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You see, Joe was never really your father. Yes, we were married but he never impregnated me, so he was never the so-called sperm donor for you." If Joe was never my father, then who was, Mom?"At that moment, Art walked into the room. "I'm your father, John. You are my son, both biologically and adopted. I think we owe you a big explanation." I don't understand. Why did you adopt me if you were my father in the first place?"My mom looked at me and began the explanation."Joe and Art were in the army together. When they got out of the service, I was dating Joe. Eventually he asked me to marry him and I did. I was young then and really wasn't thinking. Joe was a good looking guy and, before he went in the service, we went out a few times and got along fine."After we got married, he changed. He seemed bitter at the world. He started staying out late and drinking a lot. I found out that he was having affairs. I didn't know any of the women. It really hurt that he would do this to me."Art. So there."She rose from the bed and brought the bottles and table cloth into the kitchen. While I heard her running water and cleaning I made myself comfortable in the bed, lay on my side, and pulled the covers up to my neck. I shivered as the 'flu coursed through me, but soon the blanket warmed me and I relaxed.Martha Jane turned off the lights, except for one small lamp in the living room. Then she came into the bedroom and turned out the ceiling lamp using the switch on the wall by the door, and reached under the bedside lamp to turn off the last light in the room. We were dimly lit by the glow from the small living room lamp.Martha Jane hiked up the legs of her jeans to make herself more comfortable in bed, and quietly lay down beside me. She held her palm against my forehead. "You still have a little fever," she whispered. She fiddled with the blankets and straightened my pillow. She felt me tremble. "You still have chills?"Lying on my side, I nodded slowly."Well, don't you.
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