Paternity

Ping!

Solomon heard the chime of a message coming in on his phone. He was facing an uninspiring view of the city, standing at the edge of some stairs but teetering dangerously on the precipice of his own sanity. His mind felt like a tight knot; no information could go in and none seemed to be coming out of it. An unfinished gin and tonic sat neglected on a short stool whose burnished wood gleamed in the somewhat harsh light of a typical January sunset. His life, like the dying sun, was going down and would soon be dark but it was taunting him with the fading heat of it.

Ping!

Another one. He knew it was Solome. Unsure what she had to say, he allowed the past eleven years to loop themselves around the now tighter knot in his head. Intrigued by the similarity in their names, they had struck an easy rapport. Falling in love had come even easier to them. Yin and Yang. Perfect for each other; still they had found themselves here; him, stunned and she, probably wreaking havoc via text message. Earlier that morning, Margaret had called him. His mind’s eye lingered on the thought of what his lover’s lips looked like when she spoke and the thought had distracted him so greatly that he first missed what she had called to say. The words lunged at him the second time she said them and then knocked him silent when he realised what they meant. She had called Solome and taken their son to her. There was no way to tell whether this was stupidity or boldfaced bravery.

‘Our son needs to know his family. His brothers.’ She had definitely not been asking for permission.

Ping!

He opened them in the order that they had come.

‘Where are you? We need to talk. Margaret is here…with company.’

‘Babe, I am not mad at you at all. Please call me as soon as you get this’

‘I side with you on this. She is lying. Can we just please talk?!’

Baffled by the solidarity, he pressed the call button to Solome. There was the usual ruckus of their three sons in the background along with a familiar voice. Samson, his brother. Ah, yes. It was Saturday, his day with the boys.

When she next spoke she was calm and clearly away from the noise.

“Solome… I know we should not do this over the phone…” His voice shook slightly.

“Do what Sol? Talk about the affair you have been having?” There was nothing in her voice.

He sighed.

“Look Sol, I know you better than anyone and I know she is lying about the child.” Now there was unmistakeable certainty. Unshakeable even.

He frowned, confused.

“Whenever you are ready to stop hiding, come back home and we discuss this.”

Hesitating first, he then asked “Solome, how can you be so sure? A-a-about the kid?”

“Because I know you Sol. You cannot sire children.”

Click.