Chương 7
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” the technician said.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve done it about a thousand times.”
“That means you could be bad at it a thousand times.”
The technician smiled.
“That is technically possible.”
Nathan looked at Rachel.
Rachel covered a laugh with a cough.
The swab took less than a minute.
Sophie looked disappointed.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Nathan’s swab took less time.
He had expected something dramatic.
Blood.
Machines.
A moment of irreversible physical certainty.
Instead a woman in blue scrubs rubbed cotton inside his cheek and sealed it into an envelope.
Outside the clinic, Sophie asked whether they could get ice cream.
Rachel said it was February.
Sophie said ice cream still existed in February.
Nathan said this was difficult to argue with.
They went for ice cream.
Three days passed.
Nathan returned to work.
He ran a commercial architecture firm with two partners and thirty-six employees.
On Monday morning, he spent forty minutes discussing a parking structure in Aurora.
At ten fifteen, he reviewed revisions to a hotel lobby.
At eleven thirty, one of his junior architects asked if he preferred limestone or porcelain tile for a wall near an elevator.
Nathan stared at both samples.
“I don’t care.”
The architect blinked.
Nathan almost laughed.
For ten years, Nathan had cared about surfaces other people walked past without seeing.
Today both materials looked exactly like objects on a table.
“Sorry,” he said. “Porcelain. Maintenance.”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
At lunch, his partner Daniel closed Nathan’s office door.
“You good?”
“No.”
Daniel waited.
Nathan had told only his two partners that the engagement was “on hold.”
He had not told them why.
Daniel sat down.
“My contribution is that I’m available if you want to talk and equally available if you want me to leave.”
Nathan looked at him.
“That’s unusually emotionally competent.”
“My wife trained me.”
Nathan smiled.
Then his phone buzzed.
His entire body reacted.
It was a calendar reminder.
Dental cleaning next Thursday.
Nathan put the phone down.
Daniel pretended not to notice.
That evening Sophie called.
Nathan answered on the first ring.
“Hi.”
“Mom says you’re at work.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You said that yesterday.”
Nathan looked around his office.
She was right.
“I’m actually leaving.”
“How can I know?”
“You can’t.”
Sophie considered.
“Can I FaceTime?”
Nathan accepted the video call.
Her face appeared too close to the camera.
“Show me your shoes.”
“What?”
“If you’re leaving, you have shoes on.”
“I wear shoes at work.”
“Show me the door.”
Nathan walked toward the door.
Sophie nodded approvingly.
“Okay.”
“What is this about?”
“I have a science thing.”
Nathan stopped.
“What science thing?”
“We have to make a family traits chart.”
He closed his eyes.
Of course they did.
“What kind?”
“Hair. Eyes. Dimples. Stuff.”
Rachel’s voice came from somewhere off camera.
“Sophie, we talked about this.”
“I know.”
Nathan leaned against the wall.
“What do you need?”
“I don’t know whose side I put you on.”
He looked down.
There were no clean answers available to adults.
There were even fewer for second-grade homework.
“Could you tell your teacher your family is figuring something out?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why?”
“Because then she’ll ask.”
Nathan understood.
He looked at Sophie’s face on the screen.
“Put the traits you know.”
“What if they’re wrong?”
“Then your chart changes later.”
She frowned.
“That’s bad science.”
Nathan laughed.
“Actually, changing when you get better information is excellent science.”
Sophie thought about it.
“That sounds like something a teacher says.”
“It probably is.”
“Fine.”
She disappeared from the screen.
Rachel picked up the phone.
For a second, they simply looked at each other.
“She okay?” Nathan asked.
“Mostly.”
“Are you?”
Rachel gave him a flat look.
“Fantastic.”
“Right.”
She leaned against the kitchen counter.
“Mark’s parents called.”
Nathan straightened.
“What do they know?”
“I told them.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me first?”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Nathan stopped.
He heard himself.
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“It’s not. I keep doing that.”
Rachel looked tired.
“They needed to know before the test comes back.”
“How did they take it?”
“Badly.”
Nathan sat on the edge of his desk.
“What does badly mean?”
“Carol cried. Tom accused me of trying to replace Mark.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“You’re not.”
“I know.”
“Do they think I am?”
“They’re scared.”
“That doesn’t give them the right—”
“Nathan.”
He stopped.
Rachel looked directly into the phone.
“They lost their son.”
Nathan rubbed his forehead.
“I know.”
“They have spent seven years believing Sophie is the last piece of him they still get to hold.”
“She still is.”
“Biologically, maybe not.”
“She is still their granddaughter.”
“You know that. I know that. Fear does not always respect definitions.”
Nathan was quiet.
Rachel softened.
“Tom asked if you’re going to take me to court.”
“What?”
“He asked if your family would try to get custody.”
Nathan stood.
“That’s insane.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“You booked a legal paternity test without asking me.”
Nathan said nothing.
Rachel’s voice stayed calm.
“You’re rich. Your father is rich. They aren’t.”
“I’m not taking Sophie away from you.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Rachel paused.
“I believe you.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
Nathan walked toward the window.
Denver traffic moved below his office.
“I don’t want custody.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow.
Nathan corrected himself.
“I mean—I don’t want to take her. Obviously if I’m her father, I want to be part of her life.”
“I know.”
“I have no idea what that looks like.”
“Neither do I.”
Nathan stared at the reflection of office lights.
The answer from the clinic came the next morning at 9:42.
Nathan saw the email subject while standing in line for coffee.
PATERNITY TEST RESULTS AVAILABLE.
He stepped out of line.
A man behind him said, “Seriously?”
Nathan did not hear.
He sat at a table near the window.
His hands were cold.
The clinic portal required a password.
May you like
He entered it incorrectly twice.
On the third attempt, the document opened.
