Now I understood something.
I had been surviving.
There is a difference.
The next person I called was my younger sister.
She answered:
“What happened?”
“How do you know something happened?”
“You called after nine.”
I forwarded Adrian’s invitation.
She read it.
Then laughed.
“Oh, he wants to show off.”
“Apparently.”
“Vanessa Cole.”
“Apparently.”
“Do we hate her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Pause.
“Do we hate him?”
“Depends on the day.”
“Excellent.”
Then she said:
“You should go.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not taking four children into a Christmas dinner like exhibits in a courtroom.”
“Then don’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“Ask them.”
I went quiet.
She continued:
“They are not proof.”
“They are people.”
“And they are old enough to decide whether they want the possibility of knowing their biological family.”
I stared at the file box.
“What if Adrian rejects them?”
“Then they learn something painful.”
“And you take them home.”
