“There can’t be more,” he tells me, and the hurt fills his eyes as the tears fall. “They just wrote off their flesh and blood.” He sits next to me, placing his hand on my knee. I know that it’s just to comfort me, but I didn’t know how much I needed his touch until then.

“I ignored your father and then finally got ahold of your brother.” I swallow now and look at the empty glass and wonder how crazy it would be to pour another one. My head is already starting to spin, and I don’t know how much more I can drink without blurting out everything.

Telling him that I love him isn’t something I want to do on the same night I share my biggest regret. I don’t regret Ethan for one single minute, and I never will. The only thing I regret is who the sperm donor was. I lean forward and put the glass down on the table, hoping he doesn’t remove his hand from my knee. “I found him the week after. He was coming into the country club, and I told him I needed to speak to him.” I close my eyes, ignoring the pain gripping my stomach as I think back to that day. “He looked at me like I was dirt.” I avoid his eyes, not ready for him to see that it still affects me.

For my whole life, I’ve been looked at like I was dirt. Either that or a charity case. Not once has someone or anyone looked at me as just another person. I was always talked about in whispers. “She’s the one who Mary Ellen feels sorry for.” I would hear that one a lot when I walked into school, and some of the other moms would see me. The pointing was always evident. I tried to ignore it and tried not to let it bother me, but I would always go quiet and not make eye contact. “She’s her daughter,” they would say of my mother. God, that one would get me every single time. I would have to blink away the tears so fast that sometimes they would sneak out, and I would suddenly have “allergies.” But my favorite has always been, “She’s the one who ruined everything.” That one has been at the top for the past eight years along with the finger-pointing, the rude stares, and the blatant hatred worn on their face.

“When I finally told him …” My hands start to shake. “He told me it could be anyone’s, and it can’t be his since it was only one time.”