Writing Prompt: Four Lines of Dialogue Between Two People

"How could you keep this from me?"

"You weren't ready --"

"What gave you the right to decide I wasn't ready to know?"

"You weren't ready to ask until now."

"What the fuck, Dad? Can I even call you 'Dad' any more? I'm 18 fucking years old! And you only told me now because I shoved my DNA test in your face! When were you going to tell me?"

"I suppose I kept hoping I wouldn't have to. I didn't want to spoil your memory of your mother. You've idolised her since she died. I didn't want to take that away from you. But now that you're researching your family tree on that website... I didn't know you were doing that - or that you were going to do a DNA test... it's time you knew the truth."

"Damn right! If you're not..."

"Yeah. umm... Your mother and I were having problems. We didn't have a lot of money. We'd just moved here for my new job. She wasn't coping with it all - the lack of money, being away from your grandparents, the whole bit. We argued a lot."

"And...? Get to the point!"

"The point is she left me. She walked out and left me for another man."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. It wasn't for long, and she came back, and we sorted out our problems. But... yeah... that was when she got pregnant."

"Wow. So... umm..."

"Who?"

"Yeah."

"Well... she went back to a man she'd been seeing when I met her. She actually left him for me, back in the day."

"So... he's my father."

"Yep."

"Who is he? Do I know him?"

"No, you don't. He moved away a few years later. He was married, and they moved away. I don't know what happened to them or where they went."

"My mum had an affair with a married man?"

"Well, he wasn't married when they were dating. But he was married later, when she went and stayed with him."

"But..."

"She was only human. She wasn't a saint. I suppose he wasn't, either."

"I don't even..."

"I know."

"NO YOU DON'T KNOW YOU DON'T FUCKING KNOW HOW CAN YOU KNOW!"

"..."

"... my whole life has been a lie."

"Not all of it. Your mother loved you. I loved - love - you. That's not a lie."

"But... I'm not your son."

"You are to me."

"When did you find out? Why did you raise me if I wasn't your son?"

"I didn't know in the beginning. Like I said, she only left for a short time. When we found out she was pregnant, I just assumed it was mine. He was married by then, so I didn't think anything happened when she stayed with him and his wife."

"So she lied to you?"

"It's not that simple. I never asked. She didn't lie. She just let me keep assuming."

"But when did you find out?"

"When she was dying. I suppose she had a guilty conscience, or figured someone needed to know the truth about you in case you ever needed to know, so she told me while she was sick."

"What did you do?"

"I forgave her. There wasn't much else I could do. She was practically dead, so there was no point having a go at her. And then, there was you."

"What about me? Why did you care when you found out I wasn't your son?"

"I loved you. I still do. And it wasn't like it was your fault. Anyway, what could I do? Your mother was dead, I didn't know where your biological father was, and you still felt like my son. I'd raised you for seven years. You couldn't have been any more my son even if you were related by blood. And, if I'd walked out, you'd have ended up as some unwanted foster kid. I couldn't do that to you. I loved you. I still do. You're my son."

"Oh... Dad..."

This is based off a true event in my life. Please excuse the mild vulgarness of it.

I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off. The head was empty which was very unusual. Being alone in a quiet environment was a nice change of pace. As I stepped up to the corner sink and took my tooth brush from the shower kit I had left on the sink, I realized I wasn't alone. BM3 Santos walked up beside me and said, "Lars, I saw you get out of shower. You got little dick."

Santos was Filipino and sort of odd. No one knew exactly where he came from. He always spoke in broken English and used the phrase, "big dick" to let you know what he thought of you. Big dick meant he likes you, and thought you were tough and a man. Little dick meant you were a wimp and he didn't like you for some reason. Santos had it out for me because of an issue with spilled paint. I didn't spill the paint, but Santos wouldn't care even if he knew.

I looked up at Santos as I brushed my teeth, and as he washed his hands he said, "You hear me Lars? I said you got little dick."

I just looked ahead and kept brushing.

As Santos walked out the door he made sure his head was the last part of him to leave and said the words, "Little dick." drawing them out so they almost echoed.

I rinsed my tooth brush, put it in it's case, and said to no one - "Apparently I have little dick." Then I went to bed.

"We're out near the tracks. We've got him, ambulance on the way but I don't think he's going to make it."

"What wild goose chase have you been on? The guy's already in cuffs at the station."

"...our guy?"

"Do you know who we're looking for?"