Once again my thanks go to Mike0422 for his invaluable editing skils. If you find any mistakes then we both miss them, and so well done you.
On with the show
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Yvonne was a planner.
From an early age, she had a plan for what her life would be like. What her career would be like, whom she would marry, how many kids she would have, and where she would live. She had a plan for it all.
I didn’t become aware of her plans for me, until I was in my mid-teens.
She was two months older than me, but I had known her literally all my life. Her mother and my mother were friends and had been so since school. They lived a block away from us and we spent lots of time visiting each other’s houses.
I learned later, from my mother, that Yvonne had, at the age of five, marched up to her and with great dignity, told her that we would marry when we had both finished college.
I was finally clued in on her plans for me on my 14th birthday.
We were in my bedroom playing video games and chatting. As our bodies developed my feelings for Yvonne started to mutate from peer friendship into a more lustful one, but I had not dared to act on it for two main reasons. Firstly, because I didn’t want to mess up our friendship, and second because I saw what she did to a classmate of ours, Jeff, when he had tried to touch her boob.
I won’t go into detail, but he was walking like John Wayne for the rest of the day. She could be pretty scary.
We did get to a stage where our parents started to get uneasy about us being in the same room alone, and then that unease seemed to stop suddenly when I was about 13. I found out much later that Yvonne had got our mothers together and had a chat. It went something like this.
“Why is it a problem that Phil and I are alone together in his, or my, bedroom,” She asked bluntly.
“Well honey,” her mother said, “as you get older, your bodies change and…”
“You think we might be having sex?” Yvonne interrupted.
That seemed to throw the adults somewhat.
“Umm, well, we just don’t want for things to happen that might…”
“Here.” Yvonne held out her 10-year planner. Knowing her penchant for planning things out I had bought it for her 14th birthday. She had spent days writing it every chance she could. I caught a peek at a page once but she made cryptic notes and used symbols that meant nothing to me.
Puzzled her mother took the diary and looked at her daughter.
“What am I looking at?” she asked
Yvonne took the diary back, riffled through the pages and then gave it back, Pointing to a specific entry.
“Phil’s 18th Birthday.” Yvonne’s mum said. “So?”
“Look at the entry” Yvonne replied.
They both looked at the page. They could see the date, could see she had written Phil, 18th but underneath she had written something that looked like a mathematical formula. V, squared with a line through it.
They both looked at her even more puzzled now.
“What does that mean?” my mother asked.
“That means that on his 18th birthday, Phil and I are both going to lose our virginities. To each other.”
I have no idea why, but that seemed to settle the issue, and from then on, neither set of parents had a problem with us being alone together.
So back to my 14th Birthday.
As I said we were in my bedroom playing a racing game that Yvonne had bought me for my birthday. As I was playing my turn she was idly flicking through her ever-present planner.
“Which do you prefer Suzanne or Susan?” she asked.
“I don’t like Suzanne, she is a spoiled brat, and I don’t know anyone called Susan,” I said puzzled.
“No, not the people, I meant the names?” she responded.
“Why would I need to choose between names?” I asked.
“For our first baby, if it’s a girl. If it’s a boy I’m leaning towards James, although I like Robert too.”
I crashed my race car.
“That is a really sneaky way of putting me off” I complained.
She looked up at me from her book and smiled.
“I wasn’t trying to put you off, it was a real question.”
I stared at her, open-mouthed.
“You want to choose baby names for OUR first baby?” I asked incredulously.
“Mmm-Hmm” she acknowledged.
I continued to stare at her in silence. Lost for words.
She looked at me and smiled gently.
“I have known since I was 5 years old that you and I were going to be married. Why are you surprised that we would have children?”
“And do I get any say in these grand plans of yours?” I asked rather irritably.
“Of course you do,” she said “That’s what I was asking. Do you prefer Suzanne or Susan?”
They say that man makes plans and god laughs. Well in Yvonne’s case, she made plans and the universe rolled over and said OK!
