Chapter 2 - The Test They Took Behind My Back
The message contained a photograph.
For a second, I couldn't understand what I was looking at.
A laboratory report.
Two names had been partially covered by Karen's thumb when she'd photographed the page, but the conclusion was visible.
Probability of paternity: 99.99%.
I stopped breathing.
Karen reached for the phone.
I stepped away.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“Whose test is this?”
Neither of them answered.
I looked at Daniel.
“Whose?”
His shoulders dropped.
“Mine.”
The room tilted.
I sat down because I had no choice.
There are moments people imagine they will handle differently.
I had imagined catching Karen cheating before.
Not because I expected it, but because everyone imagines terrible possibilities sometimes.
In those fantasies I was angry.
I shouted.
I threw someone out.
I demanded answers.
Reality was nothing like that.
Reality was quiet.
Reality was sitting on the edge of my own chair staring at a photograph on a phone while the life I recognized disappeared around me.
“When?”
Daniel answered.
“Six months ago.”
I looked up.
“You've known for six months?”
“Yes.”
Karen started talking quickly.
“I didn't want him to do it.”
I stared at her.
“You didn't want me to know.”
“That's not what I said.”
“Then explain the difference.”
She couldn't.
I examined the message again.
The contact name was “Melissa Work.”
“You saved him as Melissa?”
Karen closed her eyes.
That told me enough.
I opened the message thread.
She tried to stop me.
“Ethan, please.”
I moved away.
There were months of messages.
Not hundreds.
Thousands.
Some were ordinary.
Did he eat breakfast?
How was preschool?
Does he still hate peas?
Then others.
I miss you.
Last night was a mistake.
No, it wasn't.
When can I see you?
Ethan thinks I'm working late.
I stopped scrolling.
My hands shook.
Daniel stared at the floor.
“How many times have you been in my house?”
“Ethan,” Karen said.
I looked at him.
“How many?”
He swallowed.
“Several.”
“While Noah was here?”
Silence.
My body went cold.
“While my son was here?”
Karen spoke.
“He never did anything inappropriate around Noah.”
I laughed.
It came out ugly.
“You mean besides secretly visiting the child he knew was biologically his while the man raising him didn't know?”
Nobody answered.
I stood.
“Get out.”
Daniel nodded.
This time Karen didn't stop him.
He reached the doorway.
“Wait.”
He turned.
“Did Noah know you?”
Daniel hesitated.
Karen said, “Ethan.”
I ignored her.
“What did he call you?”
“Daniel.”
“How did you explain who you were?”
“A friend.”
A friend.
I remembered Noah mentioning “Mommy's friend Danny” once.
Karen had told me he was someone from work.
I had forgotten about it.
Until now.
“How often did you see him?”
Daniel looked miserable.
“Not often.”
“How often?”
“Maybe once every few weeks.”
“For six months?”
He nodded.
I wanted to hate him.
Part of me did.
But the longer I looked at him, the more obvious something became.
Daniel hadn't created the lie alone.
Karen had built it.
Maintained it.
Expanded it.
She had allowed two men to occupy different versions of the same family.
“Leave.”
Daniel opened the door.
Then he looked back at me.
“For what it's worth, I didn't know until recently.”
“Get out.”
He left.
The door closed.
Karen and I stood alone.
I thought that would make things easier.
It didn't.
She looked smaller without Daniel there.
For a moment I saw the woman I'd loved.
That was dangerous.
I hardened myself against it.
“Tell me everything.”
She sat.
I remained standing.
Karen wiped her face.
“Daniel and I dated before you.”
“I know.”
“We were terrible together.”
“Not relevant.”
“It is relevant.”
“Did you sleep with him after we became exclusive?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“I don't know.”
“You know.”
“Maybe eight or nine.”
I stared at her.
“During almost a year?”
Her eyes dropped.
“More.”
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“Twenty?”
She didn't answer.
“Fifty?”
“Ethan, what difference does the number make?”
