CHAPTER 27

Concerned that Jay bore no resemblance to either of his other children, Don had decided that DNA testing would be the only way to get a definite answer to the questions plaguing him.

He had gone online to obtain the necessary DNA kit. It contained the materials for the cheek swabbing, instructions and addresses for nearby laboratories that could process the samples and report the findings. The kit also included instructions on how to package the material to be tested. The lab’s report would be mailed back to him in a plain brown envelope with no return address to protect the inquirer’s privacy.

One night after dinner Alisha said she needed to go to the drugstore.

“I have a few things I need to pick up, some for me and some for the baby,” she told Don. “Won’t be gone long.”

“Take your time, we’ll be fine,” he assured her.

As soon as he was sure she had gone, he picked the baby up from the playpen and carried him into the master bedroom. Holding the child in one arm, he laid out the contents of the kit. He had already swabbed his own cheek before leaving his office.

He talked to the gurgling, happy baby when he sat down beside him on the bed. “You’re a dear, sweet little boy, but I’m not sure you’re mine.”

Chucking Jay under his chin, he swabbed his inner cheek and placed the sample in the container that had been provided.

He sealed the kit as instructed and placed it in his medical bag.

For the next three weeks, he fretted endlessly, barely able to act normal around Alisha and the baby.

In response to her query, “What’s wrong with you, Don? You seem so worried, so jumpy, is everything all right at the clinic?”

“It’s my patient load,” he told her. “Increasing to the point that it seems that each patient session is taking more and more time. Backup is almost too much to handle. I’m really bushed at the end of the day, especially when I have to check on my hospitalized patients.”

“I understand,” she said.

He said nothing, but his anxiety increased as he waited for the DNA results. He began to worry, too, if there could be some kind of genetic mutation causing the distinctly Asian features the baby might have inherited.

* * *

When Alisha returned from shopping, she told Don about Jay’s visit to the pediatrician.

“Dr. Blume says that Jay is right on target.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

“Said our son is very healthy, growing nicely, and that we can start him on baby food with the bottle, as needed.”

“That’s great!”

“I think so, too, because, well, Don, I’d like to go back to finish my degree program.”

“Why? Why, Leanne never…”

He caught himself mid-sentence, but not before Alisha knew exactly what he was going to say.

He did not miss the sarcasm in her voice. “Of course, the wonderful Leanne never left her children!”

“She never had to. Nor do you!”

“I want my own career, thank you very much!”

Noting the look of defiance in her voice and on her face, Don thought of how their lives had changed. What was wrong with the woman? He thought she had what she wanted; marriage to him, a child, a home of her own. He had not acknowledged a certain truth that he’d recognized some time ago. And that was Alisha’s diminished interest in any sexual activity. Her overactive sexual appetite had not returned. After her postpartum recovery, she seemed much less interested in any sexual activity, proclaiming that it was too soon. The physician in Don thought, this is strange behavior. Although he was not an obstetrician, he knew that most healthy women were eager to resume normal sexual activity. And, certainly, early on his wife had shown him a vigorous sexual appetite.

This rejecting of intimacy, combined with her latest announcement of “returning to educational pursuits,” made him wonder what next new change would she bring into their lives.

He did not voice his misgivings but instead began to question her about her going back to school. He sighed deeply. “How do you propose to manage care for Jay?” he asked.

She laughed. “You mean you’ve forgotten that your own medical facility has a child care center right on the first floor?”

“Guess so. Never had to use it, so it never concerned me.”

“Several female doctors on staff use the facility, as well as do some nurses. And I do know that the child care center does take infants, as well as toddlers.”

Don pushed back from the table and went into the living room. She followed him. “I’d rather you stay at home with him. At least until he’s walking.”

“I should think you’d be pleased, Don,” she countered. “He’ll be right down on the first floor…you could check on him anytime you want.”

“Could be,” he grudgingly agreed. “It would be good for one of us to be close by.”

“Right, that’s what I thought, too.”

“What’s this day care going to cost?”

“It’s $800 a month. A five-day week with expanded hours from seven in the morning until six in the evening. We have to sign a contract stipulating a week’s notice should we want to terminate the contract.”

“I see. So when do we sign this contract?” he asked her, suddenly weary of the discussion. “And when do we start Jay’s day care?” He was not at all happy with his wife’s arbitrary decision, but decided he would wait until he knew the DNA test results before he made any decisions.

* * *

Using the Internet, he had located an agency that would provide a Y chromosome analysis to prove whether or not the male Y chromosome had been handed down from father to son.

Nearly a month of agonizing tension passed before the brown envelope with no return address arrived in his office mail. It was hidden in a pile of junk mail.

He tried to control himself, but nervous perspiration flooded down his face, almost blinding his eyesight. His hands were trembling and clammy as he extracted the envelope, came upon the information that could change his life once again.

He stuffed the unsorted pile of mail into his desk drawer. He then locked the door to his office and took the envelope into his bathroom. He closed the toilet seat lid and placed the envelope on it. Turning on the cold water, he splashed water over his face several times until he felt relieved. After patting his face and hands dry, he picked up the envelope. Sitting down on the closed toilet seat, he opened it.

Scanning quickly through the one-page letter, his eyes widened, his attention riveted to the summary at the bottom of the page.

DNA test results of tissue samples Number 41818 and 41819 show there is no match in their Y chromosomes, therefore no paternal link.

The report was signed by a Robert Goodman, M.D. Don leaned back against the cool toilet tank. Goodman, how appropriate. You really are my good man!

He took a deep breath. Glancing at his watch, he knew he had four or five scheduled patients to see. But he decided that with this development in his life, he needed legal advice.

He went into his office and secured his letter in his briefcase, unlocked his office door and put in a call to Frank Jones, his lawyer and long-time friend.