While I was in a house with my father and my mother, my mother spoke about a centennial celebration which was supposed to take place soon. She indicated my father was 100 years old.
Birdie was living in the house where we were; she and I were married. I had become aware that Birdie, sleeping in the next room, was pregnant. I took my mother by the hand and we walked into the toilet to talk about Birdie's being pregnant. We had known about the pregnancy for quite a while, but my mother and I hadn't discussed it. I looked at my mother and said, "Since it is physically impossible for me to have a child, that means the child must belong to somebody else, and I need to know who's the father of the child."
My mother was alarmed. She realized that I had had a vasectomy and that I couldn't have children. My mother and I walked into the living room where Birdie was lying on the couch. I continued talking to my mother about my need to know as I walked toward Birdie. My mother felt sorry for Birdie.
Birdie suddenly woke up. I walked over, knelt down beside her and said, "Birdie, I need to know who's the father of the child. Is it my father, or is it your brother or who is it?"
She lay there frozen; it appeared she wasn't going to tell me who the actual father was. I told her I still cared very much for her and I wouldn't hurt her. But I needed to know who the father of the child was.
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