The True Story Of How I Met Your Daddy

My hand shakes as I write this, but I have to get it down. It's the last thing I'll be doing in this life. I want you to know who your real parents are, and the real story behind them. I love you, my baby boy.


6. Testing


I had the photo in my hand, and I was ready to confront him. I had spotted an open window, and had slipped through it into his home. I had warned him that I was going to be back, and I had backing from the CIA this time. Following the sound of piano music, I found him. Now he was going to be sorry for calling me a liar.

He was playing this jazzy 20's-sounding Charleston beat. Completely unlike anything I've ever heard before. He must be trying to compose a new song for a new album.

"Need a little help with that?" I asked, as he jumped up in shock.

"You really don't give up, do you? What do you want and how'd you get in?" He eyed me warily, as I held the polaroid in my hand, alongside the testing kit that came in the mail.

"I said I'd be back. Firstly, you left a window open out the back. Secondly, you said you wanted proof. Well here you go." I skimmed the photo across the piano top, where it came to rest right in front of him.

"I doubt that he'll look anything like me." He picked up the photo, and his eyes widened dramatically. "Holy lord. Oh, holy lord. But I nev-"

"Clearly you did. All I need now, is a bit of your DNA, and in 40 days, it'll be confirmed. You are my baby's daddy." I held up the testing kit with a bit of mine and my child's hair in it. All I need is his.

He stared daggers at me, pulling a few strands of his hair out. Then he handed the photo back. "Alright then. I'll support your child. Only until the results come back though. After that, you're on your own."

"What makes you so sure that Braden-Harlem isn't your son?" I asked, sealing the kit.

"Who?" He asked, looking confused.

"Braden-Harlem. It's your son's name. I thought it would link with the celebrity culture." I explained, tucking my photo back in my pocket.

"Hm, sounds ridiculous. Alright, I'll support him if he's mine." He scowled at me. I don't care that he hates me, but as long as he treats my son right, I'll tolerate it.

"Well in that case, I need a bit of cash to get back into work." I say. I don't really need it, but it would be useful to have a bit extra on stand-by. Just in case something goes wrong.

"Fine. Here you are. Make the most of it though, as I only have to do this for 40 days." He still doesn't believe me, but who cares. Taking the handful of bills, I tuck them in my pocket.

"Oh I will. I just have to get back and pay the babysitter, as I've been gone for too long now." I reply, going to leave.

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