As planned, we both lost our virginities on my 18th birthday. Weirdly my parents had even booked us a hotel room as part of my birthday present. After all, they had had several years to come to terms with the idea, and we were engaged by this time in any case.
We were married as soon as we graduated college. My major was engineering and hers was marketing and communication. Her plan was that it would be easier for her to drop in and out of the workforce to have our babies with that major, and I would find a decent, well-paid job to provide for our family.
It sounds, even to me as I read this back, that I am being led around by some part of my anatomy and allowing my life to be mapped out by Yvonne. In some ways that is true. But what you have to consider is that in most instances the plans Yvonne makes are made after a lot of discussion. Since the announcement of our wedding on my 14th birthday, which I’ll admit did blindside me a little, every major decision in our lives has been made between us. We probably communicate more and better than most married couples. It’s just that Yvonne likes to plan ahead. To be honest I have come to find it liberating. We can be, and are, spontaneous in the moment, but the big decisions about our lives and the paths they will take are made, and we can relax and enjoy the journey.
There were times when even Yvonne’s plans had to change for some reason or other, like when I fell off a machine I was inspecting and broke my leg, meaning that a skiing vacation we had planned the previous year had to be postponed, but on the whole, things worked out as expected.
The best thing about our relationship is how secure I felt within it. I always knew, without any doubt, that Yvonne loved me, and I loved her. It had taken me a while to recognise what I felt for her as love, but once the realisation hit, it was a revelation.
About a year after we were married, we were invited to a party by one of her friends from work. During the evening I was chatting to various people, and we both danced with each other, and other people and I kind of got separated from Yvonne. I wasn’t worried. She had never given me cause to think she would do anything I wouldn’t approve of.
I eventually saw her sat with a group of women giggling like schoolgirls, all looking like they had had more than enough to drink, and I started to go over to her.
As I approached, I heard one of the other girls say.
“Come on Yvonne, it’s your turn. We have told you, our secrets. Spill!”
I held back a little, wanting to hear what she would say.
She looked around but didn’t spot me as I had tucked myself in behind a large plant.
“Ok,” she said, “But this better not go any further, Phil doesn’t know.”
They all agreed, but I was starting to get nervous.
“I’ve been seeing someone.” she said.
My world lurched.
They all gasped.
“You’re having an affair?” one of the girls asked, half in horror and half with what could only be described as delight.
“What? NO!!” Yvonne answered. “Why the hell would you think that?”
“DUH! Because you just said you were seeing someone.”
“I meant a therapist. A Sex therapist to be precise.”
“A sex therapist?” another girl asked, “Why, is Phil not…”
“Of course he is” Yvonne snapped. “We have a great time in the bedroom. But since both of us were virgins when we got together, I wanted to give him something extra, something new. I don’t want him getting bored so I thought if I saw the therapist, they could help me introduce some variety for him.”
“And this therapist, is he giving you ‘instruction'” the first girl asked lewdly.
“He, is a she, and I think she is about 60 years old. We talk, she refers me to books and describes exercises I can do. You know like Kegel exercises. Also she gave me links to instructional videos an stuff I might like to try.”
I breathed a long sigh.
“Huh! So as far as Phil goes you are just a sex object?” the second girl asked.
“Oh, Fuck Off Janice. Phil didn’t ask me to do this. He has never once complained about our sex life, and always, ALWAYS makes sure I’m satisfied. He’ll go down on me before, during or after we fuck and for as long as I let him, and he has never refused me anything. I decided to do this for us. Anyway, you asked I answered. It’s someone else’s turn.”
“He goes down on you for as long as you want. Whenever you want?” Janice asked.
“Yes. Now can we change the subject?”
“Can I borrow him for a while?” she asked.
Yvonne laughed. “Fuck off, he’s mine!!”
A few minutes later I approached the group. Yvonne took one look at me and knew.
I’ll never know how she does that, but she can read me like a book.
