I posted it on Facebook right away and wrote:
Sunday afternoon with my favorite grandpa.
Not even ten minutes had passed when I received a message on Messenger.
From a woman I didn’t know.
Her profile name was Susan Miller.
I read the message and laughed.
Leave that house. Now. He is not the man you were told he is.
I assumed it was some kind of scam.
I replied:
“Who are you?”
The response came immediately.
Ask George if he remembers April 17, 1989.
My smile disappeared.
I looked at Grandpa.
He was standing by the sink washing a cup.
“Grandpa, does April 17, 1989 mean anything to you?”
The cup stopped in his hand.
For several seconds, he didn’t move.
Then he slowly turned toward me.
“Where did you hear that date?”
I hadn’t expected that reaction.
“Some woman messaged me.”
Grandpa’s face changed.
“What woman?”
I showed him the profile.
He saw only the name.
And grabbed the back of a chair.
“Susan?”
That was the moment I realized he knew her.
“Grandpa, who is she?”
He didn’t answer.
My phone vibrated again.
Another message.
This time, it was a photograph.
I opened it.
An old, faded image.
