I am the product of a one-night affair, though my mom often tells me I’m the apology for the mistake. A man named Ben Lincoln is my father. The Sperm Donor as my mom usually refers to him, and worse when she’s behind closed doors. Not that I can explain her bitterness. But Ben Lincoln is the name of the man that I share genes with. My mother is Kelli Ann Chase, and I am Ian Matthew Lincoln-Chase. Matthew, for Mom’s brother who became a solid source of support not long after I was produced.
I know from photographs that those first months of my life were spent moving. Mom packed us up and we left New Orleans. Whatever the reason, I’ve never asked her. Uncle Matt said it had something to do with Ben. That I’d understand when I was older. But anyway, we moved a few states away and took up residence with Uncle Matt in a small Nebraska town called Grand Island.
Growing up, it was mostly just me and my mom and Uncle Matt. He was really more like an older brother than a father figure, I guess because he felt like he’d be trying to measure up to some unknown quality. Not that he’d let me get away with much. Mom often worked two jobs, though one would have been plenty enough with Uncle Matt’s job. It didn’t ever seem strange to me, though I know Uncle Matt tried often enough to get her to quit one of them.
So, Dad — Ben — wasn’t in the picture at all. Never received a birthday card, nor any phone calls at Christmas. I can’t say I really missed him, I didn’t know him, and I didn’t meet him until I was a teenager.
But for me, this was normal, life with just my mom and my uncle. I guess I did have the occasional babysitter, nothing that really stands out as impressionable. Mom and Uncle Matt did what they could to get by without a sitter until I was old enough to stay home alone.
In school I was alright, a typical ‘A’s and B’s’ student, though I wasn’t anything special. I wasn’t a genius by any means, and worked just hard enough to get into some of the honors classes. Not really a discipline problem either. I guess it just came naturally to try not to draw attention or cause trouble since my mom worked all the time.
Wasn’t much into after school activities and would have been labeled a loner if not for getting into the boy scouts. That’s where I made most of my friends, what I spent the majority of my time on outside of school. There were four of us, a core group, who stayed with the program from cub scouts to Eagle Scout. We saw a number of other boys come in and leave after a year or three, but we stayed together to the end. I learned quite a bit as a scout, skills that continue to follow me and make themselves useful even today, the friendships I made. I still keep in touch with a couple of the guys from my old troop.
Hunting was really the only other thing I was into. Uncle Matt was an avid hunter. I was probably ten the first time he took me with him. He taught me how to track and follow a beast without giving myself away, and even more importantly he taught me how to shoot and use a firearm. It became an annual thing that I looked forward to until I graduated high school and moved away. Every year just after school began and the air was getting cold we’d go for a long weekend to hunt.
It’s hard to believe that I graduated high school six years ago. Harder to believe that the first time my dad — Ben — ever tried to make contact in my memory was the day after graduation. He saw it, watched me walk across the stage. The next day he came up and introduced himself, outside of a Starbucks. Told me how proud he was of me, if you can believe it. I didn’t and told him as much. Eighteen years and never a phone call or a card. Not even a postcard with just Hi written on the back of it. Can you blame me? I didn’t care to hear why he wasn’t around and I didn’t want to catch up with him. We parted without incident. I never told Mom or Uncle Matt about that day.
I left home a few weeks later to go to college. Mom had saved nearly every penny she earned from that second job to make sure I could go to a good school and pushed me to apply to some of the more prestigious institutions. It’s because of her, and for her, that I ended up going to Georgetown. I studied sci-tech and international affairs during my time there, graduated just a couple of years ago. I also managed to earn a placement in the National Clandestine Service Student Internship, program sponsored by the CIA, during my last two years of school.
It’s a paid internship, learned quite a bit, self defense and investigations skills. There’s a lot about it I can’t talk about, for obvious reasons, but it along with my degree helped me get a job in the cyber crimes department with the police once I’d graduated college.
Speaking of, Ben appeared for the second time in my life. I’m not sure if he’s just a glutton for punishment or if he was determined to force some kind of relationship between us. Whatever was going through his head at the time, it didn’t end well for either of us.
He had tracked me down to my apartment. It was late, graduation had commenced hours ago. Because of the hour I let him in. I might not care for the man, but I didn’t have to be rude about it. And maybe some smaller part of me wanted answers. The conversation began civilized enough and eventually deteriorated into an argument that was fast followed by a shoving match.
I couldn’t describe to you then what happened exactly, but I think I understood instinctively why my mom never wanted him around. The guy was some kind of mutant.
Without so much as lifting a finger, Ben slammed me into a wall and somehow held me there. I had no choice but to listen to him. He told me about his family, about his wife and daughter. About himself, this gift he had. He never tried to explain what happened between him and Mom, but I understood what he wasn’t saying in what he was. He couldn’t let a mistake like me show up on his doorstep and ruin the life he already had.
Once the old man had had his say, he let himself out. I wasn’t released from the wall until the door closed behind him. I haven’t heard from him since.
A couple of weeks after that encounter I had another strange visit. I came home from work to find two people in my apartment waiting to talk with me. How they got in is still a mystery, and I can’t say I did much talking. They knew what I knew, about those special people, and indulged me in more details. They desired my own abilities in tracking and surveillance. After all, hunting a man isn’t much different than tracking game. And rather than the sleep I sought I found myself brought into the fold of a rather secretive Company.
A year and some months has passed since then, and I’m slated for a new assignment. Through channels I don’t dare try to follow too carefully, I’ve been given a transfer and a new job offer. To the public, I’ll be working in computers for the Clark County School District in Las Vegas. To the rest, I’ll be in good Company.