My grandfather, who is 76 years old, sewed blankets and sold them at the flea market so I could walk again – Then a motorcyclist arrived and said to me, "I've been looking for you for 20 years."

"It's really me."

"You told me my daughter was dead."

I grabbed the envelope.

***

Inside, there was a photo of my mother alongside a much younger Cole.

She was wearing a yellow floral dress. I recognized the fabric because scraps of it had been sewn into the duvet lying on my lap.

On the back, she had written:

"Cole and I. Five years later. Maybe this time we'll be brave."

She was wearing a yellow floral dress.

My hands began to tremble.

"What does 'five years later' mean?" I asked.

Neither man replied.

I looked at one and then the other. "Don't make me ask the question again. Grandpa, tell me."

Cole pointed at his grandfather. "He's the one who decided I wasn't good enough for your mother."

"You didn't have a stable job," said Grandpa. "No plans. You had nothing, Cole."

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