The Match

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Wilde sat next to Matthew as he brought up the link in DNAYourStory.

“Okay, see, there it is,” Matthew said. “A fifty percent share. Now we know that means either a full sibling or parent.”

“Why are you so sure it’s a parent?” Wilde asked.

“Here,” Matthew said, pointing to the screen. “This account goes by the initials RJ, but the key thing is, they list their age. Sixty-eight. That seems a little old for a full sibling, right?”

“Right.”

“So the most likely conclusion is that RJ is Peter Bennett’s mother or his father.”

Vicky and Silas had concluded that their father was Peter’s, Wilde remembered. That would make the odds pretty strong that RJ would be Peter Bennett’s mother.

“Something else,” Wilde said.

“What?”

“I’m in DNAYourStory data banks,” he said.

“So?”

“So this RJ didn’t match me at all. PB does. So if it’s PB’s mother, I’m related on the father’s side.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I’m not sure,” Wilde said, leaning back and trying to sort through it. “Let’s say this RJ is Peter Bennett’s mother. Then the most likely scenario is that I’m related to the Bennett family — Vicky, Silas, Peter — on their father’s side.”

Matthew shook his head. “This stuff gets confusing.”

“That’s because we need more answers,” Wilde said. “Let’s message RJ.”

Matthew nodded. “What do you want to say?”

They composed a message to RJ from PB, where PB noted that they were very closely related and that he — PB — had been searching for his parents, and it was urgent that they contact him. They stressed the urgent part, hinting that there could be a medical emergency, in the hopes that it would prompt a faster reply.

“Let’s give RJ my phone number,” Wilde said. “Tell them to call day or night, as soon as possible.”

Matthew nodded, typing. “Got it.”

When they both thought the message said everything that it needed to say, Matthew hit the send button. It was late now. Laila was still out. Wilde didn’t want to ask where. It wasn’t his business. He was going to head back into the woods, but Matthew asked him if he wanted to watch the Knicks game. He did, mostly because he wanted to spend more time with Matthew.

They both sprawled out and got lost in the back-and-forth of the game.

“I love basketball,” Matthew said at one point.

“Me too.”

“You were a great athlete, weren’t you?”

Wilde arched an eyebrow. “Were?”

“I mean, like, when you were young.”

“Were?”

Matthew smiled. “You still hold a bunch of our high school records.”

“Your dad was pretty good too. He had a heck of a left hand.”

Matthew shook his head. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Bring my father into it.”

“He was the best man I ever knew.”

“I know you think that.”

“I don’t think that. I know it. I want you to know it.”

“Yeah, I get that. You kind of hammer it home without much subtlety.” Matthew sat up a little. “Why is that so important to you?”

“To talk about your dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Because I want you to know him. I want you to know what kind of man he was. I talk about your dad because I still want him to be alive for you.”

“May I make an observation?” Matthew asked.

Wilde gestured for him to go ahead.

“I’m not casting aspersions here...”

“Uh-oh,” Wilde said.

“...but I think you talk about him so much because you miss him.”

“Of course I miss him.”

“No, I mean, I think you talk about him so much not so he can still be alive for me — but so he can still be alive for you.”

Wilde said nothing.

“I was just a kid when he died,” Matthew said. “And don’t get me wrong, Wilde. You were a good godfather before that. I know you love me. But I think after Dad died, you started hanging more, not just out of guilt or even responsibility. I think you were afraid to let go of him, and so when you’re with me, it’s the closest thing you have to still being with him.”

Wilde thought about that. “You may have a point.”

“Really?”

“When your father first died, yeah, I think what you’re saying was true. You and I would go out. We’d go to a movie or a ball game, and when I dropped you back home, I’d start walking back into the woods and it was like...” Wilde swallowed. “I’d start thinking, ‘I can’t wait to tell David about this.’ Does that make sense?”

Matthew nodded. “I think so.”

“I would talk to your dad as I hiked back. I would tell him what we’d done and how much fun we had. I know that sounds weird—”

“It doesn’t.”

