Diamonds in the Rough. Michelle Madow

voluntarily stayed home on a weekend night since middle school.

      “No,” she said. “But I need to talk with both of you.”

      “Oh.” Her mom pulled her long, dark braid over her shoulder and shared a worried look with her dad. “Okay.”

      They both seemed confused as they sat down in the living room, her mom on the armchair and her dad on the other end of the couch. Madison’s head pounded harder as she looked at them, and she massaged the back of her neck in a failed attempt to relieve the tension.

      “We did blood typing in genetics today.” She took the card out of her pocket—once it had dried, she’d laminated it to take home—and tossed it onto the coffee table. “This was my result.”

      Panic flashed in both of their eyes, and neither of them looked at her as her mom picked up the card.

      “AB positive.” Her mom’s voice shook, and she tugged on the end of her braid.

      “But those results are impossible.” Despite the tightening in her throat, Madison tried to remain calm. She’d learned early on that whenever someone raised their voice, they weren’t perceived as rational and were less likely to get the results or answers they desired. Right now she needed answers. “I remember watching TV a few years ago and Dad mentioning he was the universal donor, O negative. But it’s impossible for a child to have AB when one parent is O. The only scientifically possible blood types I could have are O, A or B, depending on Mom’s, of course. I did the test twice, because I figured I got a faulty card the first time, but it was the same both times. AB positive.”

      She watched her parents closely, waiting for an explanation. But her dad twiddled his thumbs and refused to meet her eyes, and her mom twirled her braid, her face pale. Madison’s stomach flipped, and she had to swallow down the pizza that was slowly rising up her throat.

      Her dad finally looked up at her, his kind brown eyes shining with guilt. “I wish you hadn’t found out this way.”

      “Found out what?” Her voice cracked. She couldn’t say what she was thinking out loud—she had to hear it from her parents.

      “Madison,” her dad said slowly, curling his hands into fists. “You know that, no matter what, I am your father, and I love you very much and nothing will ever change that, right?”

      “Right,” she said, although suddenly it became hard to breathe, and her head spun, the world feeling like it was crumbling around her.

      “But as you discovered today in genetics class, I’m not your biological father.” He let out a long breath, his eyes pained as he waited for her reaction.

      Madison blinked, a million questions running through her mind. It had been the answer she’d feared since doing the lab, but no imagining prepared her for hearing it said out loud.

      She closed her eyes and laced her fingers through her hair. “Am I adopted?” she finally asked. Although, looking at her mom, she didn’t see how that was possible. She looked so much like her mom, with her blue eyes, full dark hair and smooth tanned skin. And she didn’t look unlike her dad, either, with his dark hair and dark eyes. Sure, his skin had more of an olive undertone, his nose was larger and the possibility of inheriting blue eyes when brown eyes were dominant was slim, but she’d always assumed that for reasons of chance, she looked more like her mom than her dad. Plus, she’d seen baby pictures of her parents holding her in the hospital. How could she be adopted when they were there when she was born?

      “You’re not adopted,” her mom said. “I’m your biological mother. But I hope you understand that this changes nothing. Your dad loves you just as much as I do.”

      “What do you mean, ‘this changes nothing’?” Fire exploded through Madison’s veins, and she slammed her fists down on the couch. “How could this not change anything? You and Dad have been married for over twenty years! But I’m not his biological daughter, which means you cheated on him and got pregnant. Then for some reason he took you back and you both decided to keep this all from me, raise me as if none of that ever happened, and think I would be okay with that.” She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face in her knees and rocking back and forth. “This can’t be happening.”

      “I know it sounds bad.” Her mom reached for her hand, but Madison glared at her and pulled her arm away. Her mom flinched and brought her hand back to her lap. “But it’s much more complicated than that.”

      “You lied to me for my entire life.” She took a few shallow breaths, unable to get enough air, and tears rolled down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. She gave up trying and let them fall. Her dad handed her a tissue, and she blew her nose—it was a good thing no one but her parents could see her, because she must have looked a complete wreck. She focused on breathing steadily, and finally her lungs relaxed, and she was able to speak again. “No matter how ‘complicated’ it was, you chose to lie to me. Were you ever going to tell me the truth?”

      Her parents looked uncertainly at one another. Finally her mom turned to Madison, her eyes set in determination. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. You deserve the truth.”

      Madison used a clean tissue to dab away more tears and nodded for her to continue, bracing herself for more shock. No matter how hard it would be, she needed to hear this.

      “About seventeen years ago, your dad and I were both stressed from our medical residences,” her mom started, and Madison sat back to listen to the story, cradling the box of tissues to her side. “It was taking a toll on our marriage, so we separated for a few months to clear our heads and focus on our work. Your biological father and I had been friends since middle school, and during that time we…reconnected. That was when I got pregnant with you. But he already had a family, and soon after I found out I was pregnant, he found out he had another child on the way from his wife. I knew he wouldn’t want to mess that up. As you also know, your grandfather—my father—is traditional with his religious beliefs. I worried he wouldn’t fully accept a grandchild, especially a female grandchild, into the family out of wedlock. I feared he would never forgive me for having a child with a man who wasn’t my husband—that he would never look at me with respect again. I didn’t know what to do.

      “The first person I went to was your dad. He helped me get through it, we resolved our marriage, and moved back in together. When I told your biological father I was pregnant with you, and that your dad and I wanted to raise you as our own, he didn’t object, as long as he was still able to be a part of your life. His wife never knew his true relation to you. We made him your godfather, and he acted like one for the first year. He was involved as much as he could be, and you and your half sisters were around each other as much as possible, to ensure you would be close. But then something devastating happened to his family that tore them apart. He felt like it was his fault, so he made us swear to stay quiet about him. He had his reasons, and while it wasn’t easy for anyone involved, we had your best interests at heart.”

      “My biological father.” Madison shook her head, barely able to process everything her mom had told her. But there was one main question she needed answered. “Who is he?”

      Her mom set her lips in a line. “You have a dad who loves you and has been there for you throughout everything,” she said. “Your biological father stepped out of your life. He had his reasons, and while I’ll never understand how he can live with his decision, your dad and I promised him that we wouldn’t reveal his identity.”

      “You’re our daughter, and that’s all that matters,” her dad added.

      Madison stared hard at both of them. “If you don’t tell me who he is, I will never trust either of you again.”

      “He doesn’t want you to know,” her mom insisted, her eyes begging her to back down. “It’ll be easier for you if you don’t know.”

      “You can’t make that decision for me,” Madison said. “He’s my father, and I deserve to know who he is.”

      “I’m