Hey love, you wont believe whats been on my mind lately. So, Victor closed his eyes and went back thirtyfive years. Mary was lying in a hospital bed, pale and exhausted. The doctors called it a miracle that theyd both survived. He swore right then that his little boy would be the happiest kid on earth.
Dad, can you hear me? Pauls voice yanked Victor back to now.
Yeah, son, Im here. Just got lost in thought, Victor replied.
They were at the little café opposite Pauls office, Saturday routine Paul with his coffee, Victor with tea and a slice of lemon.
Hows the project coming along? Victor asked.
Got it! A threeyear contract, can finally start thinking about a mortgage, Paul grinned.
Victor felt a surge of pride. Paul never let him down top student at school, firstclass degree, climbing the ladder at work.
What about Lena? Victor asked.
Everythings fine. She wants kids, Im not ready yet, works crazy, Paul shrugged.
Dont dawdle, mate. Time flies, Victor said, and Paul glanced at his watch.
Gotta run, dad. Meeting in thirty minutes.
Cool, see you tomorrow at Mums?
Definitely.
Victor watched his son walk away tall, confident, his own little legacy.
Back home Mary was humming as she cooked lunch.
Hows Paul? she asked without turning from the stove.
Got the contract, buzzing about it, Victor replied.
Good on him, Mary smiled.
Victor wrapped his arm around Marys shoulders. Forty years together, through sickness, money woes, the loss of both sets of parents, and theyd still been standing.
Remember when we used to dream about having kids? Victor asked.
Like it was yesterday. You said wed name him Paul, Mary laughed.
And we did right, Victor said, noticing something odd in Marys posture.
Whats up? he asked.
Nothing. This onions making my eyes sting, she replied, trying to sound casual.
That night Michael, Victors cousin, called they hadnt spoken in ages.
Hey Vic, hows it going? Michael said.
All good. You?
Retired now, cant believe it. Ran into Paul downtown yesterday.
Yeah? And?
Nothing special, just thought he doesnt look much like you or Mary either, Michael chuckled.
What are you on about? Victor frowned.
Just a thought. By the way, do you recall Marys exboyfriend what was his name Daniel, I think?
What Daniel?
Remember when you two split and she was with someone else for six months?
Victor felt a chill run down his spine.
Michael, what are you talking about?
Oh, forget it. That was ages ago. The important thing is the familys solid, the boys great, Michael said, then hung up.
Victor sat at the kitchen table for ages, Mary already asleep. He tried to piece together that period. Theyd fought, he couldnt remember why. Mary had gone to stay with a friend in York for about four or five months. Then they patched things up. A year later Paul was born.
Victor switched on his laptop, stared at pictures of Paul. Sure enough, Paul got his mums eyes, his nose, his height but not much of Victors looks either. He takes after his mother, people said. Yet he didnt look much like Mary either.
He shut the laptop, trying to shake the nagging thoughts. Michael loved gossip, and Paul was his son, his blood, his pride. Sleep didnt come.
The next day at work Victor couldnt focus, Michaels words looping in his head.
Mary, he said that evening, remember when we drifted apart in our youth?
Mary froze, plate in hand.
Why bring up the old stuff?
Just curious. Where were you living back then?
At Sues place in Cambridge. Why?
Nothing, Michael called yesterday, we were reminiscing.
Mary set her plate down and darted out of the kitchen, looking a bit off.
A week later Victor couldnt take it any longer. He booked a doctors appointment, pretending it was a routine checkup.
Doctor, could I ask about some tests? Victor said.
Which ones? the doctor replied.
Well paternity, just for curiosity, Victor admitted.
DNA test, simple enough. Two weeks and youll have results. Though at your age?
Its for a friend, Victor shrugged.
At home he dug out Pauls old hairbrush, grabbed a few strands, and sent them off to the lab.
Two weeks dragged on like a lifetime. Mary kept asking what was happening, Victor brushed it off as work stress.
The results landed on Thursday morning. Victors hands trembled as he opened the file.
Paternity probability: 0%
He read it three, four times. Zero percent. Paul wasnt his son.
Victor stared at the screen, emptiness crushing him. Thirtyfive years hed loved a child that wasnt his by blood, raised him, poured his soul and money into him. And Mary? Shed always known.
That evening Mary walked in from work, bright as ever.
Vic, Paul called. He and Lena (well call her Lucy) are coming tomorrow. Ill make your favourite roast, she chirped.
Mary, we need to talk, Victor said, his voice shaking.
What about?
Sit down.
She perched opposite him, hands folded.
Paul isnt my son, Victor blurted.
Mary went pale.
What are you saying?
Ive got the test. Zero percent.
She stared, then tears rolled down her cheeks.
Vic?
Whos the father? That Daniel?
How do you know?
It doesnt matter where it came from. Answer me.
It was ages ago we fought, split
And you went straight to him?
Not right away. A month later, I was lonely, lost I ended up with him for a while, then came back to you with his child.
I didnt know! I swear I didnt! I thought he was yours! Victor snapped.
Youre lying. Can you even count? Mary sniffled.
I realized after Paul was born, but what could I do? Tear the family apart?
So for thirtyfive years youve been lying to me.
I didnt lie, I kept quiet. For us.
For yourself! Coward! Victor shouted, standing up.
Where are you going? Mary asked.
I dont know. Need to think, he replied.
Dont leave! Talk to me! she pleaded, but he slammed the door.
Rain hammered the streets as Victor walked, wondering how to look Paul in the eye now, how to hug him, how to be proud of his achievements when the boy was technically not his.
Tomorrow they’d all show up, smile, share news, and hed have to pretend everything was fine. Nothing was.
