The monthly neighborhood cook-out was in full swing. The keg of beer was half gone; and the women were doing what they always appear to be doing, sitting around in groups of 3, 4, etc., all talking at the same time.
Our neighborhood is actually a loop coming off of a main street; only one-way in. It's very quiet and everyone knows everyone.
The whole loop of 40 houses is invited each month to a cook-out held in the middle of the street on a cul-de-sac.
There isn't much turnover of residents in the neighborhood. About half the people are original owners. The development began 27 years ago, so we've had many years to get to know each other. The majority are professionals, now in their 50s and 60s.
Jan and I are original owners. We built our home 26 years ago.
My name is Tom. I'm 6'1", 190, and in decent shape due to going to the gym three times a week. Jan is a very attractive 5'6" blond. We are pretty much the average couple, both 52. We met and started dating shortly after college. I don't know if I believe in love at first sight, but the first time I saw Jan, I think I was in love. Jan and I have one son, Ken, a recent college grad, just beginning a career in engineering.
I was chatting with a group of about 6 men, drinking my share of the keg, when we got around to genealogy, and all the things that can now be done with DNA testing. I had become curious in the last few years to see what my family history would look like, and our son Ken had read some articles on the subject and was curious.
That night, sitting around with Jan; not doing much except trying to recoup from the neighborhood cook-out; I mentioned that, as a surprise to Ken, I might buy him a kit to do a DNA search. Maybe we're related to someone famous, or more likely, infamous.
When I mentioned this to Jan, she got a startled look on her face, but recovered immediately. I was surprised by her reaction, and I asked, "don't you think that would be a great idea? He's wondered about how far back they could track our family history." Jan just got up, and as she walked into the kitchen said, "I don't think he would like a DNA kit!"
I can't say I was shocked, but mildly surprised by Jan's reaction. She didn't seem to want to even discuss it.
Through the day I couldn't get Jan's reaction to DNA test out of my mind. She was always open to discuss ideas. She would never just dismiss an idea out of hand.
I was trying not to overthink this, but there is one obvious reason why a mother wouldn't want a son and his father to take a DNA test
All through the next day I kept thinking about it, and finally decided that I had to do it, just to put it to rest; but it had to be my secret; at least for now. I got on the internet and ordered a paternity DNA test, to be sent to my office. I ordered two-day delivery so it would arrive before Ken came over for dinner on Saturday. I got a DNA sample from Ken; and told him not to tell his mom. It would be a surprise for her.
Getting Jan's sample was easy. She often sleeps with her mouth open, so I just got up in the middle of the night and helped myself.
I sent the three samples in and waited. I had almost put it out of my mind, but several weeks later, there it was in the mail, and my whole life came to a screeching halt.
I obviously knew that Jan and Ken were biologically related, but what broke my heart is, Ken and I aren't. My son, whose diaper I had changed hundreds of times, coached through little league, and helped mature into a fine young man, was not mine!
Going through my mind at once were two thoughts. One was rage directed at my wife for what she had done. The second was a feeling of loss of my son.
I solved the second feeling quickly. My son was still my son. Just because some bastard had his cock in my whore wife doesn't make him a father. Lord help said bastard if he ever tries to replace me as my son's father.
I mustered just enough strength to get up and close the office door; then, for the first time since I was a child, I put my head down on my desk and started crying.
For the rest of the workday I was useless.
On the way home I stopped at a park; and sat for an hour. My despair finally started turning to anger. "How could she? Who the hell is the sperm donor? How many times has he donated? When did it start, when did it stop! Was it a onetime fling?" I had so many questions!
Since Jan hadn't heard any more about me getting a DNA test, she probably assumed it was just a passing thought, and her secret was once again safe; or better yet, that the test was taken, and showed that Ken was in fact mine. She probably didn't know who the biological father was, but had to know it could be me, or could be one of the other guys she was fucking, at that time.
I had to practice my acting skills around Jan. I needed time to think this through; and develop a course of action. Although I knew I still loved Jan, it was going to be hard not to grab her, shake the hell out of her, and demand to know what the hell is going on!
I got through the first evening without killing her, and she didn't seem to notice any difference. We usually make love a couple of times a week. I didn't know how well I could handle that, without her knowing something's wrong.
