“he told me the first morning of his job hunt, as I helped him knot his new tie.“I can tell you’re freaked out, but I’m going to make everything perfect.”It practically killed me to reflect his smile back at him. Finally, in early February, I find something I might be able to use. It's right after my DNA results come back: Benjamin Brinsley is, in fact, my father.He calls to share the good news, then asks how his grandchild's doing. “Growing ...normally,” I tell him, trying to sound excited.“We'll try to visit soon.And you're invited to the birth—September.” “Wouldn't miss it, sweetheart.” When we finally hang up, I look at my computer screen.I'd been idly Google-searching as my father and I chatted, pausing during the silences so he wouldn't hear my keyboard and assume I was bored.I was, a little, but only because I wasn't sure what to say to him.Updating him on my life felt strange—partly because he didn't know much about my life to begin with, and because my life stayed the same, day-to-day.The only matters of interest were things I couldn't tell anyone but Fiona.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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