An adult stories – Exposed by DNA – The Ghost Dad by chymera,chymera Since so many readers felt that the main character in the last story should have done DNA testing, I thought there should be one where testing was done. It doesn’t always come out like you think.
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The baby’s blood type made no sense to me. I was O and Belinda was O, yet our newborn Jacob was A. My mother was type A. Could the blood type skip a generation?
When the doctor confirmed my fears, that No, it didn’t skip generations, I was floored. Literally. I fainted and landed face down. But my nose cushioned the blow. I woke up on a gurney with a nurse trying to staunch the blood flow and my wife clutching my hand and weeping.
I rudely shoved the nurse aside and asked Belinda, “Why? I thought you loved me.”
“I do!” she sobbed. “I’ve never cheated. They had to have mixed up the babies.”
That made sense to me. Belinda loved me. I knew that. She wouldn’t cheat.
Once my nose was under control and my bloody shirt was replaced with a scrub, we headed to the hospital director’s office. It was a short meeting. Before he could get his lawyer to his office, we demanded DNA tests on Jacob, Belinda and myself, and a commitment to DNA test all the babies that were born the same day as our son. That was if, as we suspected, the testing showed that Jacob wasn’t ours. We promised that if this was straightened out immediately, there would be no need for lawyers on our part. Of course, we couldn’t promise anything about what Jacob’s real parents would demand.
They put a rush on the testing, and after a sleepless night alone at home for me, and in her hospital bed for Belinda, we were back in the director’s office. With him were the hospital’s lawyer and a doctor who would interpret the results for us.
I immediately challenged the director. “We’re not related to Jacob, are we?”
His eyes dropped to the desk and then flicked to the doctor, giving him the go-ahead to speak.
“Yes,” the doctor began, “you are related. Your wife is Jacob’s mother. A straight 50% match with the child.”
“What about Tony?” my wife demanded.
The doctor pursed his lips while he looked at her. Then he looked at me. I could see reluctance in his eyes. “Yes,” he began again, and my heart leaped with relief. “You are also related. A 25% match.”
“25%? Who’s the other 25%?” I was seated, but I wobbled in the chair, almost falling out. “What does this mean?”
Again, the doctor looked reluctant. “You are Jacob’s uncle. His father would be a brother of yours.”
Belinda shrieked, and cried out repeatedly that it was impossible. I had three brothers, none of whom I would have suspected of hurting me this way. But then, I never suspected Belinda, yet the hospital was offering proof that I had been wronged.
I got up and left the room, dimly aware that my wife was holding on to my arms, begging me to stay, telling me that the DNA was wrong, that we’d get the test done again from a better place. I looked at her dumbly, shook her off my arm and ran out of the building.
As I drove out of the parking lot, I had a plan in mind. I phoned my mother, telling her that there was a problem with the baby, and I needed to meet in an hour, with my father and brothers, at my parents’ house. I hung up as she began asking what was wrong. I knew she would have my family gathered in no time.
I parked on a side road and let my misery overwhelm me. My wife and my brother? Which brother? And why? Why would they do this to me?
My older two brothers were both married, with kids of their own. Both as far as I knew were happy in their wedded bliss. But again, what did I know? I thought Belinda and I were happy. I thought I had a son! I began weeping when I remembered the joy that I’d felt holding my son in my arms. My heart broke more at the loss of Jacob than the loss of Belinda.
When the hour had passed, I started the car and finished the drive to my folk’s house. As I walked in the door, I was greeted by my concerned relatives, all offering to do whatever it took to save my son.
I got everyone seated in the living room. I thought it was interesting that they all were sitting on the edge of their seat. I tried to figure out who looked guilty and failed.
“The thing is, I’m not Jacob’s father.” That statement was greeted by a hush, followed by denials, “I-can’t- believe-thats” and my mother insisting that Belinda would never have done that to me. I shook my head and signaled for quiet.
“We had the DNA tested. Belinda is Jacob’s mother, and” I paused for effect, “I’m his paternal uncle.”
My mother gasped and her hands flew to her mouth as she looked at my brothers. My father jumped out of his chair and yelled, “NO!” My brothers looked at each other accusingly and protested their innocence.
“Well, then, Dad? What other sons do you have?” My mother gasped again. “Have you cheated on Mom?” I demanded.
My father looked like he was going to belt me. Then he caught himself and the anger drained from his eyes. “No, of course not. Your mother is the only woman I’ve ever been with. She’s always been more than enough for me.” He looked at my brothers. “How do we settle this.”
“DNA tests on everyone.” I responded. Without hesitation, all my brothers agreed, again protesting their innocence.
