by Julie Clark
“What made you come back?” I ask.
She leans against the car, her posture softening a little bit. “Running away didn’t fix anything,” she says. “No matter where I go, this will follow me. Leonard and Beverly need me. They need Nick. And Nick needs that connection to Aaron.”
“And where do I fit in?”
She looks down. “I don’t know. Maybe someday we’ll have a different kind of friendship. But I’m not sure if it can ever go back to how it was.”
I nod, unable to speak. I get it. I’m just glad she doesn’t hate me anymore.
She continues, “I understand that I can’t control the decisions you make as a parent, but I’d like to ask that you not tell Miles who his father was until the boys are older.”
“Of course,” I say. “Can the boys still be friends?”
She gives a sad smile. “As if we could stop them.” She pushes off the car and digs in her purse for her keys. “I’ll be back at four.”
I stand at the curb and watch her car until it rounds the corner, out of sight.
—
Back inside, I take the present and head up the stairs, settling myself in the spare bedroom.
I sit on the bed and unfold the corners, pulling the wrapping away to find a leather-bound photo album. Taped to the cover is a note written in Jackie’s slanted, angular handwriting.
I hope someday Miles will gather understanding and comfort from this. It was hard for me to assemble, but it was healing as well. Thank you for being such a great friend.
Love,
Jackie
I open the album, expecting to see photographs of Miles and Nick, a chronicle of their friendship, but instead there are photographs of a baby and a house I don’t recognize, with furnishings that look like they’re from the seventies. I flip a few pages and see a young boy on a bike, then the same boy climbing a tree. A few more pages, I see him dressed up for a dance, then running shirtless through a sprinkler.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. Jackie has gifted us a photographic journey of Aaron’s life. She’s given my son his father.
Tears stream down my cheeks as I continue to study the boy as he grows into a teenager, a young adult, and finally a man. Aaron, holding his own son, tears of joy in his eyes as he smiles at the camera. He looks so happy, and for a moment it’s impossible to believe he’s not still here. Miles will never have a photograph of that moment with his father, though I know he’ll understand why his story is different. And thanks to Jackie, he’ll have more than I ever thought possible. I realize she must have gotten many of these pictures from Beverly, and I make a mental note to call her and thank her for facilitating this.
I flip to the next page, but it’s empty. I turn back to the beginning and scour the book again, studying Aaron’s face and his expressions, seeing so much of Miles in him. I find a photo of him at about the same age Miles is now, grinning and leaning over the handlebars of a bike. He looks like he’s about to laugh or say something, the street behind him empty except for anonymous lawns and seventies-era cars. Beverly was right. They’re identical. I trace the outline of Aaron’s face, wondering what thought lived inside his head at that exact moment and what he did immediately afterward. What he had for dinner. What he looked like, asleep and sweaty on his pillow that night. And the thousands of days that followed it, all the way until the last one.
I keep turning pages, slowly recounting his life in pictures. When I reach the end, I close it and place it on the dresser, then walk to the window and look down into the yard. The kids have divided into two teams and are attacking one another with the water balloons. I find Miles and Nick, hiding behind a large planter, their backs arched identically as they huddle together, waiting for the perfect moment to ambush their friends. My eyes travel over to the corner of the house, where Liam and Henry stand with a hose, filling balloons and piling them into tubs. Liam laughs at something Henry says, and the sound carries up and into my heart.
It’s not how I imagined it would be, but life rarely ever is. Jackie left the door open to something new, a different kind of friendship. And I latch on to that for now. Because so much of what I thought would be impossible has happened in this past year. Why not this?
Miles and Nick emerge from their hiding place and move toward Rose in a planned attack. She screams and ducks, but a water balloon hits her between her shoulders. Liam and Henry roar with laughter as the boys make a hasty retreat.
“Paige!” she yells. “Get out here!”
“Coming!” I head down the stairs, into the messy chaos that is my family.
EPIGENETIC INHERITANCE
* * *
Epigenetic inheritance is the idea that a parent’s experiences can be passed down to future generations. It means that events in your grandfather’s life may have shaped the way you experience events in your own.
Studies have been done, on mice all the way up to humans, and the results are the same—trauma can lodge itself in your cells and transmit the effects across generations. The phrase I felt it in every cell of my body has some scientific truth to it. Everything we experience shapes our genes. These experiences are transferred to our tissues and into our cells through biochemicals. Win the lottery? It’s recorded. Survive an acrimonious divorce? That experience becomes a part of your genetic code and could be traced generations from now.
In one such study, pregnant mice were subjected to a physical stressor accompanied by a specific odor. Two generations later, offspring of the affected rodents had a significantly higher biological and behavioral response to that odor than offspring of nonaffected mice. A more recent study using worms has measured that impact through fourteen generations. If we translate that to our own life span, it would be approximately 350 years.
