Chapter 7
I’ve taken some decisions – the DNA, the sessions with Stephanie – and I should perhaps feel reassured by the fact that at least I have set my mind on what to do. And yet, as I walk out of Stephanie’s office, I feel lost and lonely beyond remedy.
I head towards the DNA center at first walking fast, then running, unable to control my anxiousness. At some point I realize I should give up the idea of making it there by foot because the place is way too far from here, but nonetheless I run till all the energy has drained away from me.
When I can run no more I slow down, pressing against my aching spleen. There’s a bench, and I let myself drop on it.
I pull out my cell phone and call Joshua. The phone rings and rings, but on the other end nobody picks up. I am tempted to call again, but then I drop the idea. It’s a matter of style, not calling people twice. If you got the wrong moment you should pull back, no matter what. No matter how much you need someone.
I end the call and stand there for a moment holding the cell in my hand, when I see a streetcar heading where I want to go. I jump in and drop on a seat so heavily that people turn around and stare at me.
I ride for a while, and finally I'm in front of the DNA center.
When I step in it’s about lunchtime, and the guy at the front desk is engrossed in his book while nibbling on a sandwich. The guy hasn’t even raised his eyes and for some reason I like him already. Just like that.
He notices my presence and looks up.
“Hey hi”, I say, trying to put up an easy smile
A flash of recognition flashes on the guy’s face, and he is happy, stunned, silenced by the 100s of things he has to say – or so it seems from the way his lips move just slightly without producing sounds. I cannot understand his overreaction, so I pretend not to notice.
“The other day I came here to have my DNA tested…I was told it I should wait for about 2 weeks but I would need to have my results earlier…it’s an urgent matter, you know”, I start
The guys is drinking my words and taking in every detail of me.
“I was wondering if this is possible, and if I can pay an extra fee to accelerate the process”, I conclude
“I’ve been waiting this moment for so long”, he tells me
“What do you mean?”, I ask defensively, confused about where all this is going
He doesn’t reply, and so I iterate that I am here because I want to have my DNA tested as soon as possible.
“Let me see”, he says, and starts scrolling down his screen.
I wait impatiently, shifting on my feet.
“You know, we have your results already, although they haven’t been sent to you yet. I can print them out for you if you want, I would just need a piece of ID”, he says
My hands have started shaking and I struggle to pull out the driver’s licence from my wallet, but at last I manage and hand it to the guy. He looks at it attentively, and it seems that he is looking for an answer to some unspoken question rather than trying to verify my identity.
Then he tells me, “Your DNA test says that another client’s DNA closely matches yours. Do you want me to proceed and disclose the person’s identity to you?”
My heart pounds and I can’t get myself to speak. Yes, I want to know!, I nod.
“Ok”, he says, and a moment later he hands me some papers fresh from the printer
I grab them with febrile fingers and leaf through them. And finally I read it.
Veronica Spencer
Is that my mother? My sister?
I stare at the name, as if it could reveal something about the identity of its owner.
I don’t know how much time I spent abstracted in my thoughts, and when the guy talks to me I start because I had completely forgotten his presence.
“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you”, he says and pauses
I wait for him to continue.
“I finish here at 6. Can you see me then?”, he asks
“Where are we meeting?”
“Here?”, he proposes
“Ok”, I reply
I’m about to leave, but then I cannot get myself to do so. I need to know now.
The guy senses my thoughts, “I can’t tell you just now. It’s a long story…”
“I’ll see you at 6 then. Here”
“Yes. By the way, I’m Lee, Lee Brooks”, he introduces himself, reaching out to shake my hands
“Iris Meyers”, I tell him
“At 6 then, here”, I repeat, walking backwards and turning away only when I am so close to the exit I almost hit it.