My neighbor’s son’s simple inquiry set me on a new road.
What I learned about my spouse left me speechless, and I knew my life would change in ways I never anticipated.
A typical Saturday. While knee-deep in my weed jungle, enjoying the early afternoon sun, I saw Dylan, my neighbor’s kid, walking up the driveway.
He was nine or ten and didn’t ask for anything but was quiet and determined.
That identical look was on his face as he approached me, hands in pockets, eyes down.
Dylan muttered, “Hi, Ms. Taylor,” from a few feet distant. He wasn’t normally bashful, so I noticed.
Swipe dirt off my hands and smile. “Hi Dylan! What’s up? Everything okay?
Moving from foot to foot, he avoided my look. “Can I swim in your pool for a while? Sorry for the interruption.”
I was surprised by the question. Dylan had never begged to swim in my pool, although neighboring kids often hung there. I thought he needed a job. He mostly spent time alone because his mom, Lisa, wasn’t home.
Of course! “You’re welcome anytime,” I murmured, looking at the pool. It’s fairly warm. You’ll feel better chilling. Want some lemonade?
Dylan shook his head, smiling slightly. “No, thanks.”
I saw him put his towel on a lounger beside the pool. Something felt odd. Not scary, but enough to make my stomach twist. Assuming I was overprotective, I ignored it. The kid’s good, I reassured myself.
I bought him lemonade anyhow. Too hot for him to be dehydrated. I went inside, poured a drink, and left just as he took off his shirt.
Then everything changed.
I froze. Freezes completely.
The glass fell from my grasp, breaking at my feet. It was hard to breathe as my heart raced.
Dylan’s back has a huge, uneven birthmark below his shoulder blade.
That birthmark seemed too familiar. My hubby had one too. The same form and location. My brain couldn’t handle it. Like a dreadful dream I couldn’t wake up from.
“Dylan,” I shakily called.
His hair dripped as he glanced up from the pool. “Yeah?”
I gulped hard and pointed vaguely at him to maintain my voice. “That mark on your back… How long have you had it?
Dylan blinked, perplexed. “Huh? What about the birthmark? My mom believes I’ve got it from birth. Why?”
Feeling blood pour from my face. My stomach churned as I attempted to smile and seem normal. “No reason. Just curious.”
He shrugged and resumed swimming, unconscious of my worry. The same birthmark. I heard my spouse joke about how unusual it was and how it looked like a blotched star years ago. My gaze was now on Dylan.
I hurriedly left, not wanting Dylan to witness my fear, perplexity, and rage. I wanted answers, but where to begin?
That night, I wandered the living room, gnawing my nails, unable to sit still. The turbulence inside me was invisible to my spouse in the kitchen.
“Taylor, everything okay?” Calling out. “You paced for an hour.”
I jumped at his voice to sound nonchalant. “Uh, yeah… just thinking about stuff.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. My heart hammered. I couldn’t ask him yet. Not without proof.
I kept an eye on him while he got ready for bed. I hurriedly grabbed his comb off the nightstand as he showered. I tugged a few strands of his hair with trembling fingers. I put them in a plastic bag and put them in my handbag as he entered.
“You coming to bed?” he inquired, swiping a towel across his hair.
I murmured, “Yeah, in a minute,” my thoughts racing.
Luckily, Dylan requested to swim in my pool again the next morning, and I took some of his hairs off his towel while he was swimming. Despite guilt, I had to know.
Days later, I sat at the kitchen table with shaky hands and DNA results, scarcely breathing. My pulse raced as I opened the package.
There it was. 99.9% match.
I dropped the paper, stared at the floor.
I was devastated by the betrayal, but I didn’t give up. I lived next to the woman my husband cheated on me with for years, seeing their son grow up in front of me while unaware. My marriage and existence were lies. But I wouldn’t crumble. I had a more pleasing idea.
I wanted payment. Not via debate or conflict. No, I wanted him to feel the shock and anguish I felt when I opened that mail.
The next weekend, I hosted a “neighborhood BBQ.” I invited Lisa and my husband. Nobody knew the other was coming. The plan was straightforward. I would be the perfect, naive wife, all smiles and kindness, until I spoke the truth.
I smiled at Lisa at the door on Saturday, acting like everything was OK. My spouse came shortly after, unaware. He kissed my cheek, unaware of my plans. I grinned back, feeling chilly satisfaction.
Three of us sat at the outdoor table. Serving the dinner, my pulse raced but my hands calm. They didn’t sense the tension in the air. I wasn’t listening when Lisa talked about Dylan and my husband commented with his typical charm. Was waiting.
I poured myself a glass of wine, took a sip, and placed it down with an unreal serenity. Then I calmly dropped the bomb.
“So, I got the results from a DNA test recently,” I stated reclining back in my chair. “Something interesting happened.”
Silence. Air appeared frozen. I watched my hubby lose color. He knew. Oh, he knew.
Lisa’s fork clattered into her plate, her startled eyes roving between us. “What are you talking about?” She whispered as she stammered.
Smiled coldly at her. “You understand, Lisa.”
My spouse clenched his fingers over his drink but said nothing, his face ghostly. He realized he couldn’t talk out of this.
I rose up slowly, my pulse racing but my voice steely. “Pack your things,” I ordered, staring him in the eye. Get out. Keeping the house. Don’t fight me—I’ve consulted a lawyer.”
He opened his mouth but said nothing. He stared at me, then Lisa, his eyes widening with terror.
I continued. “Oh, and just so you know,” I said with delight, “I recorded this entire conversation. Not just for me, but to reveal your true self.”
He turned white to red, but I turned my back and entered the house before he could speak.
He disappeared within a week—no home, family, or reputation. Lisa? After being embarrassed, she left. Dylan? Felt for him. He was an innocent child caught in his parents’ deception. I could not punish his misdeeds. So I created a trust for him. One his father never touched.
His downfall wasn’t merely karma. It was I.
Last time I saw him drive away, I wasn’t sad. Felt no guilt. It was peaceful.
His final words to me?
“Taylor… How could?
I grinned. “How could I? Tell me.”