“So yeah, that’s how it was — at first.”

“But not now?”

“Not now, no. Now I just like hanging out with you. It may be because you’re like your father. That could be it. But it’s not because of your father. I don’t talk to him when I leave you anymore. There is zero sense of obligation. I want to spend time with you. And I’m sorry if I keep talking about him. When I don’t, that makes him feel more... gone.”

“He won’t ever be gone, Wilde. But he wouldn’t want us to wallow, would he?”

“He would not,” Wilde agreed.

Matthew grinned. “Wow.”

“What?”

“That’s the most you’ve ever opened up on that.”

Wilde kicked back in the couch. “Yeah, well, I’m not myself lately.”

They both settled back as the Knicks mounted a fourth quarter comeback. During a time-out, Matthew rolled over onto his stomach and looked at Wilde.

“What are you going to do about my mother?” Matthew asked.

“You’re pushing your luck, kid.”

“Hey, I’m not myself lately either. So what are you going to do?”

Wilde shrugged. “It’s not up to me.”

“You can’t keep using that as an excuse.”

“What?”

“Your whole bit, Wilde. We get it — you can’t settle down, you have trust issues, you have difficulty with commitment, you can’t attach, you need to be alone in the woods. But a relationship is a two-way street. You can’t just keep saying it’s up to her. She can’t be working this all on her own.”

Wilde shook his head. “Man, one year in college and you have all the answers.”

“Do you know where Mom is tonight?”

“No.”

“Right now, Mom is out with Darryl. You act like it doesn’t matter. If it doesn’t, you should let her know. If it does, you should let her know. Your ‘silent man in the woods’ thing? It’s not fair to her.”

“My relationship with your mother,” Wilde said, “doesn’t concern you.”

“Like hell it doesn’t. She’s my mom. Her husband is dead. I’m all she has. Don’t tell me it doesn’t concern me. And stop hiding behind the ‘it’s up to her’ bullshit. That’s just a convenient out.”

They stopped talking then. The Knicks called a time-out down by two with twelve seconds left. Wilde’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Yes, uh, sorry. You asked me to call you. You said it was urgent.”

The voice was male, gruff, sounded like someone a little older.

Wilde sat up. “Is this RJ?”

There was a small hesitation. Then: “Yeah. I got your message.”

“So,” Wilde said, “we’re related. Closely related.”

“Looks like,” the voice said. “What’s your name?”

Wilde remembered that they’d written to RJ using the initials PB. “Paul,” Wilde said.

“Paul what?”

“Baker. Paul Baker.”

Wilde knew that Paul and Baker were always on the list of most common first and last names in the United States. It would make it harder to track down.

“Where do you live, Paul?”

“New York City. How about you?”

“I’m in that area too,” the male voice said.

“Could we meet?” Wilde said.

“I’d like that, Paul. You said it was urgent, right?”

Something in his tone and readiness... Wilde didn’t like this. “Right.”

“Do you know Washington Square Park?”

“Yes.”

“How about under the arch tomorrow morning at nine?”

“Sounds good,” Wilde said. “Can I ask your name?”

“I’m Robert. Robert Johnson.”

Another top-ten name. Wilde felt played.

“Robert, do you have any idea how we are related?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “I’m your father.”

He hung up before Wilde could say more. Wilde tried to hit the call back button, but the call didn’t go through. He tried Chris next.

“You still have some kind of trace on my phone?”

“Yes.”

“Who just called me?”

“Hold on. Hmm.”

“What?”

“Burner number. Like yours. Hard to trace an owner. Give me a second.” Wilde heard the clacking of fingers on a keyboard. “I don’t know if this helps, but the call came from somewhere in Tennessee. Looks like Memphis.”

Memphis. That was where the Bennett family had lived before their sudden move to the middle of Pennsylvania. He heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. It was nearly midnight. He moved to the window.

It was Laila.

He waited for her to get out of the car. She didn’t. Not right away. Was someone with her? He couldn’t see. Wilde watched for another few seconds. Then, feeling as though he were intruding on her privacy, he turned away.

