<br><br><center> *I loved someone once. A woman. I loved her madly. Do you understand? We were together, in secret, for nearly twenty years. And we were told we couldn't talk about that love… because it was dangerous. It was dangerous to love […] There comes a time when the only way to start living is to tell the truth. To be who you really are, even if it is dangerous.*
― Matt Haig, How to Stop Time</center>
<br><br><center>Marnie</center>
<br><br> I'm nowhere—stranded in Vancouver—unsure if I'm Brynne's biological father and uncertain of where I stand in my relationship with Marnie, my live-in girlfriend.
I don't even know if we're friends— benefits included.
The truth is, I don't know anything about her or Brynne or where I truly stand because I'm afraid to find out—last time a woman told me the truth, I never saw her again.
I just can't bear that grief at this point in my life.
<br><br>What really concerns me is whether I can donate a kidney to save Brynne.
Biology apart, I am her father—I've sat up enough nights and cried enough tears to know that.
Sometimes relationships just come down to tears shared and time wasted.
<br><br>I leave the hospital and take a cab to my hotel.
As I enter the lobby, I stop dead in my tracks—sitting directly opposite me in a leather chair, is Marnie.
When I see her I begin to cry.
<br><br>She’s out of the chair and into my arms before I have time to react.
Whatever barrier there is between us, is gone. I sob into her shoulder, inhaling the fragrance of her hair.
She waits until I calm down, and asks, “How is she?”
“Out of danger—stabilized for now.”
“Where can we talk?”
“In the bar—or in my room.”
“Have you eaten?”
I shake my head.
“We’ll order in,” she says, taking my key card and pressing the elevator button.
<br><br>When we’re settled on the couch with drink in hand I finally have to ask. “What made you come, Mar?”
“How long have we known each other, Matt—four years? Don’t you think I was worried about you?”
“I guess.”
She shakes her head and says softly, “We’re friends—you shouldn’t have to ask.”
Her response clarifies one thing for me—we’re friends. At least, we have that.
<br><br>I want to confide in her, but it’s hard.
I hem and haw, and then finally, come out and tell her. “There’s a problem. Brynne needs a kidney transplant.”
She inhales sharply. “That’s rough.”
“It is—you know me and doctors.”
She laughs wryly. “I know—and I know you hate hospitals.”
“I’ve never been in one—never had an operation—and now, this.”
“Does the donor have to be a blood relative?”
“No—but I’m going to do it, if I’m compatible.”
“Good.”
<br><br>I pause for a moment, then whisper. “There’s another problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know if I’m Brynne’s biological father—Ally was never sure and I never bothered to check.”
“Why not?”
I shake my head and stare at the Vancouver skyline.
<br><br>“I’ve got this thing—I get anxious about stuff like this—especially involving people I care about. Guess I’d rather not know.”
She smiles sympathetically, “So, ignorance is bliss?”
I shake my head. “No, not really—it torments me, but I put up with it, for fear of losing what I have.”
“I see.”
<br><br>She stares at me with huge brown eyes that seem to look through me. I feel exposed.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asks.
“I already did it. I gave a sample—they’re going to do a DNA analysis.”
“You asked for a paternity test—Now? Why?”
“I don’t know really. It’s no big deal—it’s just a damn genetic code.”
She looks at me questioningly.
<br><br>“It’s not for the sake of the kidney donation—I’m doing that regardless.”
“Then why?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve been back and forth—trying to draw lines—define roles.”
“You have a hard time with that don’t you?”
“Yeah—I guess I do.”
“You’re really scared of loss.”
My jaw drops. *How did she figure that*?
She reads my expression.
<br><br>“It’s okay, Matt—I feel the same way too—afraid to define our relationship beyond the fact of being friends.”
“Yeah well, I can’t go on this way forever. Maybe I need some reality therapy.”
“Isn’t this enough reality for you?”
I drop my final defence. “Walking in the door and seeing you there—that was reality—that did something inside me.”
Her eyes mist. “Me too.”
<br><br>I want to say something, but my throat is dry and my lips rough as tree bark.
Out of the blue she says, “I love you, Matt.”
The room goes white. I’m holding her in my arms—gently, sweetly kissing her lips.
We stay on for a month in Vancouver.
I donate one of my kidneys to Brynne. Thankfully, it begins functioning immediately and she’s well on her way to a full recovery.
<br><br>The paternity test confirms what I already knew in my heart—I *am* Brynne’s father.
It also confirms something else—my marriage with Ally was not a complete train wreck.
Maybe I’m not a perfect dad—but she and I with child made one perfect thing of our lives.
Now, it’s up to me to put together a life with Marnie—a life without fear, and locked doors…
And a life without lies about love.
<br><br><center>© 2019, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>
<br><br><center>[Photo]( https://www.google.ca/search?hl=en&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1604&bih=716&ei=tpNVXZHUDqyk_Qaxp7qgCg&q=beautiful+brown-eyed+woman&oq=beautiful+brown-eyed+woman&gs_l=img.12...1129.10275..12722...0.0..0.137.2160.24j3......0....1..gws-wiz-img.......0j0i30.9eW1g--1Q9M&ved=0ahUKEwiRh57psIXkAhUsUt8KHbGTDqQQ4dUDCAU#imgrc=THnATyFVVUf5JM: )</center>
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