She nodded.
“Right now, yes.”
Relief moved through him so powerfully that he sat again.
He put both hands over his face.
For several seconds, nothing else mattered.
Not Esther.
Not Gabriel.
Not the photograph.
His baby.
Alive.
Okay.
He felt Valeria’s hand against his back.
He reached for her automatically.
Then remembered why he was angry with her.
The conflict nearly broke him.
He still took her hand.
“Is the baby in danger?”
“There are risks.”
“What risks?”
Valeria swallowed.
“The baby inherited the translocation.”
Alejandro looked at her.
“But you said okay.”
“Balanced.”
She squeezed his fingers.
“Like yours.”
He stared.
“So the baby can live normally?”
“Yes.”
“As far as the specialists can tell.”
Alejandro closed his eyes.
His child was alive.
His child was healthy.
His child had inherited something Alejandro himself never knew existed.
He opened his eyes.
“Why did my mother know?”
Valeria did not answer.
She looked toward Esther.
That was when Alejandro understood the next question was more frightening than the first.
He stood again.
“Mother.”
Esther looked at him.
“Why did you know I carried it?”
“I told you.”
“Because I was tested as a baby.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Alejandro shook his head.
“That isn’t enough.”
He moved toward her.
“Why were you looking for that specific translocation?”
Esther’s eyes became hard.
“Because it existed in the family.”
“Our family?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Alejandro looked at his father.
“Do you have it?”
Gabriel said nothing.
Alejandro repeated:
“Dad.”
Gabriel finally looked up.
“No.”
Alejandro froze.
He looked at Esther.
“Do you?”
“No.”
Silence.
Alejandro’s mind worked slowly.
“If neither of you carries it, where did I get it?”
Nobody moved.
Valeria began crying again.
Alejandro stared at his mother.
Then his father.
Suddenly the bedroom felt cold.
“That isn’t possible.”
Gabriel stood.
“Alejandro.”
“No.”
He stepped back.
“No.”
Esther spoke sharply.
“Do not jump to conclusions.”
Alejandro laughed.
“What conclusion would you recommend?”
His mother stared at him.
“The chromosome did not come from either of you.”
Silence.
Alejandro’s voice lowered.
“So tell me who it came from.”
Gabriel turned toward the window.
Esther looked at him.
Alejandro saw thirty years of marriage pass silently between them.
Then Gabriel whispered:
“Your uncle.”
Alejandro stared.
“What?”
His father closed his eyes.
“My brother.”
For several seconds, Alejandro could not process the sentence.
His father had one brother.
Rafael.
The name belonged mostly to photographs.
Rafael Aranda had died before Alejandro was born.
A boating accident in Mexico.
Alejandro grew up seeing his portrait in his grandparents’ library.
Young.
Handsome.
Reckless.
A family story preserved in dust.
Alejandro looked at Esther.
“No.”