The Furrows by Namwali Serpell (brief note)

Second paragraph of third chapter:

I first realized this at Dr. Rothman’s. Two years after my little brother died, but left us no body to confirm the fact and mourn, my mother told me I was going to the doctor’s. I prepared myself for the rituals of the pediatrician’s office: my knees tensed for the rubber hammer, that miracle of reflex; my nostrils anticipated an antiseptic tang, my tongue the compensatory lollipop. But as soon as we arrived—”a new doctor,” my father muttered as he parked—and we got out of the car, it was clear to me that this was no clinic.

The core of the story is parallel timelines where one of the leading characters did or didn’t die, which is often taken as sf, and some reflection on identity that wanders close to Philip K. Dick territory. This turns into commentary on grief, and on the problems of the contemporary US. Not sure that it totally hung together at the end. You can get it here.