Ships of My Fathers Read Online Free PDF Page A

that magistrate to pick someone else.”
    Isaac pulled up a chair on the other side of the coffee table. “Yeah, he called me, said something about you being adopted.”
    Michael waved a hand in dismissal. “Yeah, can you believe the guy? His paperwork is totally fucked.”
    Isaac shrugged. “Well, I have to say, it makes a lot of sense.”
    Michael paused and scrutinized Isaac for a moment. “What are you talking about?”
    “Well, I’ve known for a while Malcolm wasn’t your dad. I mean, not biologically.”
    Michael sat up again. “What the hell? Did Dad tell you something?”
    “No, of course not. I didn’t think it was my place to ask either.”
    “Then you don’t know what you’re talking about either, Isaac.”
    Isaac stared at him a moment and looked away. “It was the eyes, Michael. That’s what tipped me off at first.” He looked back to face him. “Yours are as blue as the Lateran oceans, but Malcolm’s were brown so dark, almost black.”
    Michael shook his head. “Dad always said I got Mom’s eyes, and that’s one of those recessive traits, so that doesn’t mean shit.”
    “I know,” he replied, nodding. “But it got me to thinking, so I pulled up the med files and checked your blood types.”
    Michael fidgeted. “So?”
    “So what’s your blood type?”
    “I’m type O.”
    “Yeah, type O-positive. And Malcolm?”
    Michael looked away, trying to remember. “He’s A… no, AB.”
    “That’s right, AB-negative.”
    “So, that’s another one of those recessive things. You’re still full of it.”
    Isaac shook his head. “You’re right. It is one of those recessive things, but not like that. An AB parent can’t have an O child. It just doesn’t work that way.”
    Michael started fidgeting in his seat, trying to escape further back through the sofa. “No, Isaac. You’ve got that wrong. It’s gotta be the other way. An O can’t have an AB, something like that.”
    Isaac frowned. “I’m sorry, Michael. I wasn’t sure at the time, but I looked it up in the medical texts — even asked a doctor at my physical last spring.”
    Michael got up and paced across the room to the kitchenette. He started the water running. He ran a wet hand across his face and through his short hair.
    “Hey, the adoption is actually a good thing,” Isaac continued. “I never really thought about it that way before. I had always thought maybe your mom... well, you know.”
    Michael turned off the water. “My mom what?”
    “Sorry man, I know it’s not my business.”
    “What?” Michael insisted.
    “I’ve seen the picture, Michael. A fine looking woman like that? I figured maybe she’d had something on the side.”
    “Fuck you, Isaac! That’s my mother you’re talking about, not one of Dad’s portside girls.”
    Isaac put up his hands and backed up a step. “No, Michael, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that it must not have been that, you know, with the adoption and all. I’m sure she was a good woman… a good mother.”
    Michael headed back out the door. “Fuck you, Isaac, and fuck Hollings too. You’re both full of shit!”

    Michael wanted to keep running, but he was exhausted. Instead, he wandered the port on foot, fuming and kicking at whatever loose debris he came across. He started getting sleepy around sunset. He knew he must be hungry since he had not had anything to eat since a light breakfast long ago, but he no longer cared.
    He found himself in front of Sophie’s locked hanger bay. He tried to twist the locking clip, but it held fast. He sat down on the ground, leaned into the corner of the door frame, and fell asleep.
    Around midnight he was woken by a security guard. She had stayed in her little pod and was shining a small spotlight at him. “Hey!” came the amplified voice. “You can’t sleep here. Move along.”
    Michael nodded and got up. His legs were stiff, his stomach rumbling and his head pounding. The sun-baked pavement had long ago given up