“I’m sorry. I saw him grabbing you and—”
“Yeah, you’re a hero. Like I don’t know how to deal with handsy dickheads.”
It was like she hadn’t even heard, or comprehended, what he’d told her.
“Is there someplace we could talk?” he asked her.
She grabbed the cloth tucked into the waistband of her uniform, took a preliminary run at wiping up the ketchup, saw that some of it had hit the vinyl-covered bench, and said, “Shit.”
She took the untouched plate of food and the mug of coffee and walked them over to a nearby station filled with other dirty dishes, Miles following her.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asked.
“Whatever it was, it didn’t make any sense to me,” she said dismissively.
“It’s true.”
Chloe stopped momentarily. “Seriously. Well, I have no dad. Never have.”
She’d grabbed another cloth and went back to wipe down the bench.
“I know,” Miles said quietly. “You have two moms. Gillian and Annette. I’m sorry about Annette. I know you lost her when you were very young.”
Chloe stopped cleaning, turned, and looked at him.
“You’re freaking me out. Who the hell are you?”
He introduced himself again. “Miles. Miles Cookson. I came up today from New Haven.” The words were catching in his throat. “To see you.”
Chloe wavered slightly, as if struck by a spell of dizziness.
“Why don’t you sit,” Miles said, and Chloe slid onto the bench of the booth she’d just wiped down. Miles, awkwardly — one of his legs was slow in getting the message that he wanted to sit down — settled in across from her.
Vivian, the skillet still in her hand but hanging, nonthreateningly, at her side, approached and said to Chloe, “You okay, sweetheart?”
Chloe gave her a dazed look. “Um... is it okay if I take a break?”
Vivian looked at Miles and then Chloe, realized there was something going on, even if she had no idea what it was, and said, “Sure. You need something, just holler.”
“I wouldn’t mind a coffee,” Miles said.
Vivian shot him a look, suggesting she hadn’t been talking to him. “Comin’ right up,” she said and walked off.
Miles smiled at Chloe and said, “She looks like someone you don’t mess with.”
Chloe said, “How do you know about me? How do you know about my moms?”
“I’ve had to do my homework,” Miles said. “Or had people do it for me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know you have a hundred questions, and this is all a lot to take in in just a few seconds, but let me start by asking you one. What do you know, what have you been told, about your biological father?”
“Nothing. My mom went to a fertility clinic. Got pregnant. Had me. End of story.”
“You must have wondered.”
She nodded slowly. “I don’t know that I should be telling you this.”
“I understand. If you ask me to leave, I’ll leave. But I hope you won’t. I’m legit. I’m who I say I am. I swear.”
“I did the WhatsMyStory thing.” She paused. “But it didn’t connect me to you.”
“I haven’t sent them my DNA. I could have, but there was no guarantee it would accomplish what I wanted, in the time I have.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I’ll come back to that. I got the names of everyone who was implanted with my sperm. Doesn’t matter how. And from there, I was able to learn the names of the issues from those donations.”
“Issues? I’m an issue?”
Miles shrugged. “I still don’t know the language to use.”
Vivian returned with coffee and a handful of tiny, sealed creams. “Everything okay here?” she asked, noticing that Chloe’s eyes were misting.
She grabbed a napkin, dabbed her eyes. “We’re good, Viv.”
“Okay.”
Once she was gone, Chloe asked Miles, “You found all of them?”
Miles nodded.
“How many?”
“Nine.”
“Nine? I thought they could use a sperm bank donation like dozens and dozens of times.”
“In my case, I guess they didn’t. I was a little surprised, too.”
“Nine,” she said, again, more to herself. “I’ve found one of them.”
Miles’s eyebrows went up. “You have?”
“A half brother. Todd Cox.”
“Yeah, that’s one of the names on my list.”
“Do you have it? Can I see it?”
Miles looked down at the table and shook his head. “Once I’ve tracked everyone down, had a chance to talk to them, see how they feel about this, then I can arrange for everyone to meet each other. Bring everyone together.” He cracked a grin. “I guess reunion would be the wrong word. An introduction.”
“Yeah, well, I guess. But they could be all over the place. Anywhere in the world.”
“I can cover that,” he said.
“Why? You rich or something?”
“Yes,” he said plainly.
“Oh,” Chloe said. She waved her arm at her surroundings. “I’m working on my first million here.” She shook her head wonderingly. “This is all so weird. And yeah, it’s a lot to take in. Here you are, just sitting there. I’m not sure I actually believe it.”
“Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know. I’m not saying you are. But it’s kind of hard to get my head around. All my life I’ve wondered who my honest-to-God father is, and now you’re here, and I think, shouldn’t I feel different? Is my life changed?”
“Maybe not yet,” he said.
Her face became serious. “So, why?”
“Why?”
“Why are you here? Why find me?”
“Why’d you get in touch with WhatsMyStory? There are things you wanted to know.”
“Okay, but I’m thinking, with you, there’s got to me more to it than that.”
This was going to be the hard part. “I had some tests done recently,” he said.
“Tests?”
“I was noticing some changes. Muscle-type things. Short-term memory lapses. Involuntary movements.”
“You seem okay.”
“It’s early days. Anyway, they checked me out, to see what might be wrong.”
And then he thought, I can’t tell her.
If she knew anything about Huntington’s, she’d immediately know she was at risk. He couldn’t drop a bomb like that on her. Not this fast. Tell her he had something that presented with similar symptoms. Something that wasn’t as likely to be passed on.
“I’ve got ALS,” he said. “Sometimes it’s called Lou Gehrig’s disease. That’s—”
“I know what it is. I visit my grandfather all the time at his seniors home. There’s someone there who has it. It’s a bad fucker.”
Miles smiled. “Yeah, it is. So, the clock’s ticking. Although I don’t know how fast. I’m considering... my legacy. I want to find the people I’d be leaving behind that I didn’t even know I had.”
“Okay.” This time, a tear escaped and ran down her cheek. “So, after all these years, in one hour, I find out who my dad is, and that I’m going to lose him.”
“Well, not right away.”
“Fuck,” Chloe said, grabbing another napkin and wiping the tear away. “I’m sorry. I’m making it sound like this is all about me. You’re the one who’s sick.”
There was so much more to tell. About what he intended to give her and the others. About how she would become very, very rich. And, eventually, the health threat she might face.
But that could come later.
Chloe sniffed a couple of times, pulled herself together.
“You know what I think I should do?” she said, attempting a smile.