“Thanks a lot, bitches” she said only half joking “Now he knows, he must have overheard.”
The girls all looked at me. Janice was blushing.
A number of comments went through my mind, but I settled on what I thought would be the safest.
“Sorry Janice, I have a one woman tongue.”
Janice blushed harder but Yvonne smiled.
Later, at home Yvonne said.
“I’m sorry you heard that. I wanted it to be a surprise. How much did you hear?”
“I came into the conversation just as you said you were seeing someone.”
“Oooh, I’ll bet that made your ass twitch” she said grinning.
“Like a rabbit’s nose,” I replied. “Fortunately, the qualification came quickly.”
She came over and hugged me. “I’m sorry. I never want to hurt you. Even for a second. I’ll have to admit I phrased it like that on purpose just to titillate the girls. If I had known you were within earshot, I wouldn’t have said it like that.”
“It’s fine. If nothing it served to remind me just how much you mean to me. That second proved to me how bad it would be for me to lose you.”
“That was never my intent,” she said looking up at me.
“I know.”
The pregnancy was planned, Yvonne wanted a late spring baby, she didn’t want to be carrying through the summer, so we planned the conception for late September or early October.
Fortunately, (or unfortunately) we were both fertile and within two weeks of starting to try for a baby, she was gleefully showing me a positive pregnancy test.
I attended as many of the pre-natal classes as I was able, which since Yvonne was dong the planning was ALL OF THEM!!!.
The plan was also for me to be in the room for the birth.
I had a choice of being at the head end with Yvonne, or down at the business end to welcome our new daughter. (We had decided to find out the sex as soon as they had offered to tell us. It gave us chance to plan and prepare the nursery).
I decided to wimp out and be at the top end with Yvonne. I’m not overly squeamish but I was worried that seeing her push a person out of her vagina might give me some flashbacks I might regret in later life.
Yvonne did really well. She managed the whole process without an epidural, and without taking any major painkillers. Her only pain relief was the Entonox gas, which I have to admit looked like a lot of fun. I haven’t seen her drunk often but she was completely off her face on that stuff. I wanted to try it, mainly because she was crushing the fuck out of my hand.
The baby arrived, and the cord was cut. The doctors taking the baby across the room to do whatever it is that they do, before wrapping her up.
I have to say the nurse seemed a little hesitant as she approached me with the bundle of new life.
“Say Hi to daddy” she said.
“For an instant, I looked down at that beautiful baby. Her warm brown eyes, the soft brown curls on her head, and the love I felt eclipsed anything and everything I had ever felt before. My heart swelled with pride and joy. And then shattered. The baby I had just been handed, that had just come out of my wife, my lover, my soulmate, was mixed race.”
Gently I handed her back to the nurse, not trusting myself to say, or do anything else.
I didn’t even look at Yvonne as I left the room.
Walking through the waiting area, past the two sets of parents who had been waiting anxiously I ignored their questions. I’m not sure I even heard them.
The doctor had followed me out of the room and as I left the waiting area, he took me gently by the arm and guided me into a small consultation room.
I heard him talking but couldn’t understand what he was saying. He tried again.
“I take it you are going to challenge the parentage of the child?” he asked dispassionately.
“You think?” I snarled. Anger was starting to well within me now.
“Then it would be advisable for me to get a DNA comparison done as soon as possible.” He said.
“Why?” I asked “is the colour of her skin not enough?”
“For legal purposes, no.” He reached into a drawer and drew out a swab.
I allowed him to take a cheek swab and then I left the hospital.
My phone rang. It was Yvonne. I declined the call. It rang again, declined again. It rang a third time, I changed the settings to send all calls to voicemail. I didn’t want to turn it off, I needed to make some plans of my own.
Driving home, I packed a case, enough for a week or so, and grabbed my laptop. I had no idea where I was going but I knew I couldn’t stay here. I was just loading it into my car when her father’s car arrived.
