21
Ethan came home one day with some juicy
gossip.
Apparently, Janet had a side piece. A long-
term one, even longer than her affair with my
dad.
And the real kicker?
Sarah might not be my dad’s kid.
E
Ethan spread some photos on the coffee table. “I’m having someone look into it. I’ll
have answers tomorrow.”
The next day, I went straight to Sarah. I
couldn’t wait for Ethan’s report.
Old grudges and new, her eyes were
practically spitting fire.
I didn’t waste time on pleasantries. I slapped
her.
“Who told you to talk trash about me?” I lied.
I hadn’t heard anything, but she deserved it
anyway.
Sarah was stunned.
Then she lunged at me.
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It was a short, brutal fight. I walked away with
a handful of Sarah’s hair.
I sent Michael to the hospital to “massage”
my dad and snag a couple of his hairs.
That afternoon, Ethan sent me his findings.
Janet had been using my dad’s money to
support another man.
And Sarah was probably his kid.
I waited a few days for the DNA results.
Ethan was right.
ད;་ཡ༔ ༔
packaged it all neatly and had it delivered to
the hospital.
My dad deserved a front–row seat to this
show.
Twenty years, and he was still wearing that
green hat.
Predictably, he exploded.
Apparently, my semi–paralyzed father leaped
out of bed, tore up his will, and threw Sarah
out of the hospital.
He froze her bank accounts.
He troze her bank accounts.
Two days later, he started calling me.
I blocked him. He used different numbers.
He was relentless.
I got a new phone number.
I’d forgotten to block him on WeChat, so I
bombarded with long, rambling messages.
Apologies. Excuses.
I skimmed a couple, then blocked him there
too.
<
He wasn’t sorry for hurting me or my mom.
He was scared.
Old. Alone. Nothing left but his dwindling
funds and the nurse wiping his drool.
I did send him one last message before blocking him: “I told you. We’re done. If you’re
lonely, maybe consider your nurse. Single.
Good with her hands. I’m sure she’d be happy
to help you shuffle off this mortal coil.”
<