It’s harder to measure in humans. But we know that descendants of Holocaust survivors are three times more likely to develop a stress disorder, even when they never knew their surviving ancestor. And pregnant women who survived September 11 have significantly lower cortisol levels, as do their children. Epigenetic stress can cross generations, and we are only just beginning to understand how long the effects can last.
When someone survives a traumatic experience, they often say, That changed me. I’m not the same person I was before. And they’re right. You might think your experience is wholly yours, formed by your DNA and unique life experiences. But epigenetic inheritance tells us you’re wrong.
My father’s childhood trauma exists somewhere in me, and it also lives in Miles’s genetic code. It will impact the decisions he makes, though he will only know it as intuition, that small voice that lives inside of him, guiding him toward his own truth.
Sophie Sullivan’s children will carry epigenetic markers of the loss of Mara, just as losing Aaron will manifest itself in Nick’s children. Miles will carry it too, though for him it will be different, the loss of a man still mostly unknown. This theory is being proven in labs across the world.
When someone dies, you can’t help but think in terms of last times. The last time you talked with them, the last time you held their hand, the last time you kissed them. But we’re learning that we never really lose those last times. They embed themselves in our genes to be carried forward, a quiet memory of people long since forgotten.
I often wonder what my father would say about Jackie’s return, about the life I’m building with Liam. But if I’m still and I listen hard, he’s here, in the silent rush of blood through my veins, telling me what I need to know.
* * *
Author’s Note
I didn’t start out writing a book about genetics. Truthfully, I knew almost nothing about genetics, and when I realized Paige was going to be a geneticist and there was going to be a genetic subplot, I was terrified. So I did what I tell my own children and students to do when they don’t know the answer to something—read a lot of books and ask an expert a lot of questions. The Invisible History of the Human Race by Christine Kenneally was invaluable in planting the se
ed ideas for my genetics chapters. The book is a wonderful primer on how DNA and inheritance work and how the past can manifest itself in the present.
I was also lucky enough to be able to connect with geneticist Dr. James West of Vanderbilt University. Dr. West has been incredibly generous with his time, patiently answering my questions and forwarding me articles over the course of the past two years. It was from Dr. West that I first heard about oxytocin production in new fathers—which got me thinking about the men in the world who aren’t good fathers and that perhaps it isn’t a conscious choice to be a bad parent, but rather a genetic one. From there the oxytocin inhibitor gene was born. I’ve done my best to stay true to the way Dr. West described labs, DNA tests, and research studies and how they’re funded, though I’ve taken some license with procedures and how Paige’s study is structured. And of course, all errors—scientific and otherwise—are entirely mine.
I am fortunate to know several families who conceived their children using an anonymous donor. But Miles and Paige are entirely my own invention, not based on any one mother or any one child. It is true that the United States lags far behind in anonymous donor policies. More and more sperm banks are offering open donor programs, an opportunity for donor-conceived children to have access to biological information and contact with their donors once they turn eighteen. But that doesn’t address the larger need of millions of donor-conceived children who cannot access their donor records. Websites such as the Donor Sibling Registry offer these children forums, workshops, and support groups, as well as a database that allows them to search for biological siblings and parents. Founded in 2000 by Wendy and Ryan Kramer, the DSR’s mission is to help people who were conceived via sperm, egg, or embryo donation find genetic relatives. The DSR also works to fight for an individual’s right to their biological history. For more information, you can go to www.donorsiblingregistry.com.
For many years, my route to work took me past my great-aunt Edna’s old apartment. She, along with my grandparents, are long gone, but every time I’d pass, I’d feel a sense of loss for all the things I’ll never know about them simply because I never asked: my aunt’s heartbreaking affair with a married man or the scandal surrounding my own grandparents’ marriage. No one knows the details anymore. They are just faded memories that have traveled down through the generations, like legends, landing at my feet and making me wonder what dramas in my own life will someday be lost to time. So learning about epigenetic inheritance—that experiences from their lives can manifest in mine and that my own might somehow shape my children and grandchildren—resonated with me.
What I’ve learned through writing this book is that genetics isn’t static. Our environment, our emotions, even the people we choose to spend time with are all recorded in our cells, shaping who we will become. Whether we like it or not—be it a cancer mutation or the methylation of the oxytocin inhibitor—the control we think we have is limited to what we see in front of us, the moment we’re living right now.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my agent, Mollie Glick. From day one, working with you has been a joy. You’re fierce and funny and so incredibly smart. I’m grateful every day that I get to have you on my team, and I look forward to working on many more books together. And a thank-you to Joy Fowlkes and Emily Westcott, for keeping all of the moving parts running smoothly.
Thank you to my editor, Lauren McKenna. You took Paige and instantly turned her into our girl. You are such a force in the publishing industry and helped to make this book better than I’d ever dreamed it would be. And thank you to the entire Gallery team: Jen Bergstrom, Abby Zidle, Diana Velasquez, Lisa Litwack, Christine Masters, Erica Ferguson, Sara Quaranta, Michelle Podberezniak, and Mackenzie Hickey.