“Phil!” he shouted “Wait a minute…”
I ignored him, got in my car, and drove away. I think he tried to follow but I drive a lot faster than he does and I soon lost him in traffic. My phone was pinging like a video game telling me I had more and more messages. I ignored it.
After an hour of aimless driving, I spotted a motel, and making sure my car was not visible from the roadway I booked myself in for a week.
I didn’t need to phone my work, I was on paternity leave already, and was not due back for another week, so that was not a problem.
I would like to say that I started to make plans. That I moved money, emptied my savings account cashed in my 401k, but I did none of those things. I just slumped down on the bed in the room and wept.
That level of emotion is exhausting. I had cried myself out and was sitting staring at the wall, numb. I had been completely blindsided. They say that the husband is the last to know but I couldn’t comprehend that she had been cheating on me. When did it happen? How and with whom?
Given that the whole pregnancy had been so meticulously planned I couldn’t believe that this was accidental. She must have planned to do this. To present me with another man’s baby. To what purpose? Did she hate me so much that she wanted to destroy me, or did she think that by doing that I would just have to accept the baby as if she were my own and raise another man’s child like a good little cuckold?
Well if that were her plan, then she didn’t know me at all. As beautiful as the baby was if she was not mine, I wanted nothing to do with her. That thought shot another bolt of pain through me. When the nurse handed me that little bundle, I had met those beautiful brown eyes and had been lost. I had imprinted on that little girl and now had not only lost the woman that I trusted and loved my entire life, but the child I had known for but an instant, yet still loved with excruciating pain.
My phone beeped again, I received a message.
“Daddy, I miss you please come back!” There was a picture and, once again, I was gazing into those beautiful brown eyes.”
I threw my phone at the wall and missed. I couldn’t even do that right. It thudded into the padded headboard of the bed and fell on the bed. The face of that beautiful child stared at me. I turned the phone off.
I went back to being curled up on the bed.
The night was spent in hell. I guess I must have slept but I was haunted by dreams. I saw the baby, whom we were going to call Suzanne, reaching out, and even though she was a new-born she was saying “Daddy! Daddy!” In my nightmare I reached for her, only to be pushed out of the way by a huge black man, who picked her up and then turned to look at me “This is MY daughter, not yours. He then looked across at a woman standing off to the side. I looked too and I recognized Yvonne. “And that’s MY Woman,” he said, laughing.
I started out of the nightmare, sitting bolt upright. Tears were streaming down my face.
I left the motel room and walked across the street. Again you might expect that I would go to a bar and get drunk. But I had no motivation. I needed to be on the move though. Sitting still gave me time to think. Walking at least dulled the pain for a while.
The light was starting to fade when my stomach decided to remind me that I had not eaten for at least 20 hours, so I headed for a small, boxcar style, diner I could see a block down. I didn’t have any real desire to eat, I just had nothing better to do.
We had always had plans. For all of my adult life, I knew what we were doing, where we were going, and how we were going to get there. Now I had nothing. There was no ‘We’ there were no plans there was no direction. I was a dismasted, rudderless ship in a stormy sea, and there were reefs all around.
The diner was noisy but had few customers in at this time. There was music playing on an old fashioned juke box and I slipped into an empty booth at the opposite end to the door.
The waitress, a plump motherly lady, came over and placed a menu in front of me.
“Can I get you a drink while you decide?” She asked.
A decision. I needed to make a decision. I couldn’t. Mutely I shook my head. And she moved away to tend to her other tables.
Then it happened. Someone had selected Marillions Sugar Mice on the jukebox.
“I was flicking through the channels on the TV
On a Sunday in Milwaukee in the rain
Trying to piece together conversations
Trying to find out where to lay the blame
But when it comes right down to it there’s no use trying to pretend
For when it gets right down to it there’s no one here that’s left to blame
Blame it on me, you can blame it on me
We’re just sugar mice in the rain”
Blame it on me?
Was I to blame?
Did I do something to drive her into the bed of another man?
