A father’s pain Episode 21 & 22

“I must un-dergo a test to determine whether I can father a child?” I asked him.
“Yes. The first thing we nee-d to prove in court is that you a capable of fathering a child. And, it is not about belief; it is about evidence” he replied, not at all bothered by the fact that I was surprise at what he had said.
Painful though it was, I reasoned that what he was saying made s-en-se. If I prove to the court that I was capable of fathering a child, my appeal will make s-en-se. Why would a woman claim her husband is not the biological father of their children when that father is very fertile and able to father children? But, for me, that may not end the issue in my favour. So, I questioned the lawyer further.
“But if the test proves that I could father a child, how can it disprove the DNA result that I was not the father of my children?” I asked him. He smiled at me and asked me to leave that aspect to his s£nior p@rtner. He seemed to be very confident that we will win the case with ease.
I left the law chambers satisfied that I had come to the right place. I could s-en-se victory ahead; I was going to have my children back!
The next morning, I was at the Accra General Hospital before 9am. Kwabena T. Torto arrived a few minutes after. Together, we met the doctor on duty, Harry Adu, who conducted the test on me. He then asked me to come for the results in the evening. Mr. Torto and I subsequently left the hospital to return in the evening.
I went back home to sleep but, I could not. I could not watch TV, re-ad or even phone someb©dy to chat with either. I was restless. I wanted the case over and done with. As for the test I had no doubt that I was fertile and able to father a baby.
At 2:00pm, Efe c@m£ to tell me I had a visitor. When I asked who it was, she said it was my lawyer. I went to the living room expecting to see Mr. Torto only to find that it was, Carl Lomotey, my lawyer whom I had discarded after he expressed doubt that I was the biological father of my children, Peter and Pamela.
He smiled at me when he saw me. I did not return the smile. Rather, I told him to leave immediately. I said it quietly but the threat in my voice made him recoil. quic-kly, he backed out of the house, got into his car which he had parked outside the gates and drove away. I sighed in relief.
By 5:30pm, I was back at the hospital and found to my surprise that Kwabena T. Torto was alre-ady there. I nearly screamed out more in fright than anger when the doctor c@m£ out to give us the result of the test; it said I was not fertile enough to father a child.
“How? How? Why? I mean what…why…how can I not father a child?…how am I not fertile…?” I asked. The doctor sympathized with me but said that was what the result of the test showed.
I was totally devastated. I sunk to my knees in shock. The doctor and KwabenaTorto had to support me back to the car. At the entrance of the hospital before we will get to the car park, we bu-mped into Kweku, my estranged wife’s brother. He stared at me in surprise and c@m£ to us.
“What is it? I hope everything is alright” he said. The sight of him gave me strength.
“Do not come close to me!! Get out of my sight!!!” I screamed at him. He backed away, terrified by my anger. But for Torto and the doctor, I am sure I would have sl@pped Nana Kweku. He left us quic-kly, entering the hospital. I decided to walk the rest of the way to my car without any as-sistance.
John had the engine of the car running by the time I got to it. Once I was seated, he drove away without a word. I asked him to pas-s throu-gh the Pink Lady restaurant where I bought food for three. But he did not see me buy a full bottle of German-made Vodka.
When we got home, I went in-doors and began to drink. The revelation that I was sterile and could not father a baby was too much for me. The result, indeed confirmed the DNA test that I was not the biological father of Peter and Pamela.
Within twenty minutes, I had consumed a quarter of drink and was alre-ady drun!k. As I drank, I wept. I could see my world coming to crush down. Now, it was clear, at least for all the tests that had been conducted, that I was not the biological father of my children. I began to contemplate suicide.
It seemed the most natural thing to do. With my wife having cheated on me, and now the revelation that I was not the biological father of my children whom I so much loved, I felt there was nothing left in the world for me.
The thought that my children, Peter and Pamela were not mine biologically was killing me more than the fact that I caught my wedded wife in be-d with another man. How could I accept that Peter and Pamela were not my children?
I wept like a child while thinking of the best way to take my life. I didn’t have a gun. But if I had, could I shoot myself in the head as some other people do? I knew I couldn’t. Then I thought of committing suicide by hanging but I knew I couldn’t do that too. All the methods of committing suicide I had heard others use did not appeal to me. I wanted a painless death.
It was unbelievable that I was thinking about suicide. I could remember the many times I had describe-d those who took their own lives as stupid people. I had boasted time and again that nothing will ever make me take my own life. I could also remember the many times I had counselled people against committing suicide. Yet, there I was contemplating suicide.
Suddenly, my thoughts were rudely interrupted by a knock on the door. I knew immediately who it was.
“Who is it?” I asked
“It is me” I heard my house-help reply.
It had to be either her or my driver. They were the only people around me now.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Sir! We want to talk to you”
“About what?” I asked again
“Sir, we have come to submit over resignation letters to you,” I heard her say.
“You are quitting?” I asked, shocked.
“Yes sir. There is nothing more for us to do here so we are quitting,” I heard my driver, John, say.
Suddenly, I felt calmness fall upon me. I felt it was okay if my driver and house-help want to leave. I did not see it as a betrayal. I saw it as a logical conclusion of events. My wife had left me. My children had been taken away from me – no, the children were not mine after all. It was therefore natural for those who are not that close to me as my wife and children who have left, to want to leave too.
“Leave the resignation letters on the table,” I said.
“Okay sir,” I heard them both say. Then they added, “bye”.
“Bye” I said back.
After a while, I knew I was now truly all alone. I did not feel sorry for myself. I felt empty. I felt I had never lived and there was nothing to live for.
As a staunch Christian, it was amazing how I forgot to pray as I had counselled countless others to do. The last thing on my mind was prayer. I was not thinking about God. And, when I finally started thinking about Him, I started asking questions.
How could He have allowed me to live the lie all this while that Peter and Pamela were my children? How could He have looked on while my wife got herself scre-wed by another man on my marital be-d? Why did He create me infertile, as the test at the hospital showed?
Suddenly, He didn’t seem to be the God I knew. I was not angry with Him. I simply felt empty too.
Thirty minutes or so after my driver and my house-help were gone, I decided to go find out what they had written down for me in their resignation letters. I got up, went to the bathroom to wash my face. But, I didn’t. What the hell—why should I be bothered about how my face looks, more so when I was the only person in the house.
However, I was startled by my image in the bathroom mirror. I did not look like myself. To me, I looked like a junkie. I smiled. The smile looked like a sneer. I bur-st out laughing at myself and crying at the same time as I went to my be-droom door. I opened it. All was quiet. Then I stepped outside. As soon as I did that, I saw them.
……………to be continued………