THE TWIST

A DNA TEST SENT ME ON A SEARCH FOR MY BIOLOGICAL DAD AND MY TRUE IDENTITY

- Emma Gilchrist

On an overcast Sunday morning in 2020, one week before Father's Day, I walked inside breakfast joint in Nanaimo, B.C. He was already there waiting for me, wearing his standard outfit: cowboy boots and a jean jacket. His white hair poked out the back of his cowboy hat. We sank into a long hug before a server led us to a small booth at the back.

I'd been meeting my biological father, Todd Kilback, in restaurants a couple of times a year since we first met 16 years ago. But this time was different. I was nervous, already starting to sweat beneath my favourite jacket.

Watching him across the table, in a moment I've come to think of as the before, I tried to memorize every detail of him. His deep olive skin, his kind blue eyes, the dirt beneath his nails. We bantered about the pandemic, his wait for shoulder surgery, his nonexistent love life. Then he turned the conversation to me.

“I've been yakking too much, he said. How are you? Have you talked to Kim lately? Kim's my birth mom. I knew then that there was no more putting off what I had come here to say. I took a breath but still had trouble meeting his eyes.

“Yeah, we aren't really talking much these days,” I said. “I discovered something I need to tell you.

I had practised a script for this part, but the tears came before I could get the words out.

What is it, sweetie? he asked. As the tears turned into sobs, I put my head in my hands. When I finally looked up, our blue eyes locked.

Guess? I squeaked out.

What, he said. “I'm not your dad?

I nodded. At some point, our breakfast arrived, our eggs growing cold on the plates in front of us.