Chapter Five
The Idiots

I could feel the tension rising in the room as I sat there, surrounded by my family, as they unleashed a torrent of foul-mouthed fury upon me, Joshua, Jonathan, and our cousins.

The reason for their outrage? A stupid drunk bet we made during my bachelor party back in 2014 - a bet that led us to donate sperm at a place called Xytex. At the time, it had seemed like a harmless, even amusing, prank. Little did we know the consequences that would reverberate through our lives years later.

As Lisa, my mother, screamed at us, her face flushed with anger, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of shame wash over me. "Now how many grandkids we got running around because you idiots decided to donate sperm!" she yelled, her voice dripping with disgust.

Beside her, my sister Summer shook her head in dismay, her expression one of pure disappointment.

"I can't believe y'all got drunk and decided to be the sperm fairy," Kayla added, her words laced with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation.

The rest of the family was no less forgiving. Reeva pinched Kayla's arm, while Tanya chuckled and remarked, "That was clever."

Solofa stepped forward and declared, "Now, we gotta hire a private investigator to find whoever used the donated sperms."

At this, Jonathan, ever the pragmatic one, spoke up, "Do we really need to go looking for the kids?" His question was met with a resounding chorus of "Yes!" from the entire family, each voice dripping with a mix of outrage, concern, and a strange sense of curiosity.

As I sat there, listening to the heated debate unfolding around me, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of unease. The ramifications of our foolish actions were becoming increasingly clear, and I knew that the fallout would be far-reaching. We had unwittingly set in motion a chain of events that would forever alter the lives of not just ourselves, but potentially countless others as well.

Lisa crossed her arms tighter, frustration etched on her face. "These are real lives we're talking about." Her tone shifted from disbelief to something more serious, and I could see the concern in her eyes.

"Yeah, but we don't even know if anyone actually used it!" I protested, though even I wasn't convinced by my own argument.

"Doesn't matter," Trinity chimed in. "You made the donation. It could've happened." She glanced at Jonathan, who looked just as lost as I felt. "We need to figure this out. Like, now."

Solofa leaned forward, his expression serious. "So what's the plan? Do we just sit here and wait for the inevitable knock on the door? We need to take action."

The thought of a private investigator made my stomach churn. It sounded like something out of a movie—an over-the-top drama. "Come on, do we really need to go that far?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"YES!" the family shouted again, the determination in their voices sending my anxiety levels soaring.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "We're talking about hiring someone to track down children that may or may not even exist."

"It's not ridiculous, Joe!" Lisa snapped. "This is serious. You could have kids who are living with some other family, completely unaware of who you are!"

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. The thought of children—my children—growing up without knowing anything about their biological father sent my mind spiraling. "What if they don't even want to know me?" I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

"Doesn't matter," Joshua said firmly. "You have a responsibility. We all do." His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Tatiana stepped closer, her expression softening slightly. "Look, Joe, whatever happens, we'll handle it together. You won't be alone in this." Her reassurance was comforting, but it did little to ease the dread pooling in my stomach.

"Okay, okay. Let's just take a breath here," I said, trying to regain control. "First things first—let's contact Xytex and find out if anyone actually used the donations."

The room quieted as everyone processed my suggestion. "That's a start," Solofa nodded. "We can go from there."

I took a deep breath and grabbed my phone, the weight of it feeling heavier than usual. Dialing the number for Xytex, I could feel my heart racing in my chest. This was it—the moment of truth.

"Xytex, how can I help you?" The receptionist's voice was professional and upbeat, a stark contrast to the turmoil in my mind.

"Uh, hi," I stammered, the nerves catching up to me. "I'm calling about a sperm donation I made... about ten years ago."

"Sure! Can I have your name and date of birth?" she asked.

I gave her the information, my heart pounding. As I waited, I glanced around at my family, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. It felt surreal—like I was about to unveil a massive secret.

After a brief hold, she returned with a friendly tone. "I see your records here. How can I assist you today?"

"I need to know if there have been any uses of my sperm donation. Specifically, if any children have been conceived from it," I blurted out, the words tumbling out before I could second-guess myself.

There was a pause on the other end, and I felt the tension in the room rise. "I'm sorry, but due to privacy policies, I can't disclose that information without proper authorization."

I felt a mix of frustration and defeat. "What kind of authorization?"

"You'd need to provide proof of your identity and fill out a request form for the records," she explained. "Once that's processed, we can check our database for any uses linked to your donation."

"Okay, how do I go about that?" I asked, taking mental notes.

She guided me through the process, and I felt a small sense of relief. At least we were making progress, however slow it felt. After hanging up, I turned to my family. "We'll need to fill out some forms and provide identification. It could take a while."

"Whatever it takes," Lisa said, the fire still present in her voice. "We can't just sit back and wait for something to happen."

"So what's next?" Jonathan asked, looking at me expectantly.

"Next, I'll get the forms, and then we'll all need to provide our IDs," I said. "It's just a step in the process."

The group began discussing logistics, and figuring out how to tackle the paperwork. I felt a mix of anxiety and anticipation as we worked together. This wasn't just about my potential children; it felt like we were all in this together.

As the conversations swirled around me, I couldn't shake the image of a child I didn't know—a child who might be out there because of a reckless night of drinking and a silly bet. The idea was daunting. Would they be anything like me? What if they hated me for not being there?

"Hey," Tatiana said softly, breaking through my thoughts. "You're going to be okay. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together."

Her words grounded me, but the fear still lingered. I had never considered the implications of my actions from that night, but here I was, staring down the barrel of responsibility.

Over the next few days, we worked to gather the necessary documents and filled out the forms for Xytex. Every signature felt heavy with meaning, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was signing away my ignorance.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we sent in the paperwork. I was a bundle of nerves as I waited for a response. The family remained supportive, but I could see the concern etched on their faces.

As days turned into weeks, I tried to distract myself. I threw myself into work and the routine of daily life, but the nagging worry always hovered just beneath the surface. The anticipation was killing me.

Then, one evening, just as I was about to sit down for dinner, my phone rang. I recognized the number immediately—Xytex. My heart raced as I answered.

"Hello, is this Joe?" the receptionist asked, her tone professional yet friendly.

"Yes, this is him," I replied, my voice shaking slightly.

"Thank you for your patience. We have processed your request and I have information regarding your donation."

I felt my stomach drop, the weight of her words hanging in the air. "What did you find?"

"According to our records, there has been only one use of your sperm donation," she explained. "You are listed as the biological father of one child conceived from your donation."

A wave of relief washed over me. "So... The daughter of Tatiana Arenas?"

"That's correct," she confirmed.

I closed my eyes, taking a moment to absorb the news. "Thank you," I finally said, my voice steadier now.

After hanging up, I took a deep breath, the tension leaving my body. I could hardly believe it. I rushed to find my family, heart pounding with excitement and relief.

"Guys, it's good news!" I exclaimed as I burst into the living room.

Everyone turned to me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and hope. "What is it?" Lisa asked, her voice laced with anticipation.

"Ocean is my only child from Xytex!" I shouted, the joy spilling out as I processed the weight of my words.

The room erupted in cheers, the tension that had hung over us for weeks dissipating like mist in the morning sun. Hugs and laughter filled the space as my family celebrated the news, the relief palpable in the air.

Tatiana stepped closer, a proud smile on her face. "Thank God."