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“I want you to try to help me find my real parents,” I basically blurt out.

Not a sound separates us. My breathing grows heavy, and the once light flow of my jog feels like I’m dragging bricks.

“Ah, well, that was unexpected.”

“Yeah, I⁠—”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

A beat passes, neither of us knowing how to direct the conversation from here.

Duke, Ivan, and myself were adopted as babies. I have no memory of my biological parents. James and Priscilla Parker are the only parents I’ve cared to know; they’ve blessed me with a life so fruitful I’ll never be able to repay them, but I’d be lying if I said the identity of my birth parents didn’t nag at me.

I don’t think much about them, but when I do, it consumes me. Before, it was under the bright lights of the club, or left in silence after a hookup, and it’s why I kept my door so revolving. If things were moving at a fast pace, there would be less room for the lingering abandonment I felt. But even in the stillness, I thought about if what set me apart from my brothers was what connected me to my parents.

Did they act like this?

Did they run from their responsibilities?

Did they ever think about me?

“You sure it’s time?” Royce’s voice is laced with concern, though he’d never admit it.

“It’s time,” I confirm, swallowing roughly.

“Well, if you’re sure, I’ll look into it.”

“I appreciate you.”

“Give me a few weeks to get back to you on what I find.”

The sound of paper crinkling, along with the slam of a door, confirms the business of his day is beginning.

“We stop in Miami, so I’ll check in with you while we’re there.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

After a grueling ten miles, I need to get my mind off the conversation I just had. Cleaning up at the hotel, I throw on some casual clothes and head out for a walk.

I don’t frequent Chicago, but I should. Outside the hotel, the fresh breeze from the river slaps me right in the face.

Rejuvenating air enters my lungs as I people watch along the street, following the crowd. Only a few blocks ahead, I continue toward the attraction everyone’s aiming for. Tons of people gather around an art piece. Their phones pulled out, posing, ogling, laughing in front of the silver sculpture.

For a brief moment, I just watch.

The different walks of life, the beauty of this city, the various backgrounds all interpreting the same experience so differently.

My life is fast. I’ve always moved fast. I was a hyper kid who turned into a hyper adult, but at some point, the overly exerted energy was a ploy I used to hide from myself.

Looking at all these people in the reflection of this attraction, I realize fast isn’t the meaning of life.

Slowing down enough to notice the beauty in front of you is what we’re really here for. Some of us just aren’t brave enough to pump the brakes. Some of us aren’t fearless enough to look in the mirror, or to a greater extent, find someone who holds a mirror for us.

I sit back on a nearby bench, feeling at ease for the first time today, and then, the world around me narrows to the beauty in front of me that has nothing to do with the sculpture or tourists.

In nothing but a grey sweatsuit cropped at the stomach and a pair of sneakers, Fia’s the most breathtaking reflection out here. She doesn’t see me, and I’m thankful for the time I have to simply take her in.

I look around in search of familiar faces, but come up empty.