We went back to the hospital, where my wife flew into my mother’s arms, weeping and denying any possibility that Jacob wasn’t my son. “It’s impossible! It’s impossible,” she repeated over and over.
Back in the director’s office, I demanded that they test my brothers. The director hesitated, saying that the hospital was no longer involved, since they’d proven that the child was Belinda’s. If a mistake had been made, it was one the hospital wasn’t responsible for.
The doctor had been looking at my older brothers. He asked if twins ran in my family. My father answered that while they had had only one set of twins, my brothers, both he and my wife were twins and had twin siblings in both their families.
The doctor told the director that the testing should be done, but that they would require a sperm sample from me.
“A sperm sample? Why? My sperm has nothing to do with this.” I was incensed by the doctor’s demand. It felt like he was rubbing my face in the betrayal.
“Well, just a hunch, but if you want the DNA testing done by the hospital, you’ll agree.” The doctor led my brothers from the room to go to the lab for bloodwork.
My wife was still enfolded in my mother’s arms. When I saw her looking at her, my heart leapt at the despair in her eyes. I couldn’t help myself. I opened my arms and she rushed to me. She began repeated that Jacob had to be mine, that it didn’t matter what the test said, she would never cheat on me.
I kissed the top of her head and shushed her. I told her I loved her, that I didn’t want to lose her, but that I was hurt, that my heart was breaking. She squeezed me tighter, frantically denying any wrongdoing.
The doctor came back and pulled me away to give my sample. It took forever. Have you ever tried to masturbate while sobbing your heart out? It was not easy. I had to worry about contaminating the sample with my tears. Aiming when your eyes are blurry is also problematic.
I brought Belinda and her son home that night. While comforting Jacob when he awoke crying throughout the night, she also comforted me as I cried through the night as well. She told me that it would work out, that it had to. That Jacob’s was mine, that she was mine and only mine.
The reports on my brothers were ready the next day. None of them were a match for Jacob. I’m not sure who was more relieved, my parents, siblings, or me. Belinda wasn’t affected at all. She had known all along they wouldn’t match.
I took my father aside and pressed him again about the possibility of another son. He said there wasn’t any chance at all, but that he’d spoken to the doctor who pointed out that I wouldn’t have been a 25% match with a sibling from another mother. I hadn’t thought of that. But then we were out of likely suspects.
The doctor called the next day, asking if he could drop by our house for a meeting. I agreed and called the family to gather at Belinda’s and my house. Belinda was smiling now that my brothers were cleared. She felt that she had been cleared too. She also told my mother that my bringing her and Jacob home showed that despite everything, I loved her. When I heard that, I had to smile. I did love her. I looked down at the baby in my arms and realized I loved him as well.
When the doctor showed up, the reluctance in his eyes was gone. He smiled at Jacob and Belinda, my family and finally, me. “It’s all good, Mr. Downing. I have answers now.”
He waited until we were all seated, and he had our rapt attention. “You, sir,” he smiled ear to ear, “are a chimera!”
That brought the question to my lips, “What the hell is a chimera?”
The doctor almost danced with excitement. “Let me back up a bit. First of all, you were a twin!”
My mother blurted, “No, he wasn’t! I think I would have remembered that.”
“Yes,” the doctor insisted. “He had a fraternal twin in the womb with him. But he absorbed his brother’s fetus. And to this day, he has cells from his brother in him. He absorbed his brother so early before his immune system fully developed, so it believed that his brother’s cells were part of him and left them undisturbed!
“Some of these have become germ line cells, like in the sperm that fathered Jacob. Your brother inherited blood type A from your mother, while you inherited the O from your father. Jacob inherited his blood type from your brother!” The doctor was grinning ear to ear, happy at working out the mystery. My family and I sat, dumbfounded.
“So, I’m my son’s uncle, and my dead brother is his father?” I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say much more, with Belinda’s arms around my neck from behind, choking me as she planted kisses on the side of my face.
The tension exploded as my brothers began whooping and my parents hugged each other in relief.
The doctor tried to explain how rare this situation was, and my brothers were breaking out my booze and forcing it on the doctor, toasted my son and my ghost brother, my son’s father. It was bizarre and the noise woke the sleeping guest of honor. Belinda and I rushed to hold him, and to hold each other.
Belinda looked up at me and said, “You really didn’t think I’d cheat on you, did you?”
Tears welled in my eyes. “It was the worst thought I could have had. I was so afraid that I’d lost you and had lost Jacob, I could hardly think.”
“Well,” my wife smiled at me, “you’d better get your swimmers exercising, because next time they’d better be faster than your brother’s!”