Back in My Hometown: The Unexpected Truth Behind My Friends’ Stares at My Son

I was confident about my son’s origins, having chosen to become a single mother through sperm donation after my breakup with my ex. But when we visited my hometown, an uneasy feeling washed over me as old friends stared at him with peculiar expressions.

When I made the decision that I wanted a child, my divorce papers weren’t even cold. Not a boyfriend, not a husband. I only have a little human to call my own.

The way forward was apparent once my ex, Ethan, sought to separate and made it clear he would never want children. I would still have children. even if I were alone.

“You’re seriously going through with this?” Olivia, my buddy, asked as she watched me look through donor profiles from her seat on my couch. “Girl, you’re only 28.”

“And getting older by the minute.” I browsed through a different profile. “Plus, the right donor could pop up any day.”

She snorted, “The right donor,” “As if picking the father of your child is like online shopping.”

“Better than my dating history,” I muttered, wiping my eyes and shutting off my laptop. “These guys are at least checked for criminal histories and hereditary illnesses beforehand. For my ex, more than I can say.

Olivia nodded and gave me a can of Pepsi. “Fair point,” she said. “How about love, though? Do you not want a father for your child?

“I’ll be theirs. That’s sufficient.

I recalled Ethan’s expression when I had brought up children as I took a sip of my Coke. He had flinched away as if I had proposed that we relocate to Mars.

“Besides, plenty of kids grow up happy with single parents.”

Each night, I found myself scrolling through the sperm bank’s website. Brown hair, six-foot-two, a medical degree—I sifted through profiles as if designing my perfect partner. Except this time, the connection wasn’t about romance but genetics. No messy breakups, no disappointments, no more Ethans. Just a sterile specimen cup holding the promise of new life.

Jude, who has always been my best buddy, helped me through everything. I even had his aid packing when I made the decision to transfer states in search of a new beginning.

“Connecticut?” His brow furrowed with worry, he taped another box closed. “That’s practically Canada.”

“My mother grew up there. She cherished her time there. It may be pleasant. I truly need a fresh start, even though my family would be far away. I used bold Sharpie strokes to write “Kitchen – Fragile” on the box’s label.

He started tinkering with the packing tape and said, “Yeah, but…” “What if you require assistance? “With the infant?”

I replied with a grin, “That’s what babysitters are here for,” playfully nudging his shoulder. “Relax, you’re overthinking it.”
One of the highlights of my life was Jude, who came up with the concept for my departure party. In contrast to Olivia, who still had a wild side, he was steady and grounded. But I loved her too.

In retrospect, though, I should have realized that I shouldn’t have allowed her to mix the cocktails. Fortunately, Jude stayed close as the night shifted from tears to laughing.

He carefully guided me to ensure I didn’t accidentally knock over my farewell cake.

Olivia muttered, “I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” as she gave me her tenth embrace. “Who’s gonna be my Netflix Wednesday buddy?”

I reaffirmed, “FaceTime exists for a reason,” as I supported myself on Jude’s kitchen counter. At some point the room had begun to spin.

Jude later walked me to my door and said, “Make a vow that you won’t forget us little people when you’re living your fancy upstate life.” I was suddenly aware of how safe and warm his arm felt around my waist.

Thus, I continue to have dreams about what transpired next.

I underwent the insemination process the following week and departed Atlanta.

After nine months, Alan screamed into the world, looking flawless and flushed. Something deep within me was pierced by his first cry, which revealed a love I was unaware existed.

After eight years, despite the exhaustion, I realized that motherhood was my calling. My son developed into a bright, witty youngster who laughed at his own jokes and asked too many questions.

Life was easy and nice. Our small two-person family felt whole. After then, I had to return since my mom became ill.

“We’re moving to Atlanta for a while,” I informed Alan while we were eating pizza. As usual his face was coated with sauce. “Remember where Mommy grew up?”

He was thrilled with the adventure and handled it better than he had anticipated. “Will I get to meet your old friends?”

I answered, “Sure will, buddy,” and used a napkin to wipe his face. “And Grandma needs our help for some time.”

“Calm down. Can I eat all of your crust?

I only intended to stay long enough to assist Mom in her recuperation. But as we strolled down those well-known streets, something changed.

Alan needed a family and roots. Not just me. In addition, I was unaware that I had gone because of all that had transpired with Ethan.

