The alert comes, waking him from a deep sleep where he dreams of snow. An email notification on his phone screen. He taps it.

Hello, Grant. Yes, I am your biological father. It’s nice to hear from you, but as I am sure you understand, you are still legally a child and so I cannot just contact you without your parents knowing or permission. But I hope they will forgive me as I can tell you are scared or tense in your email and I want to put your mind at ease. One of the pictures you sent does mean something to me.

The photo of the woman in the rain is Anya, as I called her. Your birth mother, Anna Averina. She was a model in Saint Petersburg and then Paris for a short while, where I met her and knew her well. Yes, it’s a stock photo, but it is her in it. That was the work she did there. Then she came home to Russia. She was homesick and had problems. She was sick in the mind. I don’t know who the pictures of the house and of the cat belong to. Those mean nothing to me. They are not of places where I knew Anya to live, but I only knew her in Saint Petersburg and a little in Paris where I met her and my work took me. She came back to Russia when I did, but I was married, and my wife and I worked out our problems and got back together. This made Anya sad especially after she found out she was pregnant. She decided to have the baby (you) and to give it up. I was not part of her decision, but I do believe she did the right thing and am glad you were taken by an American family. It was all for the best. I wish you well.

Grant reads the email and then writes back: Where is Anya my mother now? Why would she send me these pictures with no explanation?

He almost does not expect an answer, but he gets one five minutes later: I do not know answers to your question and we cannot talk again.

Something cold snaps in Grant. He writes: Yes, you will tell me. If I can find you, I can find your wife and your sons—my brothers. Do they know about me? Maybe they would like to know. I want to know who would send me these pictures. Is it her?

The email comes faster than he expects: My wife knows about you. I did not send those pictures. I can’t think of anyone who would.

Grant responds: What about my mother?

I don’t know where she is and I cannot contact her. She asked me to never contact her again. I have respected that.