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Three is a crowd: David regains control of the network

David and Diane have been married for years; then there is Julie, the young secretary whose axis collides with the couple’s in ways none of them saw coming.

JULIE

I had only been back at the apartment for less than an hour when there was a knock at the door.

Assuming it was Kenneth back to apologize, I sighed, and picking up Junior off the floor, went to let him in. The sight of David standing there with a bouquet of roses so big it covered half his face, threw me for a loop, and for a few seconds I just stared at him in shock, until he broke the silence by asking if he could come in.

“What is all this? What’s going on?” I asked in confusion, not wanting him to come in.
“I just came from the clinic where they did the test, and the samples were a match; Junior is my son!” he declared proudly, a broad smile on his face.

“You already knew that!” I answered, my tone bored, totally unmoved by his theatrics.

“I know, but I just needed to make extra sure; aren’t you pleased it’s now official?”
“I know who my child’s father is; I’ve known from the minute I found out I was pregnant; I didn’t need test results to make it ‘official’,” I answered icily.

“You’re a woman, of course you know, it’s not the same thing,” he argued, then went on, his tone more conciliatory, “Look, I understand you’re angry, and truth be told, you have every reason to be. But we’ve got to look forward, not back; what is it they say about ‘the end justifies the means’? I now know without a doubt that he is mine; how I arrived at that conclusion is beside the point. All that matters now is what I do with that knowledge – what we do!” he argued passionately.

My head told me he was right, that I should forgive him for the past, and look forward to the future; but my heart hurt, my soul was heavy, and I did not think I was ready to forgive just yet.

DAVID

I did not expect Julie to forgive and take me back with open arms; so, I was not surprised by her cold, almost hostile attitude when I got to the apartment.

On the contrary, because I had expected it, I had prepared for it throughout the drive over and was a man on a single mission – to re-establish my position in my son’s life; and I knew that in order to do that, I would first have to re-establish my position in Julie’s.   

The difficulty with that was that Julie was an emotional, sentimental sort of woman, and I had never been any good at long sentimental apologies. With a wife as calculating and financially driven as Diane, I had never needed to be; all I needed to do was write a cheque and the problem was solved.

Rather than embarrass myself by trying to be heartfelt, I stuck with what I knew, and went with the practical, clear headed, rational approach: “Now that I know for sure he is my son, all that matters to me is that I have a relationship with him and that he enjoys the same benefits my other children do. You’ve known from the start that I’m not the kind of man who walks away from his responsibilities. I’m not going to be one of those absent, dead-beat fathers; that’s just not me!”

I could tell from the way her gaze dropped to the ground, and her shoulders slumped like the fight had gone out of her, that in spite of herself, I had succeeded in striking a chord.

“You really hurt me, David.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but like I said, let’s forget about the past and focus on the future.”
“What about your wife?”

“What about her?”
“You think she’s going to be okay with you being a part of Junior’s life and giving him what she no doubt believes belongs to her children?”

“Don’t worry about that; nothing and no-one can stop me from doing right by my son – you have my word on that,” I promised earnestly, but though I did mean it, I had the feeling it was going to be easier said than done.

DIANE

David did not get back until close to ten that night, and when he did, despite the late hour, he walked in with a confident, unapologetic gait.

“Hi,” he greeted me casually, like it was six in the evening, rather than almost ten at night.
“Do you know what time it is? Where have you been?” I demanded coldly, struggling hard to keep my building rage under control.

For a few seconds, he did not respond, and I was afraid he was going to ignore me, but then he sighed, and rather than continue towards the stairs, he came into the living room where I sat glaring at him.

“I was at the apartment; I got the DNA test results – Junior is mine,” he announced quietly.
“You named your mistress’s son Junior! Interesting; you never suggested naming Daniel that; I thought it was a name reserved for the first son,” I retorted icily.

“Diane, please; it’s just a name!”
“Names say a lot; ‘Junior’ says it all!” I shot back, then took a deep calming breath before going on sarcastically, “So, did you and that whore kiss and make up?”

“My only concern is the boy; he’s my son and I am going to be there for him, just the same way I’m there for Daniel and the girls.”
“The same way! Are you now equating him to them?!”
“He’s my son, Diane.”

“No! He’s your bastard, David; there’s a big difference!”
“Not to me; there isn’t,” he answered quietly.

His words hit me like a tonne of bricks in the chest, and before I could recover enough to even think of formulating a reply, he turned and walked away.

I watched him leave in stunned horror, torn between screaming and crying. In the end, I buried my face in my hands and did both.  

margaretwamanga@yahoo.com

Source: The Observer

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