The Return of Jonah Gray by Heather Cochran

earlier.”
    â€œI expect a lot of the guys here were,” Scott said. “Maybe one of them took home a party favor.”
    That’s when Uncle Ed wandered over. “May I?” he asked.
    I motioned for Ed to sit down. At once, the caterers began to fade back toward the kitchen, as though Ed seemed like more of an adult than me and thus someone who might cause trouble for them. How little they knew. Caterers were frequently audited. All those undeclared tips.
    â€œAre you enjoying yourself?” I asked Ed.
    â€œI’m having a grand time.” He sat heavily beside me. “But I guess I said the wrong name back there.”
    â€œIt’s a sore spot. Always has been. Always will be.”
    â€œYou think?” Ed asked.
    â€œI know,” I said.
    Ed shrugged and took a pull on his drink. He looked out over the pool. “I talk to him,” he said. “I bet you didn’t know that.”
    I turned to look, to make sure that he wasn’t joking. Of course he wasn’t joking, I thought. Of course he wasn’t.
    â€œYou talk to Marcus? Johnston?”
    â€œI talk to Marcus.”
    â€œBut, you’re not even related.”
    â€œSasha—”
    â€œWell, you’re not.”
    â€œWhat does that matter? He’s a person. I’m a person. We certainly have people in common.”
    â€œI’m just pointing out…” I wasn’t sure what I was trying to point out. “How? I mean, how often? When?”
    He shrugged again. “A few times a month maybe? Sometimes less.”
    â€œDoes Mom know?”
    â€œOh heavens, no.”
    â€œAnd Dad?”
    â€œHe does.”
    I turned back to the pool. “Where is he?” I asked quietly. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to want to know.
    â€œSacramento.”
    â€œCalifornia? He’s in California? Doing what?”
    â€œWorking.”
    â€œConstruction?” I asked.
    Ed looked at me and sighed. “That was five years ago.”
    The way he said it made clear that changes had occurred that I ought to have known about. I was embarrassed. I searched my mind for any newer information about Marcus, but I had none. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had thought of him.
    â€œDoes Dad talk to him?”
    â€œSometimes. When Jacob got sick, it seemed a good time to start something. But you understand, the way your mother is…He’s coming down next week. We’re having dinner on Thursday. You should come.”
    â€œTo dinner? Why?”
    â€œCall my office on Monday and my secretary will give you the details. You want to come?”
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe.”
    â€œPut it in your calendar. I’ll drop you a line to remind you.”
    I nodded. Marcus. Now there was a name from the past.
    Â 
    Genetically speaking, Marcus Johnston was my half brother, though on the day of the anniversary party, I wasn’t sure I could have picked him out of a crowd. Marcus was the child of my father and Eloise Johnston, “that woman,” my mother called her. “That woman” had been my father’s secretary in his first accountancy office, back in Roanoke. I’d never known much more about the affair—not how serious it was or how it had begun or how long it had lasted. Long enough for Eloise to get pregnant, that much was clear. And it must have ended quickly. We were already months into our first Piedmont home by the time Marcus was born.
    It seemed a strange subject to be thinking about on that day in particular. The affair had been a stress fracture, straining my parents’ marriage to the point of breaking without actually snapping it in half. My mother had stayed, or rather, she had allowed my father to stay. And over the years, especially after Blake came along, the breach had healed into something secure.
    All I knew about Eloise Johnston was that she’d moved to Florida soon after Marcus was born, where