Chapter 23 #2
Jordan opens her bag and pulls out a large envelope. It looks like any other plain, white envelope that many businesses use. But I know it’s so much more. She hands it over, and I stare at it for a moment.
“You know, that file will not magically open itself if you stare at it long enough,” Spade quips.
“Fuck, guys, I’m so nervous. What if I don’t like what I see?”
“What if you do?” Soph reasons.
“Just do it,” Spade says. With my heart racing like a racehorse and my hands shaking, I finally open it and get my first glance at who Jordan expects to be my birth father.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I flop down on a chair and gape at the photo, my mouth open.
No fucking way. It’s like I’m glancing into my future; the resemblance is uncanny.
That dark hair, those green eyes, skinny build, even his nose is like mine.
“Holy shit,” I hear behind me as Spade peeks at the photo behind my shoulder. “You two are like twins. How wicked is that?”
I feel Soph’s arms wrap around me. She rests her chin on my shoulder and squeezes tighter around me. “Jax, do you need a moment?” Her quiet whisper echoes in my right ear.
“No, I’m right where I should be. I—” My voice breaks, and a tear falls down my face. I can’t believe that this is him. It must be, as Spade pointed out; it’s like we are twins.
Jordan sits across from me. “Are you ready to hear more about him?”
After seeing my nod, she tells me about my father.
“Reid Thomas Walters was eighteen when he met your mother while visiting his cousins in Omaha for the summer. Four years later, he graduated from Yale, earning summa cum laude in business. He works at the Wall Street and lives near Washington Square Park with his wife and three young daughters—”
That catches my attention. “Daughters?”
“Yes, you’ve three half-sisters. The oldest turned eleven this summer, and the other two are eight and five. They all have the same coloring as you and your father; dark hair and green eyes.”
“Holy shit.”
Jordan hands Soph a piece of paper. “Here’s Reid’s number. I haven’t contacted him yet, but what I found about the guy tells me he had no idea you existed. I hope you two get to meet one day.”
Soph thanks her and takes the note. I sit there in shock, there are no words to describe how happy I am. But at the same time, that happiness comes with doubt and hesitation. I know that I want to get to know him, so I’ll contact him soon. Just not right away.
“Thanks, Jordan, for everything.” I get out before more tears fall down my face. “It’s, um, more than I ever expected. Thanks.”
She gets up and walks to me, opening her arms. I hug her and whisper another thank you against her hair.
“I’m just glad it turned out this way. Let me know if you contact him.”
“You mean when I contact him, right?”
She chuckles. “That’s right. It has been good to meet you, Jax.”
“You as well.”
Soph walks Jordan to the front, and I stay behind with Spade. He brings me a Diet Coke and a granola bar. “You better eat and drink something before you make that phone call.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you; you know that, right?”
“Yeah, sure do, boss.”
The only thing I have left to do is to contact him.
It isn’t as easy as it sounds—how do you tell a man that he might have fathered a 26-year-old heavily tattooed rocker dude with a complicated past?
But it’s still something that needs to be done.
I need this for me. I need more answers.
I’m just afraid that he’ll consider it all bizarre and far-fetched.
I can’t handle more disappointment right now.
I’m trying my best not to get hopeful, but it’s hard not to.
I mean, I might have a father. Half-sisters and a stepmother. A family.
Family. That word has meant many things to me during my lifetime. Until now, it meant those who stayed with me, not with whom I share my DNA. But it could all change based on this one phone call.
I dial his number and disconnect the call after the first ring. Placing the phone on my coffee table, I wonder if I should find an alternative way to contact him. It’s only my fifteenth time pulling his contact details, and considering calling him today.
Fuck. It can’t wait any longer. I know it. Looking down, I lift my finger and press the call button one more time. The familiar sound of a connecting call rings around me as I put the call on speaker.
“Reid Walters speaking,” comes a deep male voice I recognize from the interviews I watched online last night. It’s really him. But what should I say?
“Hi Mr.— ”
“I don’t know how you got this number, but it’s my personal number for family and friends only. I’m uninterested in whatever you’re trying to sell.”
I panic as I think he’ll hang up before I even have an opportunity to say anything and utter the first thing that comes to mind. “Did you know a girl named Trisha Kingston around twenty-seven years ago? She lived in Omaha. Well, I guess she still does.”
The line goes quiet, and I have to check that he’s still there. It looks like he didn’t hang up on me. That’s a good sign, right?
It takes him a moment to finally speak, lowering his voice. “Yes, I did, back in my teen years. We met during my trip to see my cousins one summer. She was in the same class with one of them, and there was a house party we both went to. How do you know her?”
“She’s my mother…and I don’t know how to say this, so listen…I think you’re my father. You see, my mother mentioned your first name and where you live—”
“I haven’t spoken to your mother in years. How would she know all that about me?”
I know it sounds crazy, but I feel more sure about this than before the phone call. Even if he ignored my mention of him possibly being my father. Something just feels right.
“It isn’t hard to find information online. It would have been easy for her to find all that with your name alone.”
“And how do I know that you aren’t just trying to get money out of me?”
Thinking quickly, I try to come up with something to make him believe me. “What if I send you a few photos of myself? From my childhood and what I look like right now. Would that help?”
He exhales loudly and murmurs something. I can’t catch what. He might be talking to someone, but I can’t be sure.
“What was that, Mr. Walters?”
“Please call me Reid. I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Jackson Reid Bennett, sir.”
There’s a clatter and based on the sound, and the swearing, I figure he’s dropped his phone. That makes me laugh.
“Sorry about that, Jackson. I need to process everything you just told me. Send over those photos, and I’ll have a look. If I agree with you on how much alike we are, we need to have a paternity test to confirm everything.”
I expected as much. “That sounds like something I could do. Thanks for answering my call, Reid.”
“I would say no worries, but that doesn’t seem like the right thing to say right now. I’ll text you more details on that DNA test. I—I can’t believe I just said that. A son…A grown-up son.”
“Well, I discovered you weren’t dead after all, so I guess I am as shocked as you are.”
“That’s true…bye, Jackson.”
And the line goes dead. That might have been the most awkward yet hopeful conversation of my life.