“I won’t.”
“Good. Do you want to ask him about the photograph?”
I glanced again at my mother’s handwriting.
Not yet, I thought.
Then I said, “Yes.”
Daniel offered to arrange a brief meeting in a public place, with him present if I wanted.
I considered the suggestion, then shook my head.
“I don’t want to turn this into another confrontation. I can ask him one question.”
“You can,” Daniel said. “And you can end the conversation whenever you need to.”
The next morning, Alexander agreed to meet me at the clinic where I had my prenatal appointments.
The waiting area was quiet between scheduled visits, and I chose a table near the window where the pale winter sun fell across the floor.
Alexander arrived alone.
He looked as though he had slept badly, though his suit was neat and his hair carefully combed.
For a moment, neither of us knew how to greet each other.
