Chapter 6 - RICHARD FINALLY SPOKE
Richard asked Daniel to meet.
Daniel refused unless I came.
I almost declined.
Then went.
We met in our attorney’s conference room.
Richard looked ten years older than he had at dinner.
“I’m sorry.”
Daniel stared.
“For what part?”
Richard closed his eyes.
“All of it.”
Then he explained.
After our miscarriage, Daniel spoke privately to him.
Not asking for genetic intervention.
Simply grief.
Daniel worried he had failed me.
Worried his fertility results meant we would never have children.
Richard contacted Dr. Mercer, an old college friend.
He asked whether Mercer could “make sure the next cycle worked.”
Mercer told him medical outcomes could not be guaranteed.
Richard asked whether his stored study samples might be useful if Daniel’s were inadequate.
He claimed he thought Mercer would discuss the option with us.
“Did you sign anything?”
“Yes.”
Daniel’s face went white.
“What?”
“A donor authorization.”
My hands turned cold.
Richard had signed paperwork authorizing use of his stored reproductive material.
But authorization from a donor is not authorization from the intended parents.
We still had never consented.
Richard said he believed Mercer would obtain our approval separately.
“Did he?”
“I assumed he did.”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
Richard cried.
“Because you called me after the pregnancy test and you were so happy.”
Daniel’s voice was flat.
“So you stayed quiet.”
“Yes.”
“For eight years.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Lily was biologically yours?”
“Not with certainty.”
“Come on.”
“I suspected.”
“That’s knowing enough.”
Richard did not argue.
Then came the worst part.
After Lily was born, Mercer privately told Richard the substitution had been successful.
Richard was horrified.
According to him, he told Mercer he had crossed a line.
But Richard still did not tell us.
He told Margaret.
Margaret insisted disclosure would destroy our marriage.
Richard agreed.
Silence became conspiracy after the fact even if he had not ordered the actual unauthorized procedure.
That distinction would later matter legally.
Emotionally?
Not much.
Daniel stood.
“You let me raise my daughter believing you were her grandfather.”
Richard looked at him.
“I am her grandfather.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“Biologically you’re her father.”
“No.”
“On the report, you are.”
Richard stood too.
“Daniel, you are her father.”
The room went silent.
Richard continued:
“I gave genetic material. I did not raise her. I did not hold her at two in the morning. I didn’t take her to preschool. I didn’t sit beside her when she had pneumonia. You did.”
Daniel’s face collapsed.
Richard’s statement was true.
Coming from him made it unbearable.
Daniel left.
I followed.
Outside, he leaned against the building and cried.
May you like
Not because he had lost Lily.
Because biology had become something his family had secretly rearranged and then used to judge everyone else.
