“I wouldn’t even know how to tell you,” I muttered. That could have been the truest thing I ever said.
“Let’s narrow it down then,” Mom said. This is how she made things easier—usually.
“Mom, it won’t work like that this time.”
“Yes it will. Watch! Is it about school?”
“No.”
“Is it about college? You didn’t do anything to screw up your scholarship did you? Your father will absolutely kill you if you did!”
“No, I still have my scholarship.” That wouldn’t stop Dad from killing me though.
“Is it about money. We do what we can for you, and you have that part-time job.”
“Not money either, Mom. Let’s forget it.”
“Not in your life, Buster. This is called narrowing it down. Let’s see. Is it about girls?”
“Ahh…”
“I see. It’s about girls. Remember, Scott, you can tell Mom anything. Nothing is so complicated or embarrassing that you can’t confide in your old Mom.”
“Not about this, Mom.”
Mom stepped forward and hugged me again. “Scott, you got a girl in trouble right? You got some girl pregnant.”
“Kinda,” I said, not knowing how to go on from there.
“There’s no ‘kinda’ to it. Is she your so-called girlfriend, Carrie? I knew she was too fast for you. I could see it in—”
“No, Mom, not her.”
Mom looked into my eyes and said, “Give me her mother’s phone number and we’ll start to straighten this all out. I’m with you on this, Scott. You don’t have to worry alone any more.”
Mom…”
“Her mother’s number. NOW!” Mom had quick-drawn her phone from her back pocket.
I dictated 10 digits and Mom punched them in one-by-one, then held the phone to her ear. She indicated she put on her speakerphone and the ringing was audible. A voice said, “Hello?”
“Hello, this is Scott’s mother, Mrs.—”
“Lisa?” came my grandmother’s voice. “Is this some joke I should know?”
“MOM?” my mother said. “Let me call you back later!”
My mother hung up and gave me the angry eyes. “Quit fooling around. I want the mother’s number of the girl you knocked up.
I shrugged. “This is the hard part, Mom. I GAVE you the number.”
“You’re not making any sense, Scott.”
“DON’T YOU GET IT! IT’S YOU!” I shouted, the tension had breaking me into fear and anger. Then, much more softly, “It’s you, Mom.”
“I don’t understand,” Mom said.
“At the clinic that day. When I brought Dad. I switched his sperm for mine.”
Mom’s face got long and pale and her mouth tried to work, but didn’t. She reached out for the back of a chair, and missed once or twice while she fumbled. I pulled the chair out for her and she sat down.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” she said only a little louder than the refrigerator motor.
I pulled another chair opposite her. I wanted to get all of this out as fast as I could now.
“Mom, Dad did his thing and we were checking out of the clinic, and he said he forgot his coat so I went back into the room and saw the two containers they gave him and I couldn’t help seeing that the one he used had maybe a little drop in it and not enough to do the job so I took the other cup and filled it with my cum and screwed the lid on and then wiped Dad’s out with a tissue so they’d think Dad used only one cup and that would be the one they used for you!”