That sentence ended something inside me.
“The difference is whether you're capable of telling the truth even now.”
She began crying again.
I didn't comfort her.
That felt unnatural.
For seven years, tears on Karen's face had triggered an immediate instinct in me.
Hold her.
Fix it.
Protect her.
Now I simply watched.
“I ended things with him,” she said. “I chose you.”
“You didn't choose me. You kept me while deciding.”
“I loved you.”
“You lied to me.”
“Both can be true.”
“Not in the way you want them to be.”
She looked away.
“When did you realize Noah might not be mine?”
“When I found out I was pregnant.”
My chest hurt.
“You knew from the beginning.”
“I knew there was a possibility.”
“Did you tell Daniel?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted our marriage.”
“Our marriage was eighteen months old.”
“I was terrified.”
“So you decided I didn't deserve a choice.”
She covered her face.
I walked into the kitchen.
Noah's cup was beside the sink.
I picked it up.
Green plastic.
Orange cartoon dinosaur.
His name written underneath because he'd started taking it to preschool.
NOAH HAYES.
My last name.
I sat at the kitchen table and held that stupid cup.
That was when I finally cried.
Not loudly.
I just sat there while tears dropped onto my hands.
Karen came into the kitchen.
She stopped several feet away.
“Ethan.”
I couldn't look at her.
“Don't.”
“He's still your son.”
“Don't use him to make this easier.”
“I'm not.”
“You lied about who his father was.”
“You are his father.”
“I don't know what I am right now.”
She started toward me.
I stood immediately.
“Don't touch me.”
She froze.
“I need you to leave.”
“This is my house too.”
“Then I'll leave.”
“Where will you go?”
“My brother's.”
“What about Noah?”
That question nearly destroyed me.
“What about him?”
“He'll wonder where you are.”
“He's at Mom's tonight.”
“And tomorrow?”
I had no answer.
Because tomorrow morning, Noah would wake up and ask for pancakes.
He would probably ask when Daddy was coming.
And none of this was his fault.
Not one second of it.
I grabbed an overnight bag and went upstairs.
Karen followed me.
“Please don't make decisions tonight.”
I opened a drawer.
“You made decisions for both of us for four years.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
I packed shirts.
Jeans.
Toothbrush.
Laptop.
My hands moved mechanically.
Karen stood in the doorway.
“I don't want to lose you.”
I stopped.
That almost made me angry again.
“You brought the biological father of our child into our home while I was gone.”
“It wasn't supposed to happen like this.”
“How was it supposed to happen?”
She said nothing.
That answer mattered.
I turned.
“What was supposed to happen tonight?”
“Nothing.”
“You dressed like that for nothing?”
Her face changed.
Tiny.
Almost imperceptible.
But I saw it.
“You were going somewhere.”
“No.”
“You were.”
“Ethan—”
“With him?”
She didn't answer.
I zipped the bag.
Then I remembered the cheesecake in my truck.
For some reason, that detail hurt.
I walked downstairs, put on my boots, and opened the front door.
Karen followed.
“Please call me tomorrow.”
“I'll call you about Noah.”
“And us?”
I looked at her.
“There is no us tonight.”
I drove to my brother Ryan's apartment.
I didn't tell him everything.
I couldn't.
I said Karen and I had a serious fight.
He looked at my overnight bag and didn't ask questions.
At 2:13 a.m., I was still awake on his couch.
At 2:47, my phone buzzed.
Karen.
I ignored it.
Again.
Again.
Then a voicemail.
I listened.
“Ethan, please call me. Something happened.”
I sat up.
Another message arrived.
Not from Karen.
From Daniel.
We need to talk without her there.
I stared at it.
Then another.
You don't know everything about the DNA test.
My fingers went cold.
I typed:
What don't I know?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then Daniel sent a photograph.
It wasn't the paternity report.
May you like
It was a screenshot of an email from the laboratory.
And the date on it was almost four years earlier.
