And the kid who had my eyes and dimples. For me, such specifics were like a lifeline. In my head, however, I would hear my mother’s voice telling me that I was stupid for not seeing the situation.
Finally, someone called. I could hardly hear the doctor because of the deafening scream of blood in my ears. But then, over the background noise, came the words,
“The test confirms that you are the biological father.” I had a surge of relief at first, followed by a piercing shame that made my breath catch.
How could I ever question her? How could I have let those skepticisms begin to grow inside of me? But the doctor wasn’t finished.
She explained how a youngster may display traits that have been handed down through the generations and the concept of recessive genes.
Although it made sense from a scientific standpoint, my guilt for not trusting Stephanie persisted. The fact that the truth was now clear didn’t make me feel any less stupid.
