Dr. Hale was standing by the window. He had taken his glasses off again. He was holding them in his hand, looking down at them.
The name on the certificate said: Thomas James Hale.
The room was very quiet.
“You,” I said.
Dr. Hale looked up at me. His eyes were red.
“Me,” he said.
I stood up. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t sit anymore.
“You’re my grandfather?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment. Then he nodded.
“I’m your grandfather, Daniel,” he said. “Your father’s father.”
I stared at this old man in his white coat. At his tall, thin frame. At his long hands. At the way he stood, with his weight on one leg, a little bit slouched.
My father stood exactly like that. I’d seen it a thousand times. Leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee to brew. Slouched on one leg.
