, let's see," I said coolly, not looking at him. "I just found out I was adopted. I've been sitting here realizing you've both been lying to me my whole life." I shrugged. "Other than that, I'm fine."

Mary K. looked like she was about to burst into tears. In fact, she looked like she had been crying all morning.

"Morgan," said my mom. "Maybe we made the wrong decision in not telling you. But we had our reasons. We love you, and we're still your parents."

I couldn't stay cool any longer. "Your reasons?" I exclaimed. "You had good reasons for not telling me the most important to of my life? There are no good reasons for that!"

"Morgan, stop," Mary K. said, her voice wobbling. "We're a family. I just want you to be my sister." She started crying, and I felt my own throat tighten.

"I want you to be my sister, too," I said, standing up. "But I don't know what's going on anymore—what's real and what's not."

Mary K. burst into real sobs and threw herself on Dad's shoulder.

Mom tried to come over to me, to take me in her arms, but I backed away. I couldn't stand her touch right at that second. She looked stricken.

"Look, let's not say anything right now," Dad said. "We need some time. We've all had a shock. Please, Morgan, just hear me on one thing: Your mother and I have two daughters who we love more than anything in the world. Two daughters."