I flew to Tucson on a Tuesday in February. I was thirty years old and I had not told my mother. I did not tell Brian. I did not tell Aunt Linda. I found Matthew through a private investigator who charged me eighteen hundred dollars and took two weeks. He was living in a small adobe house in the north part of the city with a woman who was not my mother. I rang the doorbell at 10 AM. He opened it in a flannel shirt and jeans, holding a coffee cup, and he looked at my face, and he set the coffee cup down on a table in the hallway without looking where he put it, and he said — and this is the line I will remember if I live to be a hundred — "Oh my God. Oh my God. You came." He knew me. He had not seen me since I was twenty-two months old. He knew me. I said, "Dad?" And he said, "Yeah. Yeah, kid. It's me."