“He did seem like a nice young man.”

I stared at my grandfather until he was forced to turn his head. “You knew him?”

“We met him a few times. Your mother brought him over to the house.”

“You’re telling me you knew my father?”

“I can’t say we knew him,” he said hastily. “We met him, that’s all, on a couple of occasions.”

“Grandma too?”

“Of course.”

“But why did you never mention it?”

My grandfather spread his hands on his knees. He leaned his weight forward on his arms, his shoulders up around his ears. “I guess because your mother had buried the whole thing pretty deep. He made his decision, and she had to make hers. It wasn’t easy. In order to carry through with it and build a life for herself, she had to decide he didn’t exist for her. So we followed suit.”

“And what about me?” It came out shrill and babyish. “Didn’t anyone think about me?”

“We were thinking about you. All the time.”

“How could you, when I was only an idea?”

“Don’t be hard on her, Maddy. Your mother’s done a first-rate job. She did tell you.”

“The bare facts of the matter, yes. I always said when I was eighteen I would track him down.”

“How old are you now?” As if he didn’t know.

“Sixteen and two months.”

He gave me a long look.

“Sixteen and two months, with cancer,” I said.

“So why don’t you do it now?”

It was like a conversation in a dream. “Could I really do that?”

“You’re asking me?” Grandpa smiled. “I thought you were the Internet generation.”

“I mean could I do it, you know, with Mom and everything?”

After a while he said: “Your mother has enough to worry about. It would stir the whole mess up again for her.” Another pause. “If she knew.”

Some serious yoga was taking place in the center of the park. Two men in shorts were offering their bodies to the sky. All at once my grandfather’s head swiveled around.

“Listen to me, Maddy.” For an easygoing person, he could drop into command mode just like that. “This is very important.” He raised one knotty forefinger. “Sixteen years is a long time. You’d have to be prepared for anything. Anything. He could decide not to reply. He could be unpleasant.”

“Got it,” I said.

“He could be dead.”

I didn’t look away. “All right, already.”

“He could have a family now and not want to hear from you.”

That stopped me for a minute. I said severely: “Listen, Grandpa. Think about it. What have I got to lose?”

He sat back. “A lot.”

“But you were the one who said I should find him!”

“You might have to give up an idea you have about him.”

“Big deal.” I snorted. “So I lose an idea? Add it to the list.”