I remembered the night of the party when she told those other women that she was seeing a sex therapist. She had said that she was satisfied with our sex life, but what if that was just her not wanting to admit to a problem? Why would she need a sex therapist if there wasn’t a problem with the sex we were having?
She said that she wanted to try something new. Well, it looked like she had found something new alright but why would she rub it in my face in such a way. Yvonne planned everything. She must have known that Suzanne wasn’t my baby. Why go through the charade of having my baby only to present me with another man’s child in such a way. She must really hate me to do that to me. I must have really done something bad to deserve that.
I had missed a lot of the song during my musings, but the last few lines worked their way into my consciousness.
So if you want my address it’s number one at the end of the bar
Where I sit with the broken angels clutching at straws and nursing our scars
Blame it on me, blame it on me,
Sugar mice in the rain, your daddy took a raincheck
I couldn’t stay in here any longer.
Leaving a $10 bill on the table, even though I hadn’t ordered anything, I left the diner and started to walk back in the direction of the motel. My stomach still complained that it was empty, but I just felt sick.
On the way back, I called into a pharmacy and bought a box of Benadryl. I knew that I was particularly sensitive to them and that they would knock me out. That’s what I needed now. I needed oblivion.
Once I was back in my room, I took four of the tablets, washed them down with water from the sink, and collapsed on the bed.
It was just after 9am the next morning when I surfaced once more. I had had a solid 10 hours of sleep and although I was a little sore from all the walking I had done yesterday I felt better.
After a shower and a change of clothes I decided that I had spent far too long feeling sorry for myself, and now I needed to start thinking. My old life was over, and I needed to move on and start making plans for my new life. The first step being, I needed to file for divorce.
It never even occurred to me that I might stay with Yvonne and raise Suzanne, no matter how much the little girl had wormed her way into my heart.
It wasn’t just the fact that Yvonne had been unfaithful, or even that she had had another man’s child. It was the fact that it was planned. Cold, calculated and cruel, to inflict maximum hurt and humiliation on me. There was no way I could stay with someone who could do that to me, to someone she claimed to love.
I picked up my phone and saw more texts and calls I had missed. Wary of another picture ambush, I deleted all the texts and voicemails from Yvonne’s and her parents’ numbers. I did listen to the first of the voicemails from my mother and was even more disappointed to hear her telling me to talk to Yvonne. She said that she could explain everything. I didn’t listen to the whole message. My feelings of betrayal grew, and I deleted the rest of the texts and messages. I then blocked all their numbers.
I found a local family lawyer, a woman called Sybil Cross who had an office 4 blocks from the motel I was staying in. She had a slot available just after lunch, so I decided to walk down.
My stomach couldn’t be denied any longer, but it had to make do with a sandwich I picked up from a deli on the way.
I was just finishing the sandwich as I walked into the lawyer’s office.
I threw the paper into the trash bin by the reception desk and told the receptionist that I had an appointment.
I was shown into her office straight away.
“Good afternoon” she said “I understand from my secretary that you are looking to get divorced” she said smiling sadly.
I nodded.
Carefully, trying not to break down yet again I explained the situation. I showed her the pictures of Yvonne, and then of Suzanne.
“Such a shame” she said, “She is such a cutie.”
For some reason that gave me a glow of pride, then the memory of the big black man from my dream telling me that she was NOT my daughter popped into my head and that glow turned to a searing pain.
“I must tell you that we live in a no-fault state. So, you cannot file on the grounds of adultery. Did you sign the birth certificate?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Even so the courts will want DNA evidence that she is not yours. Did the doctors take a sample from you?”
I nodded again.
We spoke financials. Since I had everything from my bank available on my phone, I was able to give her all the details she needed, and she talked me through what I needed to do. We did it there and then, except for cashing in my 401k. I also needed to contact my HR department and change things like beneficiaries for insurances etc.
“Even without child support, she will still get 50% of your assets and since she is not currently working the likelihood is that you will be on the hook for alimony, at least for a couple of years.” She said.
