I pulled up in the driveway, grabbed the file folder, and marched toward the door. As I reached out, my hand started trembling. I was angry, but also scared. The next several moments could change everything. I took a few deep breaths to try and calm myself. Just as I reached out a second time, the door opened.
“What are you doing out here?” Dad glanced around like he was looking for someone else to be with me.
“I went to the library.” I forced the words out. Confusion spread over his face as I attempted to step around him.
Mom was cooking breakfast when I came into the kitchen. Seeing her smile at me brought all the anger back. “Want some breakfast?” She glanced over at where I was standing by the island, and then went back to the stove.
“I’m not really hungry.” The words came out clipped.
“Ok.” She shrugged.
I took a few more deep breaths, willed myself not to cry, and slapped the folder on the island. “Does Dad know?” My lips trembled.
“Know what?” Mom put down the spatula and turned to face me. Her eyes went from my face to the folder and widened. That’s right Mom, your secret’s out.
“That I’m not his,” I snapped. It was in the moment that Dad came around the corner. His eyes went between Mom and me. “Did you?” I was almost screaming at this point.
“Did I what?” He moved closer to me, and I stepped back.
“Who’s Alexander Bishop?” My eyes went back to the folder on the island.
“Riley, let’s talk about this.” Mom’s voice was calm, too calm.
“Why didn’t we talk about it years ago? Were you in on this too?” I turned my wrath on Dad.
“Calm down, pumpkin.” Dad held his hands up in surrender.
“No. Does my real dad know who I am?” The tears came no matter how much I tried to stop them; they came pouring out. “Has he tried to come see me?”
“Riley.” Mom turned the stove off and stepped around the island to where I was standing. “This is your dad.” She pointed in Dad’s direction. “He’s loved you since before you were born. He’s the only dad you need to be concerned about. He’s raised you, given you his name, loved you, and supported you. Biology doesn’t make a dad, unconditional love does.”
“That’s not what I asked.” The anger flared again. “Am I the only one who didn’t know?”
“Rils.” Mom stepped closer, but I kept the distance firmly between us. “This wasn’t to hurt you.”
“Then what was it?” The tears came, full force, cascading down my cheeks.
“Alex was a guy I dated after college. He cheated on me. I never told him about you. When I came back here, your dad and I fell in love. He promised to love you, and be your dad, and he’s done that every day since.” I could tell by her expression that something was off. Was she afraid? Was it fear I was sensing?
My eyes swung between my parents. Dad looked lost, and Mom looked hurt. How dare they hide this from me. I had a right to know as soon as I was old enough. “I can’t talk to you right now.” I stepped around Mom and rushed up to my room, slamming the door behind me.
I could hear footsteps shortly after, and then a knock. “Riley?” Dad’s voice was soft.
“Go away,” I begged. I did not want to do this. I still didn’t know how much of this he was a part of. I couldn’t believe that the man I’d seen as my father would hide something like this from me. It felt wrong, and not like him at all.
“I’ll leave you alone, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.” His voice was muffled through the door, and then I heard his soft footsteps as he walked away.
ooooooooo
I spent most of the day in my room. Mom tried to talk just like Dad did, but I refused to let her in. I called Claire, but got her voicemail. Around lunchtime, I snuck downstairs and grabbed some food. It was then that I decided on a plan. It was much better in my head, but I wasn’t really thinking straight at the moment. Too many thoughts were telling me that there was more to this story. Did this Alex guy really not know about me? What if he did, and Mom just kept me away? What if the reason we moved out here wasn’t for Dad’s training, but to hide me? Why wouldn’t Mom want me to know about him, and why was she acting like it wasn’t a big deal? Why wasn’t Dad more upset? The questions just kept coming, and I didn’t know how to stop them.
I grabbed my laptop, and started a rudimentary search. I typed in Alexander Bishop first. A bunch of guys popped up. I went back and narrowed my search to Alexander Bishops between the ages of 40 and 50. This cut my results in half, but I still didn’t know exactly what I was looking for. I knew Mom went to Boston College just like Dad, but I also knew that she moved away. Mom lived in San Diego before she moved back home. With a few more searches, I found the man who I think is my father. There’s an Alexander Bishop living in San Diego that’s 46 years old. There’s no picture, but I bet there’s something about him that looks like me. I look a lot like my mom, but nothing like my dad. I know why now. I’m not his. A single tear rolled down my cheek when that thought entered my head. I’m not his. How many times has he lied to