The next day Victor skipped work, stared out the window. Mary tried to speak in the morning, but he stayed silent. By lunch shed gone to her sisters cottage.
At five Paul called.
Dad, well be there in an hour. Lucy bought a cake.
Dont come, Victor said.
What? Why?
Just not today.
Are you sick?
No. Lets just postpone.
Dad, whats happening? Mums acting strange too.
Victor hung up. Ten minutes later the phone rang again, then again. He muted it.
An hour later there was a frantic knock.
Dad, open up! I know youre home!
Victor sat frozen.
Dad, whats wrong? Mums crying, wont explain!
The knocking became pounding.
Open up or Ill use the spare key!
Victor remembered Paul had a spare. He got up, opened the door. Paul stood there, dishevelled and anxious.
Finally! Whats going on? Paul demanded.
Come in.
They sat in the living room. Paul stared, waiting.
Dad, explain something, he said.
Im not your father, Victor said flat.
What?
Im not your dad. Im not related by blood.
Pauls eyes widened.
Are you crazy?
I did a DNA test. Result was zero.
What test? What are you talking about?
Paternity. Im not your father.
Paul was silent for a while, then whispered, So what now?
I dont know.
You spent thirtyfive years raising me and now you drop this? Thats it?
You dont get it
What dont I get? That Mum was with someone else? And that what?
Because she cheated on me!
You? Who cheated on who? Am I to blame?
Victor looked into Pauls eyes and saw that childlike hurt.
Dad, be honest. What changed? Im still the same.
Everything changed.
Everything? Im not your son anymore? In a split second?
You never were.
Paul stood up abruptly.
So blood is what matters to you, not the years we shared?
Its not that simple.
How isnt it? You learn about the test and instantly disown me.
Im not disowning you
You are! Yesterday I was your son, today Im not!
Paul headed for the door.
Where are you going?
Home. Sort out your blood.
The door slammed. Victor was left alone.
Later Mary came back, shaking.
Where have you been? she asked.
At Tanyas. Thought we could talk properly, Victor said.
What about? she pressed.
Us. The family.
What family? You tore it apart thirtyfive years ago.
I built it! I gave birth, raised, loved!
A son that isnt yours.
My son! Your son too!
Not mine.
Mary sat down, eyes wet.
Vic, remember how happy you were when he was born. How you rocked him, taught him to walk.
That was before I learned the truth.
The truth is youre his father, the real one, not the guy who got him pregnant and disappeared.
Victor stayed silent.
Paul cried today. A grown man crying, hurting. Doesnt that hurt you?
Does it hurt me? Victor asked.
Yes. But hes not at fault.
No fault. And Im nothing to him.
How can I be nothing? Hes my son!
Not my son.
Mary stood, voice firm.
Then live with your tests. Were done without you.
That night Victor couldnt sleep, replaying Pauls childhood the sore throat, the fear of injections, the bedtime stories Victor read, the pride at school prizes, the graduation speeches. All the love in those photos. Could a lab result erase that?
A week passed. Victor went to work, ate in silence, Marys attempts at conversation got curt replies. Paul didnt call.
On Saturday Victor was alone. Mary had gone to her sisters cottage. He leafed through old albums Paul in his pram, first steps, a threeyearold birthday cake, the school ceremony in a little suit, the graduation, the university defence where Paul thanked his parents. Every picture sang of love.
Victor closed the album, tears finally spilling.
That evening Paul rang.
Dad, can I come over?
Come on over, Victor said.
Paul arrived half an hour later, looking exhausted.
Howre you? Victor asked.
Honestly, not great.
They sat, silence stretching.
Dad, Ive figured something out. I dont care who my biological father is. To me, youre Dad. End of story.
Victor looked at him, heart thudding.
Pasha
Let me finish. Thirtyfive years you were my dad. You taught me, protected me, Im proud of you. A test cant change that.
But Im not yours biologically.
Father? Of course I am! Who drove me to the hospital when I broke my arm? Who sat at parentteacher meetings? Who paid for my tuition?
Victor was silent.
Some parents are linked by blood, some by life. Youre my life parent. That matters more than any DNA strand.
Victor swallowed.
I dont know what to do now
Dont. Just keep living. Were a family.
Dad, it hurts. It really hurts.
I get it. The pain will pass, but the family stays.
Paul stood.
Dad, tomorrows Sunday. Come over, Lucys making stew.
Im not sure
Please, Dad. It would mean a lot.
The next morning Victor took ages to get ready. Mary waited, silent. He finally slipped on his coat.
Lets go.
At Pauls house it was as cosy as ever. Lucy greeted them with a smile, acting as if nothing had changed. They chatted about work, holiday plans, the usual banter.
Victor watched Paul, the man whod called him dad for three and a half decades, sharing his joys, asking for advice, caring for his mum. Could blood ever outweigh that?
After lunch Paul drove them to the car.
Thanks for coming, Dad.
Thanks to you.
For what?
For being here. For putting up with me. For staying my son.
Paul hugged him tightly.
Where will I go? Youre still my dad.
Back home Mary asked, How was it?
Fine. Weve got a good son.
Our son, Victor corrected, smiling.
Marys eyes filled with tears of relief.
Im sorry, Vic. I never wanted to hurt you.
I know. And Im sorry too, for the weeks of silence.
So we keep going?
We do. No more secrets.
Victor wrapped his arms around Mary. Thirtyfive years ago life handed him a son, not by blood but by love, and that turned out to be the real deal.
Family isnt about DNA. Its about the years you share, the laughs, the tears, the love that sticks around no matter what a lab says. Paul will always be my son, and thats all that matters.
