One person's death is
another person's luck.
— A Dahk Worwd
It was the beginning of February.
Claire and I had been together a little over a week. We spent most of it working on the house and working on her backstory as we got to know each other.
After a night of drinking games and assembling shitty furniture, we were still asleep when the phone rang.
I did my best to answer it. "Uhgahd."
An old lady's voice said, "Hello?"
"New day, who dis?"
"It's your grandmother. We need to talk."
Actually, it was Paula, from the BMV. She wanted to discuss something with Claire, but she wouldn't say what.
"Not on the phone," she said, as if the goddamn FBI was listening. Whatever.
I had her meet us at Doozy Donuts so I could grab breakfast while the two of them talked. I ordered a Hoosier Doozy. It's a monstrosity made of fried dough, rolled in sugar, filled with fudge, and glazed with caramel before being dusted with powdered sugar. Y'know. Health food.
Paula said, "I've got good news and bad news."
"Leth hear ih," I replied, more or less, as I brushed Doozie droppings off my shirt.
Paula handed Claire a birth certificate. She said, "I managed to get the name you wanted, but it isn't exactly the same."
I thought Claire was going to blow her top when she saw it.
"Hang on..."
Uh oh. "Whaffthamatta Craire?"
"This thing says I'm... CLARITY?!?"
"That's right," Paula said. "You can now legally use the name Clarity Rae Jenkins. I know you wanted it to be Clarissa, but Clarity is the best I could do."
"This name is an even bigger doozy than that donut, Shay."
"Wah ebber!" I said, while trying not to choke on the thing. "Ith juff a name. An' dith donuth's perdy gerrd."
"Fuck it. I'm still Claire. You're disgusting. Paula, what's the good news?"
"It's done," she said. "I found an infant in Michigan that died and the records weren't reconciled. The birth stayed in the county books and the Social Security file never closed out. Anyway, the paperwork's ready and everything in the system looks like the name's always been yours. This turned out to be pretty easy. Usually takes a lot longer, but we got lucky."
"One person's death is another person's luck. That's fuckin' dark."
"Ith a dahk worwd, Cwaire."
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Shay. Jesus."
"Wah EBBER!"
And that was that. I now had a favorite donut and Claire had a legit fake name. She was a few years older now, too. The birth certificate said she was born in Flint, Michigan, on August 9th, 1995.
I grabbed a couple more Doozies to go, before we headed to the BMV for her new ID. I forgot to warn her we still had to do that, and I had a feeling we'd be there a while.
I didn't mind.
I was happy as a clam, but not a Clamber.
She said, "What are we doing, Shay? Why do I need a legit driver's license for a fake name?"
"It's a legal identity now. Our whole thing is about selling stolen Bitcoin, remember? Gonna put that money in a bank account under your real name? I don't think so."
"Why waste our time at the fuckin' BMV though?"
"I need you to see the big picture. This thing you and I are starting? It has so much potential. You can't risk getting caught with a fake ID, but you can't use your real one either. What if a mark notices the name on your driver's license doesn't match what you told him?"
"How?"
"Let's say you're on a date and you get carded. Maybe the bartender reads the name on your ID out loud, and the mark says, 'Amber? I thought your name was Claire.' Details matter. We need to do this right."
"Got it. Thanks for giving me fuckin' clarity on that."