We went and got a coffee while Dr. Gupta reviewed the video again and read through the medical file. He joined us in the cafeteria and gave me back the DVD. He showed us the report from the Russians.

“So much depends on the language they use, the nuance, if they’re trying to hide or mask a condition,” he said. “But he looks like he is hitting his milestones for development at his age. His gross and fine motor skills, his eye contact, all are good.”

I read through the medical report as well. No serious illnesses, no disability diagnosed. Doesn’t mean it’s not there, just not diagnosed. But doesn’t he look fine? And act fine?

Dr. Gupta told us he would write the medical report that afternoon, and he thought this was a healthy child (hurray). Despite his reassurances, I felt my anxiety rise.

“You’re a songwriter, yes?” he asked me as he stood. “‘Shaking Up My Soul’ and ‘Sudden’ were two of yours?”

I saw Danielle blush slightly.

“Yes,” I said.

“Ah. My daughter is interested in songwriting. She’s in a band. They’ve gotten a few gigs around town.”

I nodded. Austin: where everyone is in a band or knows someone in a band. A favor, for a favor. “Well, I’d be happy to talk to her.”

“Oh, that would be great. I can get your email address from Danielle.”

I just nodded, and Dr. Gupta walked off.

“Sorry,” Danielle said. “I thought you wouldn’t mind, and that way he let us watch the video with him. You won’t have a sleepless night wondering what his opinion will be.”

I glanced back at the Russian report. Under a section for known history before being at the orphanage, it reads: mother admitted to hospital, gave birth, left him at hospital; mother was young and healthy, this was her second pregnancy, and she had given birth once before.

Sasha would have a blood sibling. I wonder, Why give Sasha up? Did she give up her first baby, too? Where was the father? Was he involved in the decision, or did she make this wrenching choice all alone? Did this father care? Or was he entirely out of the picture? Did they love each other? Did it matter? No, it didn’t.

Never ask me. That applied to this young woman, too. She’d made her choice.

“If we accept Sasha,” Kyle said quietly, “we just send an email, right?”

“And a signed form. A scanned version and then the paper version. I’ll handle that,” Danielle said.

“And then we go to Russia to see him?” I asked.

“The government has to accept your acceptance,” Danielle said, and I didn’t have to look at Kyle to see his eye roll as we continued down the endless path of paperwork. “Then they will send us an invitation date to go to Russia and meet Sasha.”