“Well,” Debbie shifted in her seat. “I guess we will have to wait and see. Right now, I need to take you to the courthouse, which is where the test will be performed. We should know really soon whether it’s a match or not.”
My heart hit the floor. I didn’t want any more change. I’d done fine without a dad so far. Certainly didn’t need one now. “Why is he just now asking about me?”
Debbie opened her mouth to speak, but I interrupted. “Like why when I’m going on fourteen is he just now wanting to know whether he’s my dad?”
“Sometimes circumstances aren’t what they first seem—”
I huffed. People were the worst. Case workers, moms, dads, all of them. “I hope he’s not my dad.”
Sam, Debbie, and Jason exchanged looks. I sat back, crossed my arms, and almost rolled my eyes. Sam was forever telling us kids not to roll our eyes. Said it was disrespectful. I’m not sure how one tiny eye movement could be perceived as disrespectful. But whatever.
Sam leaned toward me and put a hand on my knee. Her southern drawl was always soothing, sweet, and gentle. She was good to all of us. “Sunny, I know the potential of finding family might be a little scary. We can deal with all those feelings and talk it out if you want. But right now, all we have to do is check, okay?”
“Fine.”
Debbie grabbed her keys and said a few things to me about how the test worked as we walked to her car. I wasn’t listening though. My mind was swirling like a tornado. What if this dude was my dad? Would I have to meet him? Would he want me to live with him? Would I have to leave my friends? What if I hated him?
Or what if I liked him and hedidn’twant me?
Maybe that was the scariest thought of all. And it made my eyes burn with stupid tears. Why was I such a crier? Ihatedbeing a crier.
It was better to not have a dad. Based on my track record with things like “family,” it’d be best for me to simply age out. Everyone talked about aging out like it was the worst thing ever. I’d been thinking a lot about it though, and I had a good plan for what I’d do and where I’d go once I turned eighteen. There were even whole organizations to help me figure it out.
Family is overrated.
That’s what I’ve been telling myself, anyway.
* * *
The man at the courthouse leaned down, holding a swab up to my face. “Open up.”
I opened my mouth, and he gently scraped the inside of my cheek with the stick. Took about two seconds. Didn’t hurt. Wasn’t even uncomfortable. He stuck the swab into a tube and placed a plastic cap on it.
“All done!” He smiled, removing his gloves. “Easy peasy!”
Seemed too simple.
So much could ride on a literal two second test. Debbie and the man chatted about the timeframe. We’d know in a couple weeks most likely. Didn’t matter. Waiting five minutes would seem like forever.
My feet were heavier than usual as I walked back to the car. Or maybe I was just feeling a little tired.
THIRTY-SIX
Patrick
Jules and I became an official couple.
I loved doing life with her. We both returned to work, and she got her license back. The days slipped into weeks and—to Jules’ delight—the temperature started dropping. We kept attending AA, hanging out, and walking many miles together. I continued therapy and put the Pleasant Gap house up on the market. Danny was a bit disappointed, but he understood.
I also hovered over my phone, jumping at every noise it made. I was expecting a call any day about the results of the paternity test. Being with my girlfriend made the wait easier.
Fray and Jules adopted the mission of civilizing me. Apparently, I wasn’t integrated into the twenty-first century enough for their liking. They agreed I was the most boring person on planet earth, so they persistently showed me some new artist, made me watch iconic movies, and insisted I learn the essential technical skills. Which according to them, essential skills boiled down to not being the wet blanket in a group chat. I humored them. Learned how to react to text messages, even sent a few memes and gifs. They swooned.
We instituted game night when Fray was home from work, watching Brady. He’d put Brady into bed, and we’d break out Takis and Sour Patch Kids. Monopoly, Settlers of Catan, and Poker kept us busy many nights. Whatever we played was enthralling. I never knew Monopoly could be so fun, but Fray added—in a way Fray alone can—a level of hilarity to just about everything he did. Jules was cleaning house the last time we played, and Fray gripped a pencil between his teeth, Jimmy Stewart style, stuttering, “But Mr. Potter!” Fray even had a ceremony for his last two remaining dollars, dancing around the room with them like they did in the riveting scene fromIt’s a Wonderful Life.
Jules accepted the Potter role, full on. Giggling and licking her fingers, she counted her dollars like a true tyrant. She was precious, and I treasured every minute with her.
The laughter we shared those nights changed me. Slowly morphed me from the man I was into the man I longed to be. Helped me release the burden of the past and embrace the hope of the future. I owe a lot to game night. To Fray and Jules.
