Taming Damian(9)

"I'm not accusing you of shit. I'm stating a fact. I was just giving you  a chance to own up to your actions in front of your son before I tell  him the truth."

"Damian, don't listen to your father's lies! I don't know what's come over him."

"You whore! That's just it! I'm not his father! And I have proof!"

Sharp pain shot through my chest at my father's words. Is it really true? Is he not my father?

"What proof?! You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" she  spat at him as she pointed her finger at him accusingly. "I gave up  everything I ever had for this marriage-my fame, my modeling career, my  glamorous lifestyle-and for what? For you to work long hours at the  office and go on month-long business trips all over the world to meet  your billionaire clients while you leave me all by myself in this  lifeless house!"

I drew in a sharp intake of breath at my mother's words. Up until now,  I'd never thought she'd been unhappy. She had spent most days shopping,  having long lunches with friends at the country club, or going to the  spa.                       
       
           



       

Apparently my father was equally surprised by this revelation. "You  didn't seem so bored when you're spending my hard-earned money on  $50,000 shopping sprees and a brand-new car for our pool boy who you  screw on the side!"

I took a step back and braced my body against the wall for support. I  had grown up that thinking my parents were happy and loved each other. I  had grown up thinking that their marriage was the kind I wanted for  myself when I grew up. This has to be a mistake!

But from my mother's surprised expression, I knew there was no mistake.

"How did you know about the car?"

My father sneered. "That boy can't afford a BMW 5 Series on his pool  boy's ten-dollar-an-hour salary. Besides, I've seen the way you watch  him when you're laying out by the pool. I run a multibillion-dollar  company. I didn't get there in life by being an idiot."

My mother pursed her lips and shrugged.

"So did you love him?"

I turned quickly to look at my mom to see what she'd say.

"Him?"

"Yes, Damian's real father! The one you fucked twenty years ago while we were married!"

"No, I didn't." Her answer was short and she didn't elaborate. She  turned her back away from us and looked out the kitchen window into  early evening darkness.

I looked at the man standing before me. Behind the anger in his voice, I  could tell that he was devastated and beaten down. "You're not my  father?" I asked in a low voice.

He didn't look at me in the eye. Instead, he handed me a folded-up piece of paper. "The proof," he said solemnly.

My mother turned toward me. Her head perked up as her eyes stared at the paper in my hand.

I cautiously unfolded the paper. At the top of the paper was St. Joseph  Hospital's letterhead. This was a letter that appeared to summarize some  lab results. I looked from the paper to my father and then to at my  mother, who immediately looked away from me.

"What is this?" I asked my father.

"They're test results I had done." He sighed as he rubbed his temple  with his hands. "Remember a few months ago when we found out my father  had a genetic blood clotting disorder?"

"I remember. Genetic thrombophilia?"

"And remember how they took genetic samples from us to test us for this same disorder?"

"Yes."

"Well, the blood results came back, and according to the results"-he  looked at me with pain-filled eyes-"we're not related. You're not my  son."

I felt the wind knock out of me as I took in his words. "You're not my son." His words rang in my ears

"There must be a mistake." I shook my head, refusing to accept this as the truth.

"I'm sorry, son. That's what I thought too and called the hospital. The results are accurate."

I looked at my mother, hoping she could say something that'd prove that  the results were wrong. She remained silent as she looked down at her  feet and folded her arms.

"Mom? Who's my biological father?"

"I don't remember," she finally admitted under her breath.

"What do you mean?"

"There was more than one guy at the time," she mumbled.

"How many more?!" my father demanded, his nostrils flared as his chest rose and fell in angry breaths.

"I never kept count!" she shot back.

My mouth gaped open at my mother's admission that she'd slept with more men than she knew.

"Have you been screwing men during the entire time we've been married?" the man I'd thought was my father roared at her.

My mother didn't answer and looked away.

"I've had enough! I can't take this! I want a divorce!" I watched my  father explode in rage in front of me as he grabbed his wallet and keys  from the kitchen counter and headed toward the front door. When he got  to the door, he spun around and glared at my mother. "I've loved you,  provided for you, was faithful to you throughout our twenty-three years  of marriage. And now I find out-from a fucking blood test no less-that  you've been screwing countless other men for over twenty years and the  son I've loved for the last nineteen years isn't even mine!"

"Don't blame this on me! You were never home! A woman has her needs too!  There's only so much shopping and spending time at the country club a  person can take before they're bored out of their mind!"

"You disgust me that you can turn your infidelity and lies around and  make it my fault." My father shook his head as he grimaced and opened  the front door. "I don't ever want to see you again. You'll hear from my  lawyer!"                       
       
           



       

With that, I watched my father of nineteen years storm out.

I slumped back onto the couch in the living room, unable to take in  everything that had just happened. I felt the room whirl around me as I  realized that everything I'd thought I'd known about my parents and my  life had been an illusion built on a lie that had just shattered  everything in my life. This moment reminded me of something that had  happened when I was just five. I had been playing cops and robbers with  Annie, my nanny. I had been the robber and had been running from room to  room while Annie chased after me. I remembered laughing in sheer  delight as I ran as fast as my tiny feet would take me. While I was  running past the living room, I wasn't paying attention to where I was  going and accidentally knocked over a metal ornament from a side table.  The sharp end of the item hit against the floor-to-ceiling window that  ran along one side of the room, leaving a small crack. I rubbed my tiny  fingers against the glass to feel the crack, and suddenly, the tiny,  barely noticeable spider-vein-sized crack began to expand under the  pressure of my fingers. Annie rushed to my side and pulled me away just  in time as the entire wall of glass came crashing down and shattered  onto the hardwood floor.

And as I sat here on the couch in the same living room that the wall of  glass had shattered into a million pieces fourteen years ago, I realized  that my mom's infidelity was like that spider-vein-sized crack. No one  had known it'd existed but her, and for the last twenty years, we had  lived like a happy family. But then tonight, without any notice, that  spider vein grew and spread, and before I'd known what was happening,  everything I'd thought I'd known about my life had shattered into  pieces.

Only with this spider vein crack, Annie wouldn't be able to rush to my  side and protect me from getting hurt by the shattered pieces. The truth  had come crashing down on me. It had destroyed my life. It had  destroyed me.

***

Present Day

I stepped on the gas when I merged onto Interstate 80 and felt the power of the engine roar into life.

"Damn, they don't make engines like this anymore!" I said to myself. I  leaned my seat back as I enjoyed the vibration of the engine against me.  Buying a vintage car was the last thing I'd thought I'd ever do, but  when I saw a ‘For Sale' flyer for this 1967 Ford Mustang in the bar  yesterday, I'd felt like I had to have it. It was a spontaneous thing to  do, and I'd needed something to help me blow off some steam. I'd been  frustrated and on edge for the past two weeks and I'd needed a  distraction.

I rolled down my window and brushed my hair back as a gust of cold  morning wind hit against my face. I focused on keeping my mind clear.  I'd been trying to think about anything but her. I shifted in the  driver's seat and switched the radio to a classic rock station, blasting  the music up so loud I couldn't hear myself think.

But it was hopeless. It didn't help. There was one and only one thing on  my mind: Alexis. I groaned in frustration when my mind drifted back to  her.