I Am The Trustee In Their Marriage Secret

When I was about ten, my mother brought me to a man's house and told me to wait outside. I saw some kids playing football and after what seemed like a lifetime of waiting for my mom, I went to them and even made a friend. In the end, my mom left with the man, who caressed my cheeks and handed me some money.

This was just one of the many times I went to that house. Sometimes I remained in the hallway, other times they sent me on extremely long errands. I didn't mind being there because that man would always give me money or give me something nice and tasty.

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Mom loved me the most because I was the oldest of the four kids. Usually, the youngest gets all the love, but that was not the case with me. I could not be scolded by my dad for he always got mad at me but my mom would always cover me up. What would come out as frustration for the other kids, would bring mom's love for me.

My dad could see that my mom was very protective of me, thus he kept a close watch on me and he himself was the one to deal with my wrongdoings.

After several years, when I was in junior high school, that man died. I was not told about it, but I could see his posters on walls and houses. When I told my mom what I had seen, she laughed and turned away, but then I noticed her eyes were red. I was little, but I understood what it meant.

We all grew up, all the four of us. Father would make great efforts to give us a quality education proportionate to our school performance. The least enlightened one among us passed the teacher training college.

When my father passed on, we did his burial as per our financial capability. It was our way of honoring him since he had all the love and care of which he was capable for us. Three years ago, when my mother died, she would always tell me to come back home. “Come over, ooo. One day I will die, and you will not know what I feel about you in my heart.”

I thought of it as mental manipulation to make me come and visit. Even during the time I was living with her, she hardly spoke. Just before her death, she asked me, “Do you remember that man whose posters you saw on the wall when you were a kid?”

There were many memories gone from my mind, but the images of those posters were still vivid. I inquired, “What about him?” She told me, “I thought you had forgotten. Just asking.” She talked about all the people that died in that period including my grandparents, and it was very hard for her. Even when I was asking her very specific questions, she brushed them aside and was narrating about the dead.

Later on, I took that moment with me for a long time, pondering if she was trying to send a message but did not have the guts to speak it.

I chose to take a DNA test with the samples of my youngest brother. We have different ‘siblingship index’ that doesn’t match. We are half-siblings. My dad was not my real father actually.

My perception of my mother’s memory has altered since then. I no longer think that I love her the way I was once convinced I did. In addition to deceiving my dad, she also took my opportunity to know my real father. As of now, I have no clue on how to trace him or if he sired other kids.

Due to my mother, I have completely severed ties with my father's family. In addition, she made me suffer from intense trust issues. I can still picture my father adoring her and doing all he could for us. I can still see my mother playing the role of the perfect wife, supporting my father through thick and thin, standing by him until his last breath. What could have apparently driven her to betray him, and even draw the affair out while I was already born?

It gives me the impression that love is a gamble every time. By the looks of things, everybody has a secret to keep. I am the father of two kids, and I did a secret test on them. They belong to me. Still, despite this certainty, I cannot help but look my wife with distrustful eyes. I don’t think I would ever change this perception until the very end of my life. This is a secret no one knows—my siblings included. We continue to live life as if nothing is amiss.

—Oman

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