Margaret felt too formal.
Mom felt impossible.
So he called me Margaret.
One evening, he phoned.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“What name did you give me?”
I closed my eyes.
“Benjamin.”
Silence.
“I had a name?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hold me?”
My throat tightened.
“No. They never let me.”
He cried quietly.
“So you didn’t give me away.”
“No.”
“I need to hear you say it.”
“I did not give you away.”
PART 30 — CHRISTOPHER
Christopher had lost a brother without knowing it.
Then gained one at fifty-two.
He handled the discovery differently.
He invited Aaron fishing.
The first trip was awkward.
The second was less awkward.
Months later, they started texting about baseball.
Ordinary relationships formed around extraordinary facts.
PART 31 — THE BLUE SWIMSUIT
I nearly threw away the blue swimsuit.
Then I stopped.
The swimsuit had not caused anything.
My body had not caused anything.
My scar had not caused anything.
