Sofia had to check Joe's comb and brush for several days, but at last she found several strands of hair with the
roots attached.

The next day, she took those samples and Tito's to a hospital in Chicago. She couldn't risk having them tested in Bay
City.

"We'll have the results in about a week," the lab technician, a woman in her mid-thirties, promised.

"Can you mail them to me?" Sofia requested. "I don't live in Chicago."

"Yes, I can have it mailed. Just give me your address."

"I have a self-addressed stamped envelope," Sofia said. "Can you please use that instead of one of the hospital's
envelopes? I don't want anyone to know about this," she added, "until I find out whether or not it's a match."

The lab technician accepted the SASE.

Sofia thanked her and left, praying inwardly, "Please, God, don't let it be a match."

####

About a week later, Joe and Dante were sitting on the porch together. It was late in the afternoon.

"Dad, you know what happened today?

"What, Dante?"

"Well," Dante began, "Remy and I were at the park, and my friend Petey and his father walked past, and Petey looked up and said,
"I love you, Dad. And you know what his father did?"

"What?" Joe asked.

"He shook his finger in front of Petey's face and said in a real mean voice (Dante made his own voice as deep and mean as he could)
MEN don't say I love you to other MEN!" Dante went on in his own voice, "That's not right, is it, Dad?"

"No, it isn't. I tell your Grandpa that I love him every time I talk to him."

"Maybe Petey's father doesn't love him," Dante said. "Aren't fathers supposed to love their kids?"

"Of course they are," Joe answered, "and most of them do."

Meanwhile, Sofia was in her bedroom, with the door closed, standing near her bed and holding an envelope in her hand.

"Please don't let it be a match," she whispered. "Please, God, don't let it be a match."

She opened the envelope, pulled out a sheet of paper, and read the results, and then dropped onto the bed.

"Oh, dear God! How am I going to tell Joey?"