Single dad Helping an elderly lady on the bus changed Daniel’s calm morning with his ill kid. Single dad Helping an elderly lady on the bus changed Daniel’s calm morning with his ill kid. The fortune teller gave him a mysterious message. Daniel agreed, unknowing that her goodbyes would haunt him in ways he never anticipated.
One of those dreary California mornings that makes you think the cosmos slept in. My one-year-old son Jamie was in his stroller, his small breaths misting the transparent plastic cover. He had a fever all night, and every whimper pierced me like glass.
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I put a pacifier in his hand and examined my diaper bag. Check formula. Spare clothes? Check. An weary father on coffee and prayer? Additionally, check.
Solo parenting wasn’t my dream. My wife Paulina was my everything, so when she died during delivery, my world fell apart. But Jamie was my anchor now, and every step was for him.
“Almost there, buddy,” I said, adjusting his blanket. “We’ll make you feel better soon, promise.”
I softly caressed his forehead, recalling the long night. “Your mama would know exactly what to do right now,” I muttered, choking.
The bus stopped, and I lifted the stroller with one hand, holding the railing for balance.
Let’s go, dude! People got places!” A driver snapped.
I said, straining with the stroller, “My son’s sick.” “Give me a second.”
“Whatever, hurry up.”
I countered stronger, cornering Jamie. The bus was hardly crowded. a few commuters with headphones or half-open newspapers.
On the next stop, she got on.
She looked odd, perhaps in her 70s. Her delicate figure was covered in flowing skirts, a scarf over her head, and silver bangles on her wrists. As she searched an old leather pocketbook, her dark, kohl-lined eyes darted rapidly.
She informed the driver, “I don’t have enough for the fare,” in a low, unrecognizable accent.
He frowned. LADY, I’M NOT CHARITABLE. YOU CAN WALK WITHOUT MONEY. Get off or pay.”
Clearly embarrassed, she paused. “Please. My name is Miss Moonshadow. I’ll read your fate gratis. Just let me ride.” Her hands shook as she extended them. Please, I need to go someplace quickly.”
A driver rolled his eyes. I want none of that nonsense. Walk or pay.”
Her cheeks heated, and she glanced over her shoulder at me before moving on. True terror was present. Something more I couldn’t identify.
“Hey! If you can’t pay, get off the bus!” She flinched as the driver yelled.
It was enough. And I stood. “I’ve got it,” I replied, reaching into my pocket. “Let her ride.”
As I gave over two dollars, the driver mumbled.
She turned to me, her eyes finding mine with an unsettling weight. “Thank you,” she whispered. It wasn’t required. You’re already burdened, I can tell by your eyes.”
I dismissed it as “it’s nothing”. “We all need help sometimes.”
Miss Moonshadow sat in the back, but her eyes followed me. Jamie moved in his pram, and I bent down to stroke his fevered face.
“Shhh, it’s okay, little man,” I soothed. “Daddy’s got you.”
I moved Jamie’s stroller to the entrance at my stop. When I passed Miss Moonshadow, her bangle-covered fingers gripped my arm with surprising force.
“Wait, here,” she whispered, slipping a folded letter into my hand.
What’s this? Confused, I asked.
Her voice whispered. You’ll need it. Trust me. Truth might hurt before it heals.”
The bus driver shouted to hurry up, and I nodded stiffly and got off. Despite my confusion, I disregarded the paper’s weight in my pocket.
I entered the pediatrician’s waiting room to see wailing infants and fatigued parents. I watched Jamie, who had fallen asleep again in his pram. His feverish face was smaller than normal.
“Mr. Daniel?” called the nurse.
I replied, “That’s us,” standing. Buddy, come on. Check you out.”
The nurse exited and said Jamie was next and the doctor would see him in five minutes. I collapsed on a waiting room chair, exhausted. My hand reached for my pocket note without thinking. I took it out and smoothed the wrinkles before unfolding.
I felt slapped by the words:
“HE’S NOT YOUR SON.”
Reading again, I blinked. Then again. My heart raced, and I shoved the letter in my pocket like it would burn me.
“Mr. Daniel?” Nurse phoned again. The doctor’s ready.”
Jamie moved, opening and closing his fists. I touched his face with my thumb. He was my and genuine. Note was false. It was required.
“He’s got your eyes,” the nurse gently stated as she brought us to the exam room.
