Were neither of the two babies his? And did both die as infants?
Listening to this story is his adult daughter from a second marriage. Told she’s his only child, she wonders if she’ll ever know the truth. Her father’s tales change with the telling, and she’s experienced the painful consequences of asking questions he doesn’t like hearing.
Later that night, back at home, her restless sleep is punctured by an odd dream:
She is driving, alone, up a hilly street and into darkness. Her car lights illuminate only faint fog-like reflections. As the blackness begins enveloping her, she passes a building’s large window, with bright lights and people inside talking.
She stops, grateful to have not struck anything. But she wonders now — in the blackness — what to do with her car. She’s also wondering what might await her behind that window, in the light, if she’s willing.
More than anything, she wants to see the sun rise.