A Wilson by blood
going thru results · 07/07

"Sit down, Nathan for Christ sakes. Pacing back and forth like a pansy won't prolong the inevitable. Sit. Have a shot with your old man because you're gonna want to after reading this."

Glancing up at the older Wilson from his stance, Nathan had all the wear in his face shown without trying. The disheveled look along with a rough scratchy face from going without shaving, added to his lack of sleep. He cared less of his appearance and also what was expected of him as the week progressed. The man was nervous, stomach rumbling while waiting to read the contents in the envelope. This reminded him of his days as a teen, waiting for an acceptance from his top school of choice, only receiving the opposite. Rejection was not the same as accepting fact, scientific in nature for what will now become etched by blood. His, and that of the woman he flocked around Boston with twenty something years ago, would have contributed to a little bruised knuckle firecracker. She was explosive and had no warning whilst treading into his life. No protective shield for what he was about to be hit with. As soon as the graying man fiddled with the envelope and it's unsealed contents, Nathan's steps walked further away out into the space between the kitchen and the dining area. It was lit, changing by the moment as lights clicked over of different hues on a timer. The first time he shared his second place with someone other than his woman. Nate's steps stopped right before hearing his own father's voice, who was just informed about being a grandfather, speak.

"In the case of Nathan Eric Wilson...."

"Fuck all the way off. Seriously, dad? Read it. Just read the damn thing!"

His father detected urgency and a fistful of nervousness in his voice. From one generation to the next, the man was just as disturbed, yet held his own in room for his son's reaction. To claim a child, now an adult was unfathomable. Nate was under the impression that Rowan was his but this was mere speculation and coincidences that easily could be debunked. He had to have the proof, the percentage greater in his favor as the gene pool, the dna that bound one Wilson to the next, had to be clear. Hands wrung together, drying out the moisture from sweaty palms. Beads of sweat cluttered against his forehead, believing the devil turned up the heat as the anticipation exercised on his inability to remain cool. He was sweating more than he had in a long time without doing much work. While the graying older male sat back in the chair, he read over the paperwork with his readers helping him out.

"Son, sit down," David expressed. Looking up from his head lowered between shoulders as he covered small stretches of the floor, Nathan was certain that his pop's tone was one embellished out of a humorless nature. Worn as a young kid, waiting to hear his father lecture him about some lesson, the expression tripped him out. Nate was positive that he would hear string of words insisting a grander theme of parenthood that he skipped out on. Not on purpose but involuntarily. The stretch of footing measured in pacing ended as he pulled up a chair at the table. Body slumped, posture disrupted from the lack of care. Even if his mood was inflated with another worry or up he still would dismiss trying to hold his head up at a height that reflected a self serving ego. Important documents that mapped out the scientific reflection of a paternity test, was pushed across the table. Condensation from beer dampened the envelope on its passing before hand grappled the unit of papers.

Eyes scanned the names involved, carefully rereading all there needed to be as he slumped further into his seat. Rather the first time upon discovering that there was a connection between and old flame he nearly forgotten, to the child that was born from it, it was like the color drained from him all over again. Not for the idea of not wanting it to be truth but for the challenges he had to face. Missing almost a quarter of a decade of a person's life was a big deal, larger than he never would understand the reaction to. His father looked on while nursing his own drink. The opposite in reaction meant something more. That he was wiser in absorbing the news, but deeply had been waiting for the day that their bloodline would expand. Being his son by blood carried on a different want when a legacy had to continue on.

"There you have it. All the worrying and gutting yourself until you shit bricks won't change anything. She's yours. Make what you can of it before there's no time left to."

"Why are you so fuckin' calm about it?"

"My overjoy isn't showing enough for you, Nate? Here let me adjust it…give me a second," his father mentioned sarcastically while visibly using a hand movement cranking up near his side like a wind up toy.

"Again..fuck off," aggravation above other ingredients of emotions began to pile on top of his shoulder. It was the same shoulder he felt a hand attach to as his father reached over and gave him a firm grab. Nothing was in need of sharing, as in silence he felt all there had to be felt. If words given were for the sake of mentioning to make Nathan feel better, he didn't have them. As blunt his father usually was, it was missing in this case. Long gone were the days he sat at a table similar to the one they were sharing, and had to be reprimanded on being the prodigal son; the kid who had no choice but to go above and beyond when it was expected of him. Error was shown through out the years as David watched Nate change from teen to young man, to someone he wasn't sure he recognized anymore. For certain, there was faith that this revelation, the one of Rowan's existence, would be enough to help reel him back on a path that would not pit him against himself.

"You think it's all too late to do something or be what this kid must need after she lost her mom. What if she's someone else I'll disappoint?" Nathan looked up with glossy eyes, deeply glancing at his pops wanting the answer he was already sure of. The old man's hand gave a rough pat to Nate's shoulder prior to squeezing the drink.

"I can't tell you what you already know. By now you have a plan, on top of another plan, on top of another. Always thinking of options and a solution if one proves to be a dud, son. What you must not do is leave her in the wind for whatever reason presents itself. You know how that feels."

He felt the sting as his father brought up a point of the past. A piece of it that he still had yet to make any formal amends from as it involved his own mother. While David and Nathan shared that piece of history, only one had been affected by it the most, even in all of his forty-two years. Abandonment and other motions of forgetting their own child by some means, was a position he did not want to straddle. As the females in his life seemed to struggle with getting to the core of him, it took fate, even some predestined outline to force karma to drop the bomb of having a daughter at his proverbial doorstep twenty-four years later. His father looked on from behind readers, noting the complex workings going on, including what he may be thinking. He didn't press further on thoughts or how he was feeling. It took a long time coming to refrain from doing so.

Nathan wasn't sure if the old man was right or wrong. He wasn't sure what there was to do. Grabbing the empty shot glass, and bottle of jack, he left the envelope and its contents behind. Departing from the table and his father, he had to prolong his escape from reality. Backing from the area, booted feet carried him further away heading towards the door to find the short stairwell that would lead him to the roof. Looking over his shoulder, the two locked eyes and gave a nod in unison. While one Wilson took to the news differently than the other, they both came to some understanding that this new chapter had its ripple effect. The jury was out of if it were one for the good or bad.