Lying in bed, I spent most of the first night trying to re-create our life 25 years ago. At that time, we had been married for just a couple of years. Jan had been laid off from work, so she probably spent a lot of time around the house. At that time most of our neighbors would have been young, like we would have been. We went to a lot of neighborhood parties back then. A lot of flirting, a lot of drinking, a lot of interaction with neighbors.
If the sperm donor was someone from outside the neighborhood, like the gym, old boyfriend, insurance salesman etc., I'm screwed as far as finding out on my own who he is. I'd have to accept whatever Jan says happened. It's a long shot, but if the donor is a neighbor, and hadn't moved away; there's a slight chance that I could find him. It's the only shot I've got!
I got out of bed about 2:00am and made a list of which neighbors were here at the time of Ken's conception; and of those, which are still here. From that list I deleted those that didn't seem to be even a possibility. I came up with four names. If I fail with those four, I'll have to assume it was someone from outside the neighborhood. I'll just have to make my future plans based on what Jan's version of the facts are.
I knew this was a long shot!
My plan was to get DNA samples from the four men I determined were suspects.
All four I would consider close friends. I've played golf with all four. Jan and I have been to their houses for parties and to play cards many times. We have gone to dinner with all four suspects and their spouses. All four men have attractive wives, that I would consider to be friends of mine; and even closer friends of Jan.
Even though it was tough, I was apparently doing a fairly good job of acting normal around Jan. She didn't seem to notice anything unusual about our relationship. Either that, or she did notice, but was a better actor than me.
Finally, it was time for the monthly neighborhood cook-out. We were all set up in the cul-de-sac, as people started coming out of their houses.
I appointed myself as custodian and bartender for the beer keg. I had an inventory of plastic cups, and I filled all beer requests.
Three of my four suspects were at the party.
Unfortunately, Jim, my prime suspect, was out of town, and Carl had brought his own glass mug, so I was down to two.
First Bill, and later Ray showed up at the keg. I greeted each, then filled their request using a cup from my inventory.
A half hour later Bill showed up for a refill. As I took his cup it slipped from my hand. I said sorry, and set the old cup aside, and got him a new one. Later the same thing happened with Ray's cup.
I now had the DNA for two of my four suspects.
While I manned the beer keg, I tried to keep an eye on Jan to see if there was any acknowledgement or interaction between her and any of my suspects. She didn't seem to try to interact with, or try to avoid any of them.
I wasn't very hopeful, but I sent my two DNA samples in to see if there was a paternity match. Then I waited.
In the weeks of waiting, when I saw any of my suspects, I found it harder and harder not to grab them and beat a confession out of them.
I also was pretty sure I was on a 'wild goose chase'. I only had the DNA of half my suspects, and the probability that it was any of the four was remote at best.
Another potential problem, was that even though I had found a lab that would take a beer cup for a sample, they couldn't guarantee that enough DNA could be found for a test.
Finally, I came into work one morning, and there among the rest of the mail was the package. I just walked around with it for several minutes, afraid that my answer wasn't in there. Finally, I had to know.
"I'll be damned," sample no 2, Bill Donelly, was the biological father of my son! "
Outgoing, egotistical, brash, Bill Donelly, was the last name I had added to my suspect list. He is the last of the four suspects I thought Jan would find attractive. "I'll be damned!"
Even with all my time and effort I still didn't know the whole truth. All I knew was that my wife Jan had been fucked at least one time 26 years ago by Bill Donelly. If I confronted Jan, or Bill, they've had 26 years to perfect their story. Probably both would say, even if not true, it was one time; drunk at party; can't remember a thing.
I finally decided that I had to get Bills wife, Karen, involved.
She's a teacher, and usually gets home well before Bill; so, I waited until I thought she'd be home, and called. I told her that I had a strange request, but asked if she would meet me for lunch wherever she liked, whenever she was free, and to not mention it to Bill, or to Jan. I said that it was about Bill, and it was very important. Reluctantly she agreed to meet me for lunch the next day, at a restaurant close to her school.
We met during her lunch break.
Karen was absolutely shocked, when I showed her the results of the DNA paternity test. I explained why we had to keep it a secret until we had more information. If either Bill or Jan found out we knew, we would never be sure we knew the truth.