Closure for Dylan

After an affair people hurt. It's a fiction; any concordance with reality is only accidental.

***

Patrick Stevens was about to enter his house when he felt a gun in his back.

"Don't do sudden gestures," he heard a voice.

It was not a firm voice, rather a hesitant one.

"A beginner," Pat thought. "The most dangerous burglar, because he doesn't know what to do."

"Take a few steps," continued the voice.

Pat obeyed.

"Light up the light and sit in the recliner so I can watch you."

After the man executed all the orders, he could look at the aggressor. He was a young mulatto.

"You don't want me, buddy," Pat said. "I have nothing valuable in my home, life is harsh in this town after the recession."

Then he thought better and continued: "I have only my wedding ring. If you want it, you can have it."

"I don't need it," the young man burst out. "Why do you think I'm a burglar, aren't you tired of stereotypes? Tell me why you asked my mother to leave me to marry you!"

Luckily, Pat was already seated, otherwise, he would have collapsed.

"I think you're talking nonsense ..." he managed to swallow.

"Don't say that to the gunman," the young man cried. "Jennifer Vico was my mother, you married her twenty-five years ago. You probably hate kids because you don't have one."

"Look, young man, I don't know who you are and why you play this game with me. When I met Jenn, she was single, with no strings attached. As for the offspring, of course, I wanted them, I have a lot of siblings, only that she resisted. "

The one with the gun sat on the couch; he looked a little disappointed.

"I can't believe you didn't check it out," he continued in a faint voice.

"This is now, I'm an average man, with limited resources. Anyway who searches the wife's past? Who asks if she abandoned a child? You can have your gun or not, but all this story seems crazy to me. If you want to kill me, do it faster! "

"Don't hurry like this, mister suicide," the gun holder responded. "First of all, I want to clarify the situation. Your wife is really my mother, I learned this from my adoption file."

"I thought this was a secret," Pat replied.

"Of course it is!" the young man rang. "But there are corrupt officials too!"

"I'm sorry for your suffering, buddy, I don't know what to say. I repeat, she never said a word about you; in fact, she didn't like any talk about children. Now, if I'm thinking, I find it odd."

"Would you married her if she was a single mother?"

"Look, that's just a strange question. I don't know what to answer; probably not, but it doesn't matter, because it never happened."

Pat watched the younger with more attention, he had pleasant traits.

"Maybe that makes me your stepfather. If it's not too late, we can try to get to know ourselves. What's your name?"

"I'm Dylan, but don't name me your stepson, not even in a joke, if you don't want me to shoot you. I already have a father and a mother, my adoptive parents. "

After a short pause, the intruder continued:

"Speaking about knowledge, you live in a fog."

Patrick shrugged.

"Your wife cheated on you all your marriage with my sperm donor, Tyrone, you know nothing."

Hearing these, the host fainted.

When he woke up, Dylan was rubbing his temples with vinegar, and the gun disappeared.

"It's a ridiculous situation," the young man continued. "From the aggressor, I became your savior. Don't dye on me."

Patrick smiled, but it was rather a rictus.

"What evidence do you have? Who is this Tyrone?"

"I've been watching them for three weeks, I have pictures, movies, sound recordings ... don't tell me I got them illegally, I don't care ..."

"Legality of proof is my last problem at this time, I want details,"

"Believe me it's best not to see them, you'll be obsessed with them, you'll never want to see your wife anymore ..."

"I'm not sure I'll have a wife in the future..."

Patrick thought a little and added: "Of course, if it's true ..."

"Call and summon her at home! Tell her to get Tyrone and you'll find the truth," proposed Dylan.

Patrick put his hand on the phone and called his wife.

"I don't care what you do now, come home immediately if you want to have a marriage. And bring this Tyrone too."

Then he closed the phone and didn't answer when she called him back.

In half an hour the two entered the door, at least with separate cars. They didn't see Dylan from the beginning because he was hiding. But as he saw them inside, he removed his weapon and asked them to sit down.

Tyrone was a well-dressed African-American, about the same age as Patrick; he seemed disturbed by this meeting, but he tried to keep his calm.

But Jennifer could not hide her anxiety, she was over-agitated.

"What's going on here, honey," Jenn asked. "Who's the gun guy? How do you know about Tyrone? How much do you know?"

