On the drive home that night, Greg asked me something.
“Do you think she’ll get tested?”
I looked out the window at the dark highway.
“I don’t know,” I said. “That’s her choice to make. Not ours.”
He nodded slowly.
“Not ours,” he repeated, like he was learning a new word.
Sophie called us two weeks later. She’d been to see a genetic counselor at the university health center. She’d done a lot of reading. She’d talked to her friends, and her roommate, and her favorite professor.
“I’m not getting tested,” she said. “Not yet. Maybe not for a long time. The counselor said a lot of people wait. Some people never do it. I want to finish school first. I want to live my life for a while without knowing. And when I’m ready, I’ll decide.”
“That sounds very wise,” Greg said.
“I’m a very wise person,” Sophie said. “I get it from Mom.”
Elliot came for Thanksgiving.
He showed up on our front porch on Wednesday afternoon with a pecan pie from a fancy bakery in Tampa and a bottle of wine that probably cost more than our turkey. He stood there on the doormat looking nervous, like a kid on his first day of school.
Greg opened the door.
For a second, they just looked at each other. The same eyes. The same jaw. The same cowlick.
Then Greg pulled his brother into a hug so hard that the pie almost ended up on the porch.
“Thank you,” I heard Greg say into his shoulder. “Thank you for not listening to me.”
“Somebody had to,” Elliot said.
Sophie took one look at her uncle and burst out laughing.
“Oh my God,” she said. “There’s two of you. There’s actually two of you.”
That Thanksgiving was the loudest one we’d had in years. Lynn came with her husband and her kids. Patty came over for pie. Elliot told embarrassing stories about Raymond Cole’s terrible singing voice, and Greg laughed so hard he cried, and I realized it was the first time he’d ever heard a single funny story about his own father.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I found Greg and Elliot sitting together on the back porch in the cold, looking at old photographs Elliot had brought. Raymond Cole as a young man in the Navy. Raymond Cole fishing on a lake in Ohio. Raymond Cole holding a baby that might have been Elliot. And one very old photograph, black and white and torn at the corner, of a tall young man holding a little boy in a pair of overalls on his knee.
“That’s you,” Elliot said quietly. “Mom found it in his things after he died. He kept it in his wallet for thirty years. She never knew who the boy was.”
Greg held that photo in his shaking hand for a long, long time.
I went back inside and left them alone.
Things have been hard since then. I won’t lie to you about that. Greg retired in January. Some days are good. Some days are very bad. Some days he gets angry and says things that aren’t really him, and then he cries and apologizes for an hour. Some days he drops his coffee cup three times before nine in the morning, and we both just laugh and get the mop.
We bought plastic cups. Lots of them.
We go to a support group on Tuesday nights at the hospital. We’ve met other families who are walking the same road. A man named Pete whose wife was diagnosed at forty. A young woman named Carmen who is taking care of her father the way Carol once took care of Raymond. We sit in a circle of folding chairs and drink bad coffee and tell each other the truth.
And every single Sunday, June calls me from Oregon.
“How’s my boy?” she always asks. She calls Greg “my boy” now, even though she’s never met him.
“He’s fine,” I tell her. “Some days he’s fine. Some days he’s not.”
“Well,” she always says. “That’s marriage, sweetheart. That’s just marriage.”
Sophia Rivers is an experienced News Content Editor with a sharp eye for detail and a passion for delivering accurate and engaging news stories. At TheArchivists, she specializes in curating, editing, and presenting news content that informs and resonates with a global audience.
Sophia holds a degree in Journalism from the University of Toronto, where she developed her skills in news reporting, media ethics, and digital journalism. Her expertise lies in identifying key stories, crafting compelling narratives, and ensuring journalistic integrity in every piece she edits.
Known for her precision and dedication to the truth, Sophia thrives in the fast-paced world of news editing. At TheArchivists, she focuses on producing high-quality news content that keeps readers informed while maintaining a balanced and insightful perspective.
With a commitment to delivering impactful journalism, Sophia is passionate about bringing clarity to complex issues and amplifying voices that matter. Her work reflects her belief in the power of news to shape conversations and inspire change.