Family Tree
I got my DNA test results back and was shocked to find out that Joey is not my dog. After a suitable period of denial and anger, I accepted the inevitable. Joey would have to be told. He can handle it, I hoped. After all, I have been a loving and nurturing statistician.
I imagined how this painful conversation would go, edited it for grammar and spelling, then practiced it aloud. The revelation was still hard for me to believe. How would Joey really take it? Just be honest, I decided, and speak eighty percent from the heart.
Joey was lying on the sofa softly drooling when I walked into the living room. He’s a good boy, I thought. Such a good boy. I cleared my throat to begin.
Joey’s eyes popped open, and he raised his head.
“I love you!” he said.
“Hey, buddy. We need to talk.”
Joey jumped down from the sofa, his tail swishing back and forth. “A walk? Are we going for a walk?”
“In a little while if you want. But listen, we need to talk about something.” “I love you!”
“Yeah, I love you, too. The thing is, well,” I took a breath and started again. “I got the results back for my DNA test.”
Joey stopped wagging his tail and sat down. He kept his eyes on me even as he turned his head away.
“It seems that…I mean, saliva DNA is highly accurate, 99.92% in fact. So, I realize that this will sound…it’s not easy to say this, but…what I’m trying to say is…”
“It’s okay,” whispered Joey, looking back at me. “You don’t need to say it. I already know.”
I was stunned. “What? How? What do you mean?” “It’s okay, really. Just let it go.”
“But…I don’t understand. How could you know about this? Why didn’t I know?”
Joey sighed and lay down, head between his front paws. “It was in the adoption papers.”
“Adoption papers? I don’t remember any adoption papers.” “No, you wouldn’t,” said Joey. “I chewed them up.”
I sank to my knees on the carpet, confused and hurt. “How long have you known?”
Joey looked away. “Oh, about twenty-one years.”
“Twenty-one years!”
“Well, three human years.”
I knelt there in a daze, not knowing what to do or say or think.
At that moment Misty strolled in, licking a few morsels of kibble from her chin. She paused between us and assessed me with a glance. Misty looked up to Joey and said, “You having the talk?”
“Yup.”
“’Bout time,” replied Misty.
“Wait, you knew about this, too?” I asked.
Misty simply shook her head and strutted across the carpet to stare at the wall.
“Who else?” I asked Joey. “Who else knew?”
Joey covered his eyes. “Maybe Polly knew. Yeah, probably.”
“The parrot knew! Oh my god, everyone knew except me. I can’t believe this,” I cried. “All this time, and not a word, not a hint from anyone. Why? Why!? And you, Joey, especially you, my best friend. My best friend. You lied to me.”
Joey uncovered his eyes and looked directly at me, saying nothing. “You’re a real son of a bitch,” I said.
Joey raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Your point being…?”
I swiveled and turned away from him, holding back tears. “What are we supposed to do now?” I muttered. “I don’t know. It feels like everything has changed.”
Joey came to my side and nuzzled my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was trying to protect you, to keep the truth from you. But I was wrong. I’m so sorry.”
I felt the caress of a cool, damp nose and the lulling trickle of slobber down my neck.
“I didn’t have to be with you,” Joey said. “I chose to be with you.” He came close and put his snout in my face. “And I would do it again.”
I raised a hand and scratched him gently behind an ear. “Yeah. Me, too.” Everything had changed, I thought. And nothing had changed.
“What do you say we go for that walk now?”
“Yes!” shouted Joey, “I’ll get the leash!” He turned and ran toward the front door. “I love you!”
“Yeah, yeah. Me, too.”
Rising up, I noticed Misty still contemplating the Privilege White interior matte paint. I wondered how to survive getting a spit sample from a cat.
Michael L. Sussman, born in New York, has lived most of his years in Oregon. He has written many songs, a handful of scripts, a boxful of jokes, and a collection of film reviews, essays, and poems. His latest work appears in A Thin Slice of Anxiety and Points in Case.