I have some very talented writers in my life who also happen to be great friends. First, a tremendous thank-you to Brenda Drake, Karma Brown, and Susan Bishop Crispell. I would not be here without you. Thank you to Aimee Molloy and Liz Kay—you are not only brilliant critique partners, but hilarious as well. You held my hand and kept me laughing through this process. And, Aimee, I am forever grateful to debut alongside you. It’s made everything ten times more fun than doing it alone. Now go get your sandwich board and bell ready.
Thank you also to Dedi Felman, for putting me through my paces early on, and to Alexandra Alessandri, for urging me to stick with this book when I wanted to give up.
A huge thank-you to Dr. James West (and his wife, Mary Beth) for answering every one of my questions—no matter how basic—with patience and enthusiasm for this project. There would be no genetic subplot without you! And my deepest appreciation to Wendy Kramer, founder of the Donor Sibling Registry, for allowing me to share its mission and history with my readers.
Thank you to the many early readers willing to take a chance and sit down with a very rough version: Lori Sawyer, Carey Madill, Magda Pecsenye, Kristina ElSayed, and Susan Jackson.
My parents, Joyce and Bob, have supported me in everything I’ve ever done in life—enthusiastically and without reservation—for the past forty-plus years and counting. I love you both.
And finally, to my boys, Alex and Ben, who have lived alongside this book for so many years. You are, and will always be, the two brightest lights in my life, and my two greatest creations. I love you both more than the entire world—north, south, east, west, up, down, and all around.
GALLERY READERS GROUP GUIDE
The Ones We Choose
* * *
Julie Clark
This reading group guide for The Ones We Choose includes an introduction, discussion questions, ideas for enhancing your book club, and a Q&A with author Julie Clark. The suggested questions are intended to help your reading group find new and interesting angles and topics for your discussion. We hope that these ideas will enrich your conversation and increase your enjoyment of the book.
Introduction
Abandoned by her father when she was young, geneticist Paige Robson has dedicated her life to pulling apart the science of his choice—discovering a gene that explains why some men stay while others leave. So when she decides she wants a child of her own, she turns to an anonymous sperm donor who will never complicate their lives. Now, nine years later, Paige loves Liam, a man with a big heart and a steadiness that makes her want to set aside her past and build a family of three with him.
But moving forward is more complicated than she expected. Her son, Miles, is desperate to know his biological father and views Liam as nothing more than a stand-in for the real thing. Paige feels trapped, unable to make either of them completely happy.
When fate thrusts Miles’s donor into their lives, Paige is shocked to discover he’s already connected to them in ways she couldn’t have anticipated. Paige fears that revealing his true identity may do more harm than good and decides to say nothing. But when tragedy strikes, she must face the consequences of keeping a secret only she knows.
Topics and Questions for Discussion
1. When Paige tries to get Miles to go on the dads’ campout with Liam, Miles expresses his desire to know his biological father. Up until this point, Paige has been able to handle her son’s questions about his conception. What has changed? Is it just the campout? Or is the development of Miles’s desires something Paige didn’t anticipate?
2. Paige meets Jackie and Aaron at parents’ night at Miles’s school. Paige says the PTA mothers make her feel inadequate. What is different about Jackie? Paige is always worried about Miles having a friend, but why is it important that she also have one?
3. Paige feels torn between giving Liam what he wants and making sure Miles is happy. Is that a dichotomy of her own construction? When Liam breaks up with her, he tells her Miles is “never going to let me in because you’ve taught him he doesn’t have to.” Is that a fair point? Or, since Liam knew Paige’s history with her father, could he have approached her fears in a different way?
4. The reader is put in Paige’s shoes when her father doesn’t show up
to have lunch with her and Rose. Does this make you more understanding of her position that neither she nor Miles will have anything to do with him, despite the fact that he is dying? She takes a harsh line that only Jackie supports; is it a fair reaction to someone responsible for a lot of emotional damage?
5. Both Paige’s mother and sister want Paige to have contact with her father before he dies. Her mother wants Paige to grant him forgiveness, saying it “doesn’t mean forgetting. . . . It means understanding what happened, looking beyond your version of the past and seeing things from someone else’s perspective.” What events lead to Paige finding this version of forgiveness?
6. Rose is blunter with Paige. She says, “This isn’t about forgiving Dad or even having a relationship with him. It’s about not hating him when he dies.” Is this different from what their mother was trying to say? Why is finding this place so important for Paige as a daughter, mother, and possible life partner?
7. Paige’s father is the one to show her how similar they are to each other. Do you think her work on the genetics of emotional detachment has blinded her to the power of learned behavior?
8. Bruno understands why this gene study is important to Paige both professionally and personally. He calls her out when she asks Jenna to make extra visits to Scott, which could compromise their work. Were you surprised she then took an even bigger risk by using her lab to test Aaron’s DNA? She says the mother in her won out over the scientist. Were you comfortable with this justification?