— “I can find it, sir.”
The drive took an hour. The city was waking up, traffic was heavy, people were rushing to work. Andrew watched them, thinking about the turns a life can take. Yesterday he buried his wife; today he was looking for a daughter he never knew existed. Or maybe, a daughter he’d spent thirty years pretending didn’t exist.
The facility was an old brick building surrounded by overgrown bushes. Peeling paint and a rusted fence spoke of a place that was barely hanging on. Andrew winced. He donated to charities regularly, but he’d never looked into places like this. Maybe he should have.
Inside, it smelled of industrial cleaner and overcooked vegetables. A woman in scrubs sat at the front desk, flipping through a magazine. She looked up, surprised to see a man in a tailored suit in her lobby.
— “Can I help you?” she asked skeptically.
— “I’m looking for Zelda Miller,” Andrew said firmly. — “I was told she’s a resident here.”
The woman frowned and set her magazine down.
— “Are you family?”
— “An old friend. It’s been a long time.”
The lie came out smoothly enough that the woman nodded.
— “Room 212, second floor. But listen—she’s been frail lately. The doctors don’t think she has much time left. Try not to upset her.”
Andrew climbed the creaky stairs. The hallway was dim, the air heavy with the scent of medicine and age. From behind some doors came the drone of televisions; from others, a heavy silence.
Room 212. Andrew paused, gathering his thoughts. What was he going to say? What was he hoping for? What if this was all a mistake? He knocked softly.
— “Come in,” a weak voice called out.
The room was tiny but neat. A bed by the window, a small table with pill bottles, two chairs, and an old TV. On the wall hung a few faded photos in frames. An elderly woman sat in the bed, propped up by pillows. She looked to be in her mid-eighties. Her hair was white, her face deeply lined, but her eyes were sharp.
— “Hello,” Andrew said, closing the door. — “Are you Zelda Miller?”
The woman studied him for a long time. Then, a faint smile touched her lips.
— “Finally,” she said. — “I had a feeling you’d show up. Toni said you’d find your way here.”
— “Who is Toni?”
