“Gillian—” I can hear the energy in his voice. He’s on speakerphone, I think. “There’s an early flight. I thought I’d just drive to the airport. I’m in the car now. Tell me if you want me to turn around.”

I’m amazed. This isn’t like him—so impulsive; romantic even.

“Don’t turn around,” I say, and I hear the faint smile in his voice as he says, “Okay, I won’t.”

Sam’s waiting in the corridor, kicking one shoe against the heel of the other.

“Oliver’s coming,” I tell him, still a little dazed from the news.

“Here? Today?”

I nod.

“Does he want to meet Lorna too?”

“I…maybe,” I say. Do I? Will I?

Downstairs the air smells of budget inn breakfasts: coffee and the hot, sweet smell of processed baked goods. We take a seat, and Sam pulls strips of flaky dough off his pre-packaged croissant and looks around, wide-eyed.

“How are you doing, Sam?”

He looks at me.

“You mean…you mean like with the stuff in my head?”

“Yes,” I say. “And in general.”

He looks down.

“Okay. Honestly I think maybe it’s worse at home. It’s like…it’s like my mind doesn’t have a map of things here yet so it doesn’t know yet exactly what orders to give.”

I nod.

“Mom and I talked about it last night,” he says. “About how it might be OCD, maybe. I’ve heard of OCD. But I guess I thought it was something different.”

I know what he means, I think I felt the same way. Maybe I almost forgot it was a real condition, a real problem, and not just something people say. How many times has Oliver teased me for being “so OCD” about how I stack the dishwasher?

“And how are you feeling about…the rest?” I say.

Sam ducks his head.

“I feel bad about what I said to Grandma. But I hate that she lied,” he says “I wish she hadn’t lied.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I don’t feel great about it either, Sam. But I guess she and your grandpa were probably just doing what they thought was best. Adults do make mistakes, you know. Sometimes big ones.”

Sam gives me a look that I interpret as, you can say that again.

“I’m kind of angry at Mom too, though,” he says. “She made everyone so mad.”

I nod.

“I think she was feeling pretty mad, herself.”

Sam chews his croissant.

“I know you’re my real aunt still and everything. But…it’s weird, isn’t it?” He looks at me. “I mean, finding out you’re kind of not who you thought you were. Like you thought you were one person but it turns out you’re not exactly that person. Have you ever had anything like that happen?”