“I better go,” he told Matthew.

“Don’t do that,” Matthew said.

“What?”

“Run away.”

“I’m trying to make it easier on her.”

“You’re not. You’re just being a chickenshit.” Matthew rose. He was taller than Wilde now. He looked like his father. He looked like a man too. When did that happen? Matthew put his hand on Wilde’s shoulder. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I’m going upstairs,” Matthew said. “You stay.”

Matthew flicked off the television and trudged up, closing his bedroom door behind him. Wilde stayed. Five minutes later, Laila came in through the front door. She looked exhausted. Her eyes were red in a way that suggested recent tears. She also looked, as Laila always did, stunning. That was the thing with Laila. Every time Wilde saw her, he was still struck anew by how beautiful she was, like it was a surprise, like he could never quite comprehend or conjure it, and so every time he first laid eyes on her, there was a little catch in his throat.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

He wasn’t sure what to do — hug her, kiss her — so not wanting to do the wrong thing, Wilde just stood there. “If you want to be alone...” he began.

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to be here?”

“I do.”

“Good,” Laila said. “Because I broke it off with Darryl tonight.”

Wilde said nothing.

“How does that make you feel?” Laila asked him.

“The truth?”

“Do you usually lie to me?”

“Never.”

“So?”

“Happy,” Wilde said. “Selfishly yet deliriously happy.”

She nodded.

“Your eyes are red,” he continued.

“So?”

“Were you crying?”

“Yes.”

Wilde stepped toward her. “I don’t want you to cry. I don’t ever want you to cry again.”

“You think you have that power?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

Laila kicked off her heels. “Do you know what I realized tonight?”

“Tell me.”

“I keep trying to force the round peg into the square hole. I’ve always bought into the belief that I needed a life partner, a man by my side, someone to share my life with and travel with and grow old with, all that stuff. I had that with David, but he’s dead now. So I try to find that with someone else, but...” Laila stopped and shook her head. “It’s not meant to be.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. That’s the thing. Tonight I realized I’m okay with that.”

Wilde stepped toward her. “I love you.”

“But you can’t be here all the time either.”

“I can,” he said. “I will.”

“No, Wilde, that’s not what I want. Not anymore. That would still be trying to put the round peg in a square hole.” She sighed and sat on the couch. “So here is what I’m proposing. You listening?”

Wilde nodded.

“You and I continue to be together when we can. Come over when you want, stay at your Ecocapsule when you want.”

“Isn’t that what we have now?”

“Are you happy with what we have now?” she asked.

He almost said, If you are, but Matthew’s words echoed in his ears. “I want more,” he said.

Laila smiled, really smiled — and when she did, he felt his heart thump-thump and something rise up in his chest. “Do you want to hear the rest of my proposition?”

“More than you know.”

“What’s got into you, Wilde?”

“Just tell me what you’re proposing.”

“We become a couple. I’m not going to make a lot of demands, but if we are going to do this, I have a few.”

“Go on.”

“You can’t just vanish on me like you’ve been doing.”

“Okay.”

“I’m tired of pretending that doesn’t hurt. If you freak out or you need to run away — if you have to disappear into the woods or whatever — you have to tell me first.”

“Deal. I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t think—”

Laila held up her hand. “Apology accepted, but I’m not done.”

Wilde nodded for her to continue.

“You and I are exclusive. Nobody else. If you still want to play around—”

“I don’t.”

“I know you like to go to that hotel bar—”

“No,” Wilde said. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Also I want someone to take care of me when I need that. And I want someone I can take care of too.”

Wilde swallowed. “I’d like that too. What else?”

“That’s it for now.” She looked at her watch. “It’s late. I’m fried, you’re fried. Maybe it’s the exhaustion talking. Let’s see how all this looks in the morning.”

“Okay. Do you want me to stay or...?”

“Do you want to stay, Wilde?”

“Very much.”

“Good answer,” Laila said.