Though I smiled, the words pierced me. However, the note’s meaning lingered like smoke, casting uncertainty on my thoughts.
The strange message tormented me for days. I kept telling myself it was meaningless. But whenever Jamie laughed or looked up at me with Paulina’s eyes, skepticism returned.
One night, I gave in. I purchased a DNA test online, feeling guilty as I clicked “confirm purchase.”
“What am I doing?” Staring at the confirmation email, I muttered. “This is crazy. This is definitely—”
My thoughts were interrupted by Jamie’s wail. He was standing with his arms up in his crib.
He wailed, “Da-da,” grasping for me.
I grabbed him tightly. “I’m here, buddy. I’m here.”
I most wanted the DNA results to confirm what I already knew in my heart: that Jamie was mine and that we belonged together.
A week after the exam, I got the results. Unopened, the envelope rested on the kitchen counter. Jamie spoke from his high chair, spilling pureed carrots on his plate.
“Alright,” I murmured, shredding the envelope.
Immediately, I noticed “inconclusive.” I discovered the crucial portion.
Jamie wasn’t mine.
I fell, paper crumpled in my hand. “No,” I muttered. No, no, no…
“Da-da!” Jamie shouted gleefully, unaware of my world falling apart.
I drove to Paulina’s mom’s home that evening, clutching the DNA findings like they would evaporate. Her pleasant grin evaporated when she noticed my face when she answered the door.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, standing aside for me.
I avoided small talk. I dropped the paper on the coffee table. Did you know?
After looking at the paper, she looked at me. Daniel, I—”
“JOYCE, DID YOU KNOW?” I snapped.
She started crying and slid into the sofa. “She told me,” she muttered.
The words hit me in the gut. I stumbled backward, holding the wall.
“My daughter made a huge mistake,” she said. “One night. Work party night was stupid. She wasn’t sure, Daniel. She doubted the kid was yours. She was terrified. She asked me not to tell you.”
So you BOTH lied to me? I burst. “Every day, every moment…it was all a lie?”
Daniel, please—
“I held her hand when she died!” Voice broke. “I watched her leave, promising to look after our baby. Our child! And you knew? You always knew?”
“She wanted to tell you,” Joyce cried. “The night before…before everything happened. She couldn’t take it. But then—”
“Then she died,” I said, hollowly. “And you said nothing.”
“She loved you,” Joyce said, crying. “She adored you, Daniel. She loved you despite her fear.”
“Love?” Bitter laughter. Love doesn’t lie. Love isn’t— Choking on the words. “Every time you saw or held Jamie, you knew.”
“He’s still your son,” she murmured. “And you’re his only father.”
“I cannot… Shaking my head. “I can’t look at you now.”
Her sobbing followed me out the door as I left without speaking.
I watched Jamie sleep in his cot that night. His small fingers wrapped around his beloved blanket as his chest rose and sank. The moon formed shadows through the window, and I recalled singing lullabies, wiping tears, changing diapers, and battling fevers here.
“Who am I to you?” I whispered. “Am I just a stranger?”
“Da-da!” Jamie moved in his sleep, scrunching up his face before relaxing. When I touched his hand, his fingers reflexively curled around mine.
Paulina’s laugh, grin, and cooking hum sprang to mind. Betrayal hurt, but so did her dying moments and how she looked at me with trust and love.
Jamie, “Your mama made mistakes,” I muttered. “Big ones. I don’t know how to forgive her.”
Still gripping my finger, Jamie sighed in his sleep.
“But you,” I said, crying, “you’re innocent in all this. None of it was requested. In the previous year… Voice captured. “Every diaper change, fever, smile, tear, and moment are real. We own them.”
Despite my rage and treachery, I still loved him when I saw him. This young guy was my universe and gave me meaning when I had none.
Hi, buddy,” I whispered, brushing a curl from his forehead. Okay, you’re stuck with me. No matter what. Being a parent transcends blood. Every sleepless night, concerned moment, and celebration matter. Choice matters. I pick you. I always choose you.”
Jamie shifted, smiling slightly.
The fact that this miracle wasn’t my son didn’t matter. He was mine in all ways that mattered. That was enough, beyond enough.
While watching my baby sleep, I learned that sometimes the greatest truths emerge from the darkest falsehoods and that the strongest relationships are those we choose to form.
“Sweet dreams, my baby boy,” I muttered, and for the first time since receiving that message, ‘son’ seemed more real.