Bob looked down at the nondescript printouts, no more conspicuous than a quarterly report from the dairy. Gilbert Reeder, 90% sibling or cousin.
“That’s pretty conclusive,” he said, pointing to his son’s name.
Elise worried her thumb and index finger, nail against flesh. “If intent counts for anything, I thought I was doing the right thing. I chose a nice couple and considered it done. I told the agency I could be contacted strictly for medical records, and I never intended to involve you, if she ever reached out.”
“What if it were something I could have helped with, medically speaking? From my side of the family?”
Elise shrugged. “I figured mine would be enough.”
“And you thought it wouldn’t ever come out.”
Elise ran a hand over her brow. “Honestly, no. How could I have possibly imagined the internet — and then these genetics companies accessing this information, no private agencies needed? That people all around the world would willingly spit in cups, drop them in the mail, and tag every last possible relative, with no idea of what they were actually doing? No one could have predicted that, Bob. I was thinking about our whole lives ahead – our options.”
A coal of anger glowed in his gut. “How did I have options when I didn’t even have the full story?”
“Well, you do now.”
***
Since private companies made genetic testing available to the general public, I’ve been fascinated by what the societal and cultural impacts would be, especially in local communities.
Spares and Strikes, my latest short story in Unwoven Literary & Arts Magazine, navigates one family’s experience in discovering an unknown relative’s existence, well into that person’s adulthood.
Thank you to Ameila Dellos and the team at Unwoven for publishing my work, and to the SWIG writers group and Andrew Wagner for being the best early readers.
Read Spares & Strikes in Unwoven Magazine >
Photo courtesy Louis Reed via Unsplash
Sarah Pascarella | Writer 