As Eric and I had agreed, I received the notification about the results. My heart raced with excitement as I logged in to the website. Before pressing the “DNA Matches” button, I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for whatever lay ahead.
I paused for a moment, feeling a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.
Then, I clicked the button. Within seconds, Eric’s DNA match list appeared on my screen. My eyes scanned the results, and they froze on the first match. My heart skipped a beat, and a wave of heat washed over me, despite the absence of warmth in the room.
My immediate instinct was to call Eric right then and there, but I checked the time—it was noon, and I knew he was at work. It wouldn’t be appropriate to drop this bombshell while he was busy with his job. So, I decided to wait until later in the day.
Hours passed, and 5 pm finally arrived. Eric should have been home by then. I picked up the phone and dialed his number.
“Hi Eric,” I began, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. “Are you home yet?”
“Well, hello to you too,” Eric replied with a hint of amusement. “You’re calling me. What does that mean?”
“It means the results are in,” I replied matter-of-factly.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Eric?” I broke the silence. “Can we meet tomorrow?”
“Hmm,” he hesitated, his voice uncertain. “Well, what did you find?”
“Do you want me to give you the details now, or should we discuss it in person?” I inquired. “No, no, don’t say anything. I’ll come over tomorrow after work,” he replied.
We agreed to meet the following day at 8 pm.
I couldn’t fathom how Eric spent the time leading up to our meeting, but for me, the hours dragged on as I anxiously anticipated our discussion. Finally, at 8 pm, there was a knock on my door.
We made our way to my study, where the computer was already on and ready, though the screen remained dark. I had learned from our previous meeting to be better prepared, so on the table, I had set up a glass of water and a box of tissues.
Eric automatically lit a cigarette; he didn’t need to ask for permission in this smoker’s house.
“Coffee?” I offered.
“Yes, thank you,” he replied.
I returned to the study with coffee for him and hot chocolate for myself. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he said, “Well, let’s see what we’ve got,” prompting me to turn on the computer screen.
He stared at the screen for a full minute before finally looking at me. “Please explain what all these numbers mean. What did I get?”
I began, “You have a very high match.”
“How high?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “What’s the relation?”
“You have a half-sister,” I replied.
Eric’s reaction was silence. He took a few puffs from his cigarette and continued to study the screen.
“Eric,” I turned to him, “do you understand what that means?”
Still, he didn’t respond. “It means that you have either a father or a mother in common with this person,” I elaborated.
He extinguished the cigarette and immediately lit another.
“I can’t believe it,” he muttered to himself. “Is this DNA stuff for real? Can’t there be a mistake here?”
“No,” I assured him. “Unless there was some extraordinary error at the lab, which I highly doubt. You have a close match, and the DNA doesn’t lie.”
“I’m shocked,” he said quietly, as if to himself.
I reminded him of our previous conversation when we discussed the potential results. He had expressed confidence that he would be okay with whatever we found. Now, he sat in front of me, clearly in shock.
“Yes, according to the amount of DNA you share with this woman, she is your half-sister,” I reiterated.
“Damn! What am I going to do now?” Eric looked at me, his eyes filled with uncertainty.
“Talk to me,” I urged. “What’s going through your mind?”
“My parents,” he replied, his voice filled with agitation. “How can I tell my parents? They don’t even know I took the test, I never told them I was searching.”
I remained silent, allowing Eric the space he needed to express himself.
“It will devastate them,” he said quietly. “I can’t put them through that.”
I continued to hold my tongue. From this point onward, Eric was in control, setting the pace and dictating the rules.
Many thoughts raced through my mind. I knew what I might do in his situation, but this wasn’t about me. This was his story, his call.
“Wait,” he said suddenly. “Am I the only one who can see this?”
“These are your results,” I explained. “Only you can see them. Each of your matches is notified individually about a new match—which is you. Whether or not they see the notification, log in to the site, and check for new matches depends on them.”
“It seems like what you’re really asking is whether she also knows,” I added. “Right?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Does she know I’m her brother?”
“She’ll see that there’s someone who is her half-brother—that would be you,” I clarified. “But she won’t know who you are because we didn’t use your real name. It all depends on whether she checks her matches. Someday, she may see you on her match list.”
The weight of the information seemed overwhelming. Eric got up, thanked me for the coffee, and leaned in for a hug.
“Thank you for everything,” he said. “I’ll talk to you in a few days.”
Four days passed with no word from Eric. Then, my phone rang.
“Hi, Janna,” I heard his voice, heavy with emotion.
“Hi, Eric,” I replied.
“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” he began, his words measured. “It’s all I could think about since our meeting.”
There was a pause.
“I’ve decided not to do anything for now,” he continued. “To leave it as it is. I can’t contact her without telling my parents, and I feel terrible about not telling them about the test. So, that’s it. I’m not going to do anything.”
“Okay, Eric,” I said, my voice calm. “I promised you that whatever you decide, I’ll support it. If you choose not to take any action for now, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“What if she contacts me?” I asked. “Should I respond? What do you want me to do?”
Eric took a moment to think.
“If she contacts you, don’t respond,” he decided. “Yes, tell me if and when that happens. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.”
“No problem, Eric,” I assured him. “Whatever you say.”
“So, I guess that’s it?” he asked.
“For now,” I confirmed. “Until you decide otherwise. I’m here for you—always remember that.” And with that, he hung up.
I placed the phone on my desk, my eyes shifting to the open screen displaying Eric’s DNA results. Tears welled up and began to stream down my cheeks.
I cried for Eric, caught in the emotional turmoil of his discovery, wondering if he had given up or if this was truly the best choice for him.
I cried for his sister, unknowingly missing out on the chance to know her brother.
I cried over the heavy secret that Eric chose to carry, a secret that weighed on his conscience, especially when facing his parents.
And, if I’m completely honest, just between us, I admit that I cried for myself. I had become emotionally invested in Eric’s journey, and I couldn’t help but wish for a happy ending. But life doesn’t always work that way.
Two long years had passed since then, and I was still waiting for Eric’s sister to log in to her account, a silent participant in their unfolding story.
