I got up from bed, went to my gym which I had not visited for days and spent about twenty minutes exercising. Later, I had my bath, had my breakfast and then had my driver take me to town.
We found ourselves at Glo Estate. It was a well-planned upper class area of residencies and offices. Some of the crème de la crème of the society had their homes or offices here. At Number 6, Lollipop Avenue, we stopped. I got out and walked to the gate while John stayed put in the car.
I rang the bell and was startled when a voice asked me who I was and who I was looking for.
“I am Dr. Ofori-Mensah and I am looking for Mr. Oscar Brew. I want him to handle a case for me” I said. A few seconds later, the voice, through the phone at the gate, asked me to open the gate and enter.
I pushed the small gate backwards. It opened. I stepped into a beautiful yard of very green grass and flowers of all hues. I walked up to the front-door. I turned the handle. It opened. I stepped in and found myself in a corridor.
“This way, sir,” a lady who suddenly appeared from nowhere told me. I followed her up the stairs to another room. She offered me a seat while she stood waiting. After about three minutes, she pointed to a door and asked me to open and enter. I did.
“Welcome Dr. Ofori-Mensah. Are you the Dr. Ofori-Mensah of Mother & Child Hospital at South Ridge?” he asked me.
“I am, sir” I replied. He had obviously run a check on me. I took a seat.
“Welcome, sir. I am Oscar Brew. My friends call me OB. How may I help you?” he asked. I thanked him and within five minutes, narrated to him everything that had happened concerning my wife, ending with my decision to change lawyers.
He did not stir or show any emotion as he listened to me. His eyes bore into me as if he was trying to determine whether I was lying or telling the truth as I talked.
Oscar Brew was one of the city’s top attorneys. He was noted to be expensive but delivers to the satisfaction of his customers. He was also noted to have handled very high profile cases and gotten quite a number of suspected murderers off the hook.
A tall slim looking man, he was in his mid-sixties and greying. Everything about him indicated he was well to do.
“Your entire cost is $50,000. You will make a deposit of $35,000. As soon as you do that, I will take over the case” he said, neither smiling nor frowning.
I had come prepared. For my children, I would go any length. I took out my cheque and wrote an amount of $35,000 for him. He stared at the cheque for a while after collecting it. Then he said we were in business. He called in the woman who had brought me in and asked her to take me to see another person.
A few minutes later, I was seated in front of a fat looking man. He looked like a man who was perpetually happy. An identification tag on his table identified him as Kwabena T. Torto. He was the junior partner in the law firm. He made me write down all that had transpired, from the day I caught my wife in bed with my best friend to the day the court declared I was not the biological father of my children.
“Okay. Thank you. Tomorrow, you will meet me at Accra General Hospital. You will be undergoing tests to determine if you can father a child or not” he said. I stared at him,


“I must undergo a test to determine whether I can father a child?” I asked him.
“Yes. The first thing we need to prove in court is that you a capable of fathering a child. And, it is not about belief; it is about evidence” he replied, not at all bothered by the fact that I was surprise at what he had said.
Painful though it was, I reasoned that what he was saying made sense. If I prove to the court that I was capable of fathering a child, my appeal will make sense. Why would a woman claim her husband is not the biological father of their children when that father is very fertile and able to father children? But, for me, that may not end the issue in my favour. So, I questioned the lawyer further.
“But if the test proves that I could father a child, how can it disprove the DNA result that I was not the father of my children?” I asked him. He smiled at me and asked me to leave that aspect to his senior partner. He seemed to be very confident that we will win the case with ease.
I left the law chambers satisfied that I had come to the right place. I could sense victory ahead; I was going to have my children back!
The next morning, I was at the Accra General Hospital before 9am. Kwabena T. Torto arrived a few minutes after. Together, we met the doctor on duty, Harry Adu, who conducted the test on me. He then asked me to come for the results in the evening. Mr. Torto and I subsequently left the hospital to return in the evening.
I went back home to sleep but, I could not. I could not watch TV, read or even phone somebody to chat with either. I was restless. I wanted the case over and done with. As for the test I had no doubt that I was fertile and able to father a baby.
At 2:00pm, Efe came to tell me I had a visitor. When I asked who it was, she said it was my lawyer. I went to the living room expecting to see Mr. Torto only to find that it was, Carl Lomotey, my lawyer whom I had discarded after he expressed doubt that I was the biological father of my children, Peter and Pamela.
He smiled at me when he saw me. I did not return the smile. Rather, I told him to leave immediately. I said it quietly but the threat in my voice made him recoil. Quickly, he backed out of the house, got into his car which he had parked outside the gates and drove away. I sighed in relief.
By 5:30pm, I was back at the hospital and found to my surprise that Kwabena T. Torto was already there. I nearly screamed out more in fright than anger when the doctor came out to give us the result of the test; it said I was not fertile enough to father a child.
“How? How? Why? I mean what…why…how can I not father a child?…how am I not fertile…?” I asked. The doctor sympathized with me but said that was what the result of the test showed.
I was totally devastated. I sunk to my knees in shock. The doctor and KwabenaTorto had to support me back to the car. At the entrance of the hospital before we will get to the car park, we bumped into Kweku, my estranged wife’s brother. He stared at me in surprise and came to us.
“What is it? I hope everything is alright” he said. The sight of him gave me strength.
“Do not come close to me!! Get out of my sight!!!” I screamed at him. He backed away, terrified by my anger. But for Torto and the doctor, I am sure I would have slapped Nana Kweku. He left us quickly, entering the hospital. I decided to walk the rest of the way to my car without any assistance.
John had the engine of the car running by the time I got to it. Once I was seated, he drove away without a word. I asked him to pass through the Pink Lady restaurant where I bought food for three. But he did not see me buy a full bottle of German-made Vodka.
When we got home, I went in-doors and began to drink. The revelation that I was sterile and could not father a baby was too much for me. The result, indeed confirmed the DNA test that I was not the biological father of Peter and Pamela.
Within twenty minutes, I had consumed a quarter of drink and was already drunk. As I drank, I wept. I could see my world coming to crush down. Now, it was clear, at least for all the tests that had been conducted, that I was not the biological father of my children. I began to contemplate suicide.


Watch out for episode 22
A FATHERS PAIN - EPISODE 20&21 A FATHERS PAIN - EPISODE 20&21 Reviewed by Morenikeji on 4/07/2017 06:13:00 pm Rating: 5

No comments