PART 2: THE TRUTH BEHIND THE FARCE

We met at Eric’s office.

A wooden box was between us.

“Nathan was your biological father,” Eric said.

For several seconds, the words made no sense.

Then he placed a file in front of me. Inside was a paternity recognition signed prior to my birth, letters that my mother had returned unopened and evidence of a genealogical coincidence.

Years earlier, I had delivered a DNA sample while searching for relatives from my mother.

Nathan used it to find me.

He found out where he volunteered and deliberately chose that palliative care facility.

“Did you organize everything?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you know?”

“Yes.”

“Over the six weeks?”

“Yes.”

I got up so fast that my chair hit the wall.

Nathan knew exactly who I was when he asked me to pretend to be his daughter. Eric knew that too. I had been taken away from the right to decide if I wanted to have a relationship with the man who abandoned my mother.

Eric admitted that Nathan was afraid I would refuse to see him if he knew the truth.

“It was my decision,” I said.

Eric looked down. “I told myself that I was dying. I thought six weeks of comfort would hurt less than the truth.”

“You decided that his comfort mattered more than my consent.”

“Yes,” he said. I was wrong.

Inside the wooden box were two bundles of cards: one addressed to me and one to Eric. Below, there were documents that left us in co-ownership of the Millie’s Diner restaurant.

“Who are you for Nathan?” I asked.

Eric’s jaw strained.

“His son.”

Nathan married years after leaving my mother. Eric grew up at Nathan’s, but their relationship was never affectionate.

“He paid the bills and attended school meetings,” Eric said. “But he never asked me how I felt unless the response affected my grades.”

“And yet you protected him.”

Eric looked away. “When he told me about you, I thought he finally trusted me as a son. Then you came with the coffee, and he became the father I had wished for my whole life.

“You held a grudge against me.”

“Yes.”

I read Nathan’s letter that night.

He admitted that he had failed both of us in different ways. I had completely abandoned myself, while raising Eric without affection.

He had arranged our meeting because he wanted to find out if I could feel anything for him before he knew what he had done.

That finding made me feel bad.

When Nathan asked if he had been convincing, I told him I hadn’t been pretending to be my father.

I had been pretending it wasn’t.

His regret had become a demand more. I wanted my forgiveness without giving myself the opportunity to question it, reject it or tell him how his absence had marked my life.

Nathan’s last hope was for Eric and I to give each other the family he had denied us.

I called Eric the next morning.

“We’re not required to become a family because Nathan wanted a clean finish.”

“I agree.”

“And I don’t forgive you.”

“I understand.”

During the following month, we communicate only through different lawyers.

The Millie’s Diner restaurant could not be sold without both firms. The building was valuable, but the business was going through difficulties. Eric wanted to sell the property, pay off the debts and spread out what was left.

At first, I agreed.

Then we went to the restaurant.

The rest you will find on the next page.