“I don’t care.” I replied.
“Are you sure there is no way you could…”
“No!”
“Have you spoken to her since..”
“No”
“I think it would be a good idea for you to speak..”
“NO!”
Sybil looked at me with sympathy.
“I know you are going through hell right now. Believe me I have been there. I promise you; you will come out the other side and you will survive. ”
“When is the soonest that you can file?” I asked.
“I can file this afternoon, and since I have a process server on staff, I can get the papers served tomorrow. Do you know where she is now?”
I looked at my phone and pulled up my Google maps app. I could see that Yvonne was at home. Then it hit me. I could see where she was, that meant that she could see where I was. She had known where I was and obviously didn’t care. I expected that she had already moved her lover into our house, perhaps even into our bed.
“She is at her home address” I said shutting off my phone. I needed to move motels.
After leaving the lawyers office, I went to the motel and saw my father knocking on the door of my room.
I walked around the back of the motel to where I had left my car, and just drove away. I had left my case in the motel but there wasn’t anything I couldn’t replace in it. Fortunately, I had put my laptop in the boot of my car. Motel rooms are notoriously insecure.
I bought a prepaid cell phone and called my lawyer, leaving a message to give her my new number. My phone, I had taken the battery out of so I couldn’t get caught out again. I bought a few essentials. Toiletries, underwear, a few t shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans, then I found another motel and settled in for the night.
The following afternoon I had a phone call from my lawyer.
“Your wife was served this morning” she said.
“She has asked to speak with you”
“No”
“I really think it is in your best interest to…”
“WHAT PART OF NO IS UNCLEAR!” I yelled into the phone.
There was silence.
“Listen I have seen the…”
I hung up the phone.
She rang back but I ignored it.
I went back to my motel and booted up my computer.
There were dozens of emails, from Yvonne, from my parents, from her parents each with delivery and read notifications. I deleted them all.
I sent Yvonne an email.
“Yvonne.
I need to collect the rest of my things from the house.
If you ever had any kind of feelings for me, please just let me get my stuff and I’ll get out of your way, so you and your new family can get on with your plans.
It would hurt me too much to see or talk to you so I’m begging you to just give me an hour, go to your parents or something, let me get my things and leave with what little dignity I have remaining.
If you are able to do that one small thing for me, please let me know a time I can come to the house.
Love always
Phil”
It was reflex for me to close my emails with that. Everything I ever wrote to her, cards, letters, emails I always closed that way. I was going to change it, but I realised that I couldn’t bear to do so. I still loved her.
I sent the message as it was.
The reply was almost instantaneous
“10 am Tomorrow.”
Was all she said.
I was nervous as I approached the house in the morning.
There were no cars outside, and she had left the garage door wide open too. Presumably to show that there were no cars there either.
I watched for a few minutes but saw no movement and so I decided to bite the bullet. I hoped against hope that she could show me at least some compassion and allow me this.
I opened the front door, and the living room was empty. Placing my house keys on the hall table, I wouldn’t need them again, I moved further into the room and came face to face with Yvonne.
“Hello Phil” she said gently.
I turned to leave again but came face to face with my father, blocking the door.
“Stop.” He began “You need to…”
Rage flooded through me, and I clenched my fist. Drawing back to hit him.”
My mother stepped in front of me, with Suzanne in her arms.
“Phil, Honey, Stop. It’s not what it seems. Let Yvonne explain.”
“I looked down at Suzanne. Once again, she gazed up at me serenely. Those captivating soft brown eyes. Then she broke my heart by stretching out a tiny chubby hand towards me.”
“She is beautiful” my mother said. Handing her to me.
I nodded. “But she’s a..”
“Stop talking right now, before you say something you will regret” my father interrupted.
I glared at him and continued.
“She is another mans’ child” I continued, a challenge in my tone.
