His dad took another sip of iced tea.

“You were,” Myron said.

“No, not really. Of course, when he was young, we were all a bigger part of his life.”

“So what changed that?”

Dad smiled. “You blame Kitty.”

Myron said nothing.

“Do you think you and Terese will have children?” Dad asked.

The subject change threw him. Myron wasn’t sure exactly how to reply. “It’s a delicate question,” he said slowly. Terese couldn’t have any more children. He had not told his parents about this yet because, until he got her to the right doctors, he still couldn’t accept it himself. Either way, this was not the time to raise the issue. “We’re on the old side, but who knows.”

“Well, either way, let me tell you something about parenting, something none of those self-help books or parenting magazines will tell you.” Dad turned and leaned in closer. “We parents grossly overestimate our importance.”

“You’re being modest.”

“No, I’m not. I know you think that your mother and I are the most amazing parents. I’m glad. I really am. Maybe for you, we were, though you’ve blocked out a lot of the bad.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not going to rehash my mistakes right now. That’s not the point anyway. We were good parents, I guess. Most are. Most are trying their best and if they make mistakes, it’s from trying too hard. But the truth is, we parents are at the most, say, auto mechanics. We can tune up the car and make sure it has the proper fluids. We can keep it running, check the oil, make sure it is road ready. But the car is still the car. When the car comes in, it’s already a Jaguar or Toyota or Prius. You can’t turn a Toyota into a Jaguar.”

Myron made a face. “A Toyota into a Jaguar?”

“You know what I mean. I know the analogy isn’t the best and now that I think about it, it doesn’t really hold because it sounds like a judgment, like the Jaguar is better than the Toyota or something. It is not. It’s just different with different needs. Some kids come out shy, some are outgoing, some are bookish, some are jocks, whatever. The way we raise you doesn’t really have much to do with it. Sure we can instill values and all that, but we usually mess up when we try to change what is already there.”

“When you try,” Myron added, “to turn the Toyota into the Jaguar?”

“Don’t be a wise guy.”

Not long ago, before running off to Angola and under very different circumstances, Terese had made this exact same argument to him. Nature over nurture, she insisted. Her argument was both a comfort and a chill, but in this case, with his father sitting on the deck with him, Myron wasn’t really buying it.

“Brad wasn’t meant to stay at home or settle down,” his father said. “He was always itching to escape. He was meant to wander. A nomad, like his ancestors, I guess. So your mother and I let him go. When you were kids, you were both amazing athletes. You thrived on competition. Brad didn’t. He hated it. That doesn’t make him less or more, just different. God, I’m tired. Enough. I assume you have a very good reason for trying to find your brother after all these years?”