I had fled away from the memories of my broken relationship, but now that I was back, it dawned on me that perhaps it was time to return to my actual home.

However, an odd thing started to happen. whispers. The grocery shop was where they began. When she spotted Alan, Mrs. Henderson, who had been working the same register for years, dropped her scanner.

She muttered, “Oh my word,” as her hand shot to her lips. “Is this your…”

“My son, Alan.” I gave him a shove. “Say hi, sweetie.”

Alan muttered, “Hi,” feeling suddenly bashful. “Your store has good popsicles.”

She continued to look at him as if he had developed a second head, and she wasn’t alone.

Reactions were similar throughout the week. When our former classmates saw us, they would look twice and then quickly leave in whispers.

When we passed Michael in the park, my old lab colleague actually stumbled over his own feet.

Alan remarked, “Your friends are weird, Mom,” following yet another uncomfortable interaction. “They look at me funny.”

“Honey, they’re small-town people. They simply aren’t accustomed to meeting new people.

He self-consciously wiped his cheek and inquired, “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, sweetheart. You are flawless in your current state.

However, there was a problem. I was getting annoyed by the looks and the surprised looks. However, as my mother required more and more care, I forgot about it.

The summer festival followed. I brought Alan there, and we both relished the aroma of grilled corn and cotton candy. We had relocated to Atlanta at the beginning of the summer, so Alan hadn’t had time to establish friends, which was simpler at school, and I felt horrible for him.

“Amelia?” I was interrupted by a voice I recognized. “Is that really you?”

Jude was standing there. Even though he appeared older, his crooked smile remained. But as soon as I noticed her wedding ring, which caught and reflected the sunlight, I knew that a stunning, stylish woman was holding his arm.

In any case, I returned my attention to my friend. He had been lucky with time. He was unmistakably Jude, despite the laugh lines around his eyes and a few gray hairs at his temples.

“Jude, hey!” I tried to sound informal, but my heart was thumping. Eleanor must be here. I’ve heard a lot about you from friends we share.

After exchanging the usual niceties, my friend’s interested gaze quickly shifted to Alan, who was tearing into a corn dog.

I said, “This is Alan,” with greater ease. “My son.”

Jude appeared as though he had seen a ghost, and Eleanor grinned warmly but grimaced.

It dawned on me then: Alan’s messy brown locks, the way his nose wrinkled when he laughed, the way he tilted one hip when standing… At that age, he was exactly like Jude.

Why hadn’t I noticed it earlier?

“How…” Jude’s voice broke. “How old is he?”

“Eight,” I replied, still in shock at the insight. Naturally, he was aware of that number because I had the operation here just before I left.

However, it had happened following Olivia’s heavy drinking and my farewell party.

“Mom, can I get another corn dog?” Unaware of the explosion that had just exploded in our small circle, Alan pulled at my sleeve. “Will you please? I swear to eat my veggies for supper.

“Sure, hon.”

Eleanor gave Jude a little squeeze on the arm before leaving to grab drinks.

Jude remarked, “We need to talk,” while continuing to look at Alan as if he were attempting to commit every aspect to memory.

“Yeah,” I replied, as my son sprint towards the corn dog stand. The June breeze caused his hair, which had Jude’s curls, to bounce. “I guess we do.”

“Does he…” Jude took a deep breath. “I mean, have you told him about his father?”

“He thinks it was a donor,” I said, shaking my head. I had the same thought. “I never imagined… I mean, the timing…”

“The party,” Jude remarked as he combed his hair. “Oh, Amelia. Why didn’t you give me a call?

“I promise I had no idea. Actually, I didn’t. The week following that, I followed my plan and completed the operation. When he was born, I simply thought… After that, I was preoccupied with getting used to my new surroundings, which is why, as a mother, everyone has been staring at him amusingly.

I grinned as Alan’s laughter reverberated throughout the festival grounds.

Jude and I then almost instantly decided that we should obtain a test to be sure. After the results, we would work out the remainder.

We reviewed it, and in two weeks the answers will be sent. If the paternity tests came back positive, I knew Jude would want to be a part of Alan’s life, and perhaps that was a good thing.

Because Jude had consistently been the decent person, the responsible one, and the reliable friend. He would want to be a father to his son, of course. I wasn’t sure if his wife would approve of it.

In any event, it appeared like my well-planned existence as a single mother was about to change once more, and this time, I wasn’t fleeing.

The best stories are sometimes the ones we never intended to write.