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The free space in my pants shrinks, and I scrub a hand down my face. If he is my brother, this bodily reaction to him is pretty fucked up. Even so, I find myself hoping and wishing that it won’t be true. Could we move past this kind of road bump and explore what’s between us? I don’t know. Seems unlikely.
I laugh wryly as I imagine ten years from now, together after finding out we weren’t related. Our “how we met” story would be loaded with bullying, revenge, and a DNA test. Leaning back against the bench, I let my head fall backward and groan. I might as well let go of any hope for that.
We’re doomed. We always have been.
* * *
The second I hear the mail truck parking in front of The Garage, I dash to the office the same way I have every day for more than a week. The lab person said it could take up to a month to get results, but I will have no chill until I see that envelope.
Impatiently, I tap my toe as the older mailman walks into the office and shoots the shit with Tigger.
“I’ll take that,” I say, unable to sit through any more small talk.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” He hands it over, and I sit on the sofa to flip through it. Most of it is bills and parts magazines, but at the bottom of the stack, I see an envelope with my name on it from the lab.
Setting the rest of it on the desk near Tigger, I take the letter and head to my cabin, shouting to Cy that I’m taking a break. For such a thin piece of mail, it feels heavy in my hand. Decidedly, it’s the emotional weight I’m feeling, not the physical.
Plopping down in my recliner, I set the envelope on my thigh and stare at it. A million thoughts have gone through my head since leaving the lab. Most being there’s no way Jenson is my brother. It’s suspicious that his dad paid for my schooling, but if he thought I was his kid, I can’t imagine it wouldn’t have gotten out before now. Or maybe it would’ve. I don’t fucking know; I’m not some rich asshole with a lot to lose.
But if I were his kid, would his dad want to know me? With his disease, is it too late? I never had a dad. Mom always said she never even knew his name, that the condom must’ve broken. With no way to contact him when she found out she was knocked up, she let it go.
I don’t allow those thoughts to settle in my head for very long. Because my adolescent desire for a dad is being overridden by a desire to get to know Jenson. And not in a brotherly way. This draw I feel toward him could be explained by some familial, biological connection, but I don’t think so. It’s more than that. Bigger. And I want it.
I take my phone out of my pocket and bring up Jenson’s contact info I swiped from his work order. Did he get a letter today too? Is he staring at it, building up the courage to open it, like me?
Only one way to find out. I press the “call” button and put it on speaker. It rings once, twice, three times, then four. I’m considering disconnecting when he picks up.
“This is Jenson.” His voice is low and gravelly.
“Just wake up?”
He clears his throat. “No. I, uh, just got a letter from the lab, and I’m hiding in the bathroom in my office while debating whether to open it.”
I chuckle. “I’m hiding in my cabin, doing the same.”
We haven’t spoken since we left the lab. Jenson made it clear he didn’t want to hear from me until we knew one way or the other. I don’t know what he’s hoping for.
“Should we open it together?”
“Sure.”
“Count of three. One, two, three.”
A chorus of ripping paper sounds through the room from my phone’s speaker and my own hands. I pull out the letter and try to read it, but my anxiety is too high for the words to make sense. I take a deep breath and try again.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t a chart. The first column has a bunch of letters and numbers I don’t understand. The second one has my name, and the third has Jenson’s. I scroll down each of our columns, but again, it’s just meaningless data.
Then I get to the bottom, where it says, “Interpretation.” The probability of us being brothers is less than half a percent. I blow out a breath, not sure what I’m feeling.
Was I hoping I could continue to fuck Jenson or that I had a family out there, even if I have sucked off my potential brother?
I couldn’t tell you.
“You there?” Jenson asks, and I startle, forgetting he was on the line.
“Yeah. You see the results?”
“Yeah.” His tone is just as muted as when he answered, so I can’t tell his reaction any more than my own.