Patrick took his head in his hands and didn't answer. Instead, Dylan spoke. "I know you somewhat, you are my carrier-mother, and you, Tyrone, are the donor sperm."

Jennifer stared at him: "What do you say?"

"My true parents are the adoptive ones, you only acted as a carrier-mother. As for him, he didn't really have a contribution, I understood that he never wanted me."

Jenn started to cry, but Tyrone was trying to get up on the couch.

"Sit down, if you don't want me to blow your knee," Dylan ordered.

"Tell me why you didn't want me, I understand you now have a wife and four children, I've seen them from a distance ..."

"Leave my family alone, maniac!" shouted Tyrone. "If you have a problem, you have it with me, not with them ..."

"That's not for you to decide," the young man replied in a very calm tone, which made the interlocutor beat.

"Look, it wasn't personal," Tyrone said. "I was very young and ambitious. I wanted to make a career, to prove that Brothers have something to say ..."

"Don't take me with slogans," Dylan snapped, "Father and mother are blacks too; they adopted me in their youth and still made a career."

"What do you want me to tell you? Shit happens."

"Tell this man why and how you cuckolded him. Don't try to lie, I have all the necessary evidence."

Hearing himself named in this manner, Patrick flinched but said nothing.

"I don't make a cuckold from him," Tyrone said, embarrassed. "Actually, we never talked about him, it's just something between me and Jenn before she married him."

"Details, give details," Dylan asked.

"If you know why you ask? We met every Monday at the motel for exactly four hours."

Suddenly Tyrone became angry. "You filmed and recorded us illegally, right? You can't use the evidence in court, I will not afford it!"

"You are not able to forbid anything," Dylan replied. "You are at my mercy, maybe I'll send all my proofs to your wife, maybe not..."

"What do you want, money?" Tyrone asked.

"Keep your fucking money; I want closure. I'm about to marry a fine girl, but first I want to get rid of this burden, I want to understand why you left me."

"I was too young then," interrupted Jennifer. "He didn't want to support me and I couldn't keep you, I was at least content to pick a good family."

"Why haven't you talk to Patrick about that?"

"How could I? You don't understand, it was always an open wound for me, so there is no discussion. Because I felt so guilty, I didn't want any more kids."

Jenn turned to her husband, she asked for forgiveness, and then she burst into crying again.

"My family doesn't like Jenn," continued Tyrone. "I couldn't lose their support."

"But you met her every week."

"Well, I'm a man, and she is ... (he wanted to say good fuck but changed his mind) She knows how to treat a man, and once a week is not that much."

"Good for you Jenn, you cheated on your husband your entire marriage," Dylan mocked.

For her, every "Jenn" was like a slap, somewhat she expected to be called mother.

"I'm very sorry," she said. "The truth is I never thought I'd hurt Patrick. In my mind, I needed to have a bigger dick from time to time, I was offering my supplement for a happy marriage."

"So, my endowment wasn't enough for you," Patrick chimed in for the first time.

"You're wrong, it was very satisfactory and I was a faithful wife, except this time on Monday."

"This is a new definition for faithfulness," added a bitter Pat.

"Why don't you met more often?" Dylan said curiously.

"It's not your problem," Tyrone snapped.

"I'll answer," Jenn called. "At least for me, a large measure is not easy to bear, more often than a week it would have been painful, but so it was just fine. Tyrone has other mistresses, so he didn't suffer."

"Just fine," Patrick repeated.

"I'm sorry, honey," said Jennifer.

"Now, when I know you, I'm happy you aren't my parents," concluded Dylan. "My parents are quality people, not like you. I'm only sorry for Pat, he doesn't deserve this shit."

"You wasted my life, Jenn," Pat chided. "Your cheats weren't enough; you took my chance to have offspring. The only solution is divorce."

"No, honey, you have no reason to do that. I only love you, Tyrone only gave me the energy I needed to act at my best. It was like a ritual for me."

She didn't even realize how this sounded to her husband.

"What now?" asked Tyrone.

"I'm leaving and we'll never see again," Dylan said.

"Pat, my man, I'm sorry for you. About the gun, it's fake."

It is said that the truth heals, but Patrick felt like a zombie, Jenn was crushed, and Tyrone feared that Dylan could inform his wife about his deeds. Is there a morality to this story? Let readers express it.

(to be continued)