It’s not something I ever spoke of with anyone in my immediate family circle. But I have a lot more biological children than my parents are aware of. These include some children fathered as a sperm donor, as well as an out-of-wedlock son. I didn’t want to burden my relatives with this knowledge. I mean, why should I, and why would I? They know I was married, they know I have three children with my ex-wife and they’re close to them. What none of them knew until today is about… the others.
She saw a picture of my son and she immediately knew. No hesitation, no uncertainty. She just knew, on the spot. “He has your ears,” she said, “no DNA test needed. This boy is family.” Those ears she refers to, they’re not just my ears, they’re the ears of my mother’s father, too. My brother has them. My uncles have them. He has my eyes, too — a little small, squinted, like Clint Eastwood on a sunny day staring into the distance as bandits approach with ill intent. His hair is somewhat wavy, slightly curly, and the color is inbetween light brown and dark blond. Which is funny because his mother is very Hispanic-looking. It appears my genes won out, in the end.
At first, I was mortified. Now, I am at peace with it. Secrets weigh heavily on the soul. I have compartmentalized my life quite effectively, but the truth tends to come out one way or another, whether we like it or not. My biggest secret is the fact that I have fathered far more children than people close to me are aware of. Well, it used to be. Now, it’s out. In a way, it feels like a relief. At the same time, it doesn’t — this out-of-wedlock son in particular is a tricky case, as his mother effectively ghosted me years ago. I’d rather have kept it hidden until I at least fixed that matter, or hidden it forever if I hadn’t.
