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“Is that it?” I ask and nod toward the envelope.
“Yeah, Amelia gave it to me. You have to be the one to open it,” she says, her eyes dry and firm, but full of concern as she watches me closely.
“I’m okay,” I say, and I find that I am. My future is set, because Confidence and I are set. This is just a hurdle I’ve got to clear on my road to where we’re going together.
“You want coffee?” she asks and pads on her bare feet across the travertine tiled floors into the kitchen. “Were you at work?” I ask, noticing her skirt and blouse for the first time. “Yeah, this morning, but then I went to the doctor and then came here.”
I pick up the envelope, rip it open, and pull the paper out.
“Hayes, don’t you want to sit down?” Confidence sounds alarmed. I hear her hurried footfalls as she rushes back to the table, but I just stare at the paper and gather my resolve.
“No, let’s not make an event of it. I just want to know.” I unfold and read what it says out loud. “With regard to the DNA of Hayes Rivers, when compared to the DNA sample obtained from Jason Rivers, twelve of the fifteen DNA markers were a match. This indicated sanguinity but does not indicate paternity. The matching markers follow the patterns we see between nephews and uncles and grandsons and grandfathers.” I finish and look up at Confidence. Her face is pale, and her hand is squeezing her lips together.
“How is that possible? He couldn’t have been my grandfather. He didn’t have any children besides me. So, if he’s my uncle …. then what does that mean? Uncle Thomas is my father? How?” I ask. Her eyes widen and take up almost the entire first half of her face. She’s shaking her head back and forth and her eyes start to fill with tears.
I stand up and walk over to her and yank her hand down. “What does it mean? Say it,” I demand, irrational in my fear and anger. I’m demanding she answer a question she couldn’t possibly. And yet, because she’s so much braver than me, she does.
“Gigi,” she croaks like it hurts for the words to pass her lips.
“No.” I shake my head.
“Who else? Does your father have other siblings?” I ask.
“I don’t fucking know. I didn’t even know Gigi existed until I was fourteen. Anything is possible.” As it starts to sink in, other realities rear their heads. I start to pace. If he wasn’t my father, then his dead wife wasn’t my mother, either. I don’t know the name for what I’m feeling. I’ve grieved for people I don’t know. Who aren’t my parents.
“So, I’m a Rivers, but not my father’s son. Who are my parents?” I ask.
“I don’t … I don’t know,” she says and I want to shake her.
Or shake this house.
Or shake the world.
I want everyone to feel what I’m feeling. The ground beneath my feet has shifted in a way that’s permanent. I will never be the same.
“Confidence. Who am I? Who is my family? What is my family?” I shout these questions at her. The horror on her face is too much for me. I turn away from her. I’m talking to the wrong person, anyway.
I pick up the receiver of my landline and hit the second preprogrammed button and press the phone to my ear.
“Prego?” Gigi’s voice is husky with sleep and I look down at the alarm clock by my bed and realize it must be one or two the morning in Positano. I haven’t called her during any of this. I didn’t want to worry her, and now I realize she’s the only person who can answer my questions.
“Gigi, I took a paternity test,” I say.
“Who’s pregnant?” she asks.
“To determine my paternity,” I clarify. I’m met with silence. I look up at Confidence who still looks like she’s seen a ghost.
You okay? I mouth and walk to the fridge to get her a bottle of water.
She’s carrying my fucking kid.
I crack it open and put it down in front of her and realize that Gigi hasn’t made sound.
My heart sinks.
“You knew,” I say and Confidence’s hand pauses in midair on its way to put her water to her lips.
“Hayes, I—”
