Drake sat there for a moment, his mouth open. "So you were sleeping with Chris before we split..."
"Drake, I could have been sleeping with an entire college football team for all you'd have known. You were so busy in Africa and with lectures and surgery and your band to even notice that I was having an affair."
"And how do you know he's my son? I should be tested—"
"Drake," she said, her voice sounding frustrated. "It was either you or Chris. I wasn't seeing anyone else. Yes, you should be tested, but given it's the same leukemia as your brother, I assumed he's yours."
"Of course…" Drake stammered. "They'll find out when they test me for compatibility." Drake said nothing for a moment, holding his cup between his palms. He didn't meet Maureen's eyes, focusing instead on the table and his cup. "So you were fucking us both, obviously."
"I didn’t mean to. You were pretty insistent when you were around. I tried to talk to you but you were always shushing me, trying to get me into bed. I finally gave up."
I stood up at that, embarrassed to be listening in to their private conversation. Drake grabbed my hand.
"Stay," he said. I sat back down, my face red. Drake sighed heavily. "Tell me about my son."
"Liam," she said. Drake glanced up at that. Maureen gave a half-smile, somewhat guilty-looking. "I always liked your father and that name, so I called him that when I found out he was a boy."
"Jesus Christ," Drake said, rubbing his eyes. "You never suspected that he was my son?"
"You and Chris look quite a lot alike. Dark hair, fair skin. He has hazel eyes, and yours are blue, but still. Liam could have been either of yours. I assumed," she said, her voice low. "I wanted to believe he was Chris's son. It wasn't until we needed a donor that I found out the truth."
"How long ago was this?"
"He's had leukemia for a year, but it wasn't until he didn't respond to chemo and had a relapse that we decided on stem cell transplantation. We tested everyone in the family and that's when we discovered Chris wasn't his father. As soon as I found out, I made an appointment with Krishnamurtha here at NYP Children's. I decided to come here, where I knew some of the nurses. NYP has one of the best pediatric oncology centers in the world. And of course, there's you. You're the same blood type. I thought you might be an HLA match."
"What's his diagnosis?"
"AML. M5. He has a rare 10:11 mutation and needs aggressive treatment. I should have known he was yours when I heard it, but I wasn't thinking about you."
"Christ," Drake said, rubbing his forehead. "How's he doing?"
"He's holding his own, but he needs a transplant. If you're a match, he'll be prepped for consolidation therapy. High dose chemo and radiation, then bone marrow or stem cell transplant. We looked for a donor but came up empty. If you're a match, will you agree to donate your marrow?"
Drake didn’t hesitate. "Of course. Anything."
"I know you're going to Africa, but I need you to do this."
"The semester doesn’t start until March so I have some time. I was going to help with their surgical slate for a while, help with backlogged cases, but that can wait."
Maureen covered her face with her hands and for the first time, she cracked, her perfect blonde exterior crumbling. She actually cried in front of us, her sobs silent, her shoulders shaking.
Drake looked very uncomfortable, but finally, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Maureen seemed to snap out of it and reached into her bag. She fished through its contents and removed a tissue, wiping her eyes as she struggled to gain control over herself.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Drake shrugged. "How could I say no? He's my son."
"I knew you didn't want kids, Drake. That's why I never tried to find out if he was yours or Chris's. I knew you probably wouldn't want him anyway, but Chris did want him. He wanted a family."
Drake nodded. "I never wanted to have kids because of the chance of passing on the gene. I never imagined being a father."
"You are, but Chris is his real father, Drake. A father isn't just a sperm donor. A father is the man who reads you stories at night, who plays soccer with you in the summer and who takes you fishing. A father is the one who sits by your bed when you're sick."
Drake shook his head. "I guess I never had a father, then."
She glared at Drake, an exasperated expression on her face. "Look, Drake. If you do this, I don’t want you trying to become involved in Liam's life. Leave things as they are," she said, her voice edged with warning. "It was hard enough telling Chris that Liam wasn't his. Liam doesn't have to know. It would break his heart to find out that Chris wasn’t his biological father. Maybe some day when he's grown and able to handle it, but now? I don't want him to know."