“No.” Her voice changed, and I sat up a little straighter. “I was thinking about something.”
“What?”
“Sam came by here a few days before he died.”
That got my attention.
“What day?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Maybe three or four days before.”
“What did he want?”
“Nothing. At least that’s what he said.”
I frowned. “What you mean?”
“He came over asking me questions about your mama.”
My hand stopped halfway to the glass.
“What kind of questions?”
“That’s what I asked him. He wanted to know how old you were when she started using drugs, when she got sick and a bunch of other stuff I hadn’t thought about in years.”
For a second, I didn’t say anything.
“Why the fuck was Sam asking about my mama?”
“I don’t know, Kaiden.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“Of course I asked. He said he was trying to figure something out.”
My jaw tightened as I looked at Sam’s belongings scattered across the desk.
“Trying to figure what out?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Did he ask about anything else?”
My aunt got quiet for a second. Then she said, “Your father.”
I sat up straighter and asked, “What about him?”
“He asked if I ever found out who he was.”
The room suddenly felt a lot quieter than it had a few seconds ago.
“And what’d you tell him?”
“The truth. I don’t know.”
That was the same answer I’d heard my entire life. My mother had never told anybody who my father was, and bythe time I was old enough to start asking questions, she was too far gone to give me a straight answer.
“Did Sam say why he wanted to know?”
