“Ow,” we said simultaneously.
I sat up, clutching my forehead, just as Hayes leaned toward me, my torn napkin in his hand. “Are you okay?” he asked, softly pressing his index and middle fingers to my brow.
I startled at his touch, and he pulled his hand back quickly but kept his eyes on me. They were concerned and caring and gentle, just as his touch had been. I gulped, and then played it off with a smile. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Are you?”
“Just a mild concussion,” he said, smiling as he rubbed his forehead.
He handed me my napkin, and I tucked it in my lap. “Anyway,” I continued, “I took one of those DNA tests recently. Just on a lark, with my friends. And I learned I’m Italian and Irish, with some Scottish mixed in. Kinda cool to find out, but no big deal. But then someone tracked me down through the app and sent me a message.”
“Who?” His brow furrowed as he bit into his sandwich, listening intently.
“Apparently, I have a half sister in Italy. In Milan, actually.”
“Wow. That’s wild.”
“I know!” I said, my voice rising. “It’s bonkers. And honestly, there’s a part of it that feels amazing, if that even makes sense. But it also kind of freaked me out, and I haven’t responded yet.”
He nodded, giving me the space to talk.
“She also told me that my…our dad died a long time ago. And just knowing that has felt really…”
I swallowed, still trying to figure out my feelings in real time. “It’s heavy,” I said eventually. “And sad. It’s really sad.”
“I am really, really sorry for your loss,” he said in a quiet voice. I’d never thought about it like that: a loss. The word hit me deeply.
“My whole life, one side of who I am has been a literal blank space,” I continued. “And that can kinda mess with you growing up, when you don’t entirely know who you come from. Especially…”
I had never said this part out loud before.
“Especially when I’ve always kind of been the odd one in my family. You know…” I waved my hands at myself, as if this explained everything, and Hayes just laughed.
“I don’t know. You seem very normal to me.”
“Thank you.” I tipped an imaginary hat to him. “But I’m the talkative, artsy weirdo who left my hometown and moved to New York City. My mom and stepdad met at the bank they worked at, and that’s the same place they retired from a few years ago. Their idea of a fun night is sitting in matching recliners watching CSI.”
“Wait, that actually does sound like a fun night to me,” Hayes objected, and then bit into a fry.
“True,” I said. “But you get what I mean.”
“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “I do.”
“And the crazy part is,” I added, “I think this sister might also be an artsy weirdo. Just a very successful one. So I’m intimidated by that, but also I’m dying to know what she’s like, and what my dad was like, and if…”
Hayes let me go silent, and then finished my thought for me. “And if you’re at all like them.”
I nodded and felt annoyed at how easily he got me. I was trying desperately not to be into this guy, and then he had to go and understand exactly what I was trying to say. “But there’s a part of me that worries—what if I’m not like them at all? And then what? It’ll be like I don’t fit in anywhere.”
I turned my attention back to my food, dragging a French fry through the pile of ketchup I’d made in front of me. I didn’t want him to see that my eyes had filled with tears.
Hayes was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Do you wanna hear what I think?” he asked gingerly, like he was trying to pull out a splinter without hurting me. I nodded.
“You’re under no obligation to respond, just because you’re related. Family is what we make, not what we’re born into. At least it is for me.”
I took a swig of my water, listening.
“And maybe, instead of this revealing something new about yourself, it will help you connect to what you’ve always known about yourself all along.”
Well, that was…deep. Not what I was expecting. It almost sounded like he knew what he was talking about. But that was ridiculous. Hayes was the kind of person who clearly had it all figured out. Maybe I was way off. Maybe he was still learning too.
“Thanks, Hayes. I should pay you for this therapy session,” I joked.