“No” said Yvonne gently from behind me. “No, she isn’t”
I turned to face her, rocking Suzanne gently in my arms. It felt right.
“Come and sit down and I’ll explain.”
Defeated I sat down at the table, where there were several papers.
“Have you ever heard of atavism?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“It’s when a genetic trait, that has been dormant for a time, perhaps for generations suddenly shows up. Its sometimes known as a Throwback.”
“Does that mean she is sick?” I ask worrying for her.
Yvonne smiled.
“No. She is perfectly healthy.”
“About 140 years ago, my great, great, great something grandmother caused a scandal. She married a man by the name of Joshua Green. I have a picture of them here.”
She handed me a computer printout of a photograph of a striking woman, looking rather severe standing beside a tall, elegant-looking black man. It looked to be a wedding photograph.
“Their children married, but they all chose Caucasian partners, and their offspring also chose Caucasian partners and down the generations our family’s skin colour got lighter and lighter until we are as you see us now. Even so, we still carry the genes for dark skin in our DNA. It is rare, but it happens sometimes that the gene manifests in a child, and no matter the skin colour of the parents the child will be born either looking mixed race or even more like their ancestor.”
I looked at her, trying to assimilate what she had just told me, could it be true? Or was this some elaborate story just to try and make me believe…
“I have the DNA report from the hospital. I know the doctor insisted on swabbing you before you left. I have read the result, but I already knew. It’s more difficult for you. I can only imagine what you have been going through these past few days.”
“Before you open the envelope though” she said “And we WILL open the envelope, together, I want you to look at Suzanne. Look at the beautiful baby we made and open your heart. I know that if you do that, you will know the truth.”
I tore my eyes away from Yvonne and looked down. Once again, I was captivated by those eyes, those beautiful big brown eyes, and my heart overflowed with love for this beautiful little girl.
“Oh My God,” I exclaimed breaking down yet again, “What did I do??”
Yvonne came around the table and threw her arms around me. Somehow my mother managed to take Suzanne from me, and I clung to Yvonne, I couldn’t speak but I was trying to apologise over and over again. For abandoning her, for doubting her.
All the time she was holding me and rocking me gently, soothing me.
“There is nothing for you to be sorry for” she said “You had a massive shock, and I don’t know of anyone who wouldn’t see Suzanne and think what you thought. Our parents thought the same. It was only when the DNA came back, and I could show them the proof.”
“You must have felt so alone” I said, “How could I do that to you?”
She smiled.
“Just after you left,” she said “The nurses brought Suzanne to me. I was still high from the Gas I had been taking and I looked at her and wondered how you had managed to get me pregnant with a coloured baby. I wondered if you had been having an affair with a black woman”
“But..” I said.
“I know, “she said “I was high, and exhausted and had a shock. It was a fleeting thought, but it was there. I cannot blame you for thinking what you thought, which is eminently possible, when I thought what is clearly impossible. Given the evidence there is nobody, and I mean nobody who wouldn’t have drawn the conclusion you did. But I knew the truth, so I wasn’t worried for me. I just hurt for the pain I knew you were feeling. ”
“I’m so sorry. “I said “I spoiled everything. It was meant to be the happiest day of our lives and I turned it into…”
“You didn’t do anything.” She said firmly “It was just something that happened. I won’t say we were unlucky because, well, have you seen that beautiful girl? How could we possibly call that unlucky.”
I looked across the room at where my mother was sitting quietly rocking our baby. “Does she ever cry?” I asked
“Does she ever!” Yvonne said. That kid has a set of lungs to be proud of.
I smiled.
She handed me the DNA results.
“I don’t …” I began.
“Read it.” she demanded.
I opened the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper.
There were two columns. In the left column was Suzanne’s results, and in the right one, mine.
I didn’t understand the numbers underneath but there was one line that told the whole story.
Probability of paternity 99.9998%
Sybil kicked my ass for hanging up on her and then not answering her call, before withdrawing the divorce filing, wishing us good fortune, and sending me her bill.