Love Consequences (Season 2 of Nata & Phillip's Romance)

9. Just tell me

Phillip

"Is this about my father?" I set the heel of my shoe on my knee.

Dr. Luz's face distorts, as if I'm watching him on slow Wi-Fi. "Well, yes, actually-"

"Is he getting worse?" My heel that's still on the floor taps. We've done this already. Why can't doctors be more straightforward? Walking on eggshells around every new variable in Dad's diagnosis never makes the conversation more pleasant. "I saw his hands were still shaking Sunday, and I thought that with the cocktail of the medications he's on now, that should no longer be the case-"

"Phillip, I think I need to tell you the information first," Dr. Lutz says in his overly cushioned let-me-soften-the-blow voice. "I'd like you to understand that although I found out about this recently because of the tests Tom and you went through, I didn't address it with you, because it didn't affect your health in any negative way." His finger taps the arm of his chair in a contradicting rhythm to my heel.

He blows out a long breath. "I was not violating any laws. I provided the correct and full information to you, and although I didn't address the results, it's only because your father requested it."

I've heard this phrasing too many times before, delivered adjacent to either bad news or to an even longer speech meant to cover someone's ass when a mistake was made. I don't want to assume the worst, so I start with the best-case scenarios out of the bad ones I can think of. "He doesn't want you to talk to me about his test results anymore?"

"He didn't want me to tell you..." Dr. Lutz reclines in his chair, but this move that's meant to relax him only drives his already stiff posture more ridged.

"Just tell me." My lungs lose their capacity to take in oxygen. "You are making me think about the worst-case scenario where either Dad or I are dying of something incurable and you didn't want to tell me about it, because there is nothing you can do about it."

"No, no, it's not that."

"Then what is it?"

Dr. Lutz staples his hands, index fingers straight and pointing my way. "I told your father that he needs to talk to you about it, and he promised he would talk to you on Sunday when you visited him, but apparently, he never did. I was hoping that it would come from him, but I can't lie to you any longer."

"Dr. Lutz." The metal frame of the chair I'm on creaks as plant both feet and shift my body as close to his desk as I can without standing. "Say what you have to say."

"Your genetic tests are correct." He pushes a stack of papers my way like they are the chess figure making the ultimate step to checkmate I didn't see coming. "There was no mistake."

My stomach sinks. "Oh. So Dad's-"

"Tom's are correct as well."

"But the blood types. My girlfriend told me they can't be a father and sons, and she is a genius in biology. Was she wrong?"

"She was not." Dr. Lutz's eyes plead for me to behave. "You are not Tom's biological child."

The whooshing of my blood in my ears is too loud. His words don't make sense. My tongue is glued to the dry roof of my mouth. My brain fails to understand what the fuck is the meaning. I should've been a better student and learned biology like Dad wanted me to. If I did, I would've been able to make sense of what just came out of the Dr.'s mouth because they can't mean what I think they mean. This is impossible. Maybe I've misheard. Misunderstood.