A young girl was seated alone in a plush café, talking into her friend through her smartphone. The friend was on speakerphone, and the girl, although clearly distressed, made no attempt to hide her conversations. The girl sobbed and wailed to her friend through a visible, public display of grief.

‘I’ll never know him. It’s like, I’ve got no Dad. I’ll never know who I am, d’ya know what I mean?’

‘Aww babes, that’s terrible,’ the girl echoed back on speakerphone. ‘All that time trying to get your birth certificate, now this.’

‘I dunno why Mam would do this to me. She knew how important it was to me to find my Dad, but it was like she didn’t care. I thought there would be something about him in her letters and personal stuff, but nothing. She must have known him surely?’

‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? I mean, she could have at least given you the names of people it could have been. Even a general description!’

‘I know. Now she’s passed I’ll never find out who he was or where he came from. It’s like a part of my identity is missing. Everyone should know their Dad shouldn’t they?’

‘That’s awful pet. It’s so sad.’

‘Anyway, I’m gonna go. Thanks for listening babes, you’re a real friend.’

‘No problem hunny. Catch you later. Take care. Bye.’

‘Bye.’

The line went dead and the girl stared into space with tears in her eyes.

Just then an elderly man approached her table. 

‘Excuse me, is this seat taken?’

‘No, not at all.’

The old man sat down on the seat opposite.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. If you don’t think I’m too rude, I’d like to help you.’

‘Help me, how?’

‘Well, I suppose you’d like to know what your Dad looked like?’

‘Yes of course, that would be amazing, but how would you know that? You’re a stranger. No one knows who he is!’

‘Ok, let me ask you. How much do you look like your Mum?’

‘Not much at all really.’

‘Well, there you have it. Your Dad almost certainly looked like a more masculine version of you, with a bit of your Mum thrown in for good measure.’ 

‘Well, yes I suppose he must, now you mention it.’

‘I’m sure there’s one of those clever apps on your phone that could do that for you.’

‘A gender swap app? Yes, I’ve heard of them.’

‘There you go, add a couple of decades on and that would give you a good idea of what he looked like. And you could even get your DNA tested to find out more about him. It would tell you what his dominant genes were and what his genetic predispositions were. That would tell you a lot, though you could work a lot of stuff yourself, I’m sure.’

‘How so?’

‘Well, you know a lot about you, and a lot about your Mum, so if x plus 2 = 5, then x must equal 3.’

The weight of the old man’s words was beginning to make sense to the young girl. 

‘You’re saying that I can work out if things about me come from my Mum or Dad, by taking away things that aren’t from my Mum?’

‘Precisely! Though it isn’t an exact science, it’ll give you a good idea. A DNA test would give you lots more concrete knowledge though.’

‘Yeah, but it still won’t tell me what kind of a person he was, though will it? How do I know he wasn’t a serial killer? Maybe that’s why Mum wouldn’t tell me anything about him. I want to know if I might be a bad person, you know, like, there’s something bad that’s inside of me.’

‘People aren’t born bad, pet, they are made bad. Poor upbringing, bad parenting, bad environment, that sort of stuff. Yes, genetics plays a part, but nothing that good nurturing and lots of love and understanding wouldn’t cure, given a chance.’

‘You don’t know that. Some people are just born bad.’‘

‘Spend some time with children under the age of three and tell me if any of them are evil and wicked.’

‘Hmmn, I’m not sure.’‘

‘Children are inherently good. They are born innocent and without sin. Trust me, young children are just magic and joyful.’

‘My friend’s daughter isn’t. She’s a nightmare. She’s always crying.’

‘Well, that’s the only way a baby can ask for what it needs. It doesn’t make it bad or evil.’

‘There’s plenty of spiteful, selfish, nasty kids around.’

‘As I’ve said, environment and parenting are largely responsible for that, with maybe a tiny little bit of genetics. From the moment they’re born, children are absorbing everything around them. Without the right care, they can learn bad things if you’re not careful. And there’s another thing. People don’t remember much at all before they’re four years old, so no one knows where half their traits and behaviours come from.’

‘Maybe. Anyway, I still don’t know if I’m the product of a violent, abusive act? You can’t know that from genes or behaviour.’ 

‘No, I don’t, but here’s the thing, you can never know the answer to that question, which means you are free to believe whatever you wish, so it makes sense to believe in a good version of him. You should always think the best in people.’ 

‘My friend says it’s better to be a pessimist. If you believe the worst in people, you’re never disappointed.’ 

‘When you have belief, you have hope. When you have hope, you have love. Believe the best in people and they rise to the challenge.’

‘And if they fail?’

‘Then you give them a big hug and tell them they’ll do better next time. Always have hope. And anyway, being positive makes you feel better about yourself. Why would you want to willingly make yourself miserable all the time?’

‘Yeah, that’s true, I suppose, but I’m still not sure this gives me the answers I’m looking for.’

‘If your Mum had been abused, she would have displayed signs of it. Ask yourself if she had any serious mental health issues.’

‘Nothing that stands out. She was a great Mum. She did everything for me even though there was only her.’

‘She never married or met anyone?’

‘No. It was quite weird that. I was always telling her to go on dates, but she never would. She always said she was happy with who she was and didn’t need anyone.’

‘Did she ever say anything about your Dad?’

‘Only that he was a good person and that I didn’t need to know more than that.’

‘Well, there you are then! Case solved.’

‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. Though I’m still processing it all. Thanks to you, I can work out what he looked like and find out stuff from my DNA. But yeah, he was probably just some boring bloke she had a one-night stand with when she was drunk.’

‘Remember what I said. You can make him into whatever you want him to be. He can be the most brilliant person you want him to be. No one can tell you you’re wrong, can they?’

‘No, I don’t suppose they can.’ 

‘Sometimes in life, you can’t always see where things come from. You don’t know who made them, or even why, but you can know them from the things they’ve made, and the way they’ve acted. This isn’t only true of your Dad, it’s true of everything, even the universe itself – even God!’

‘I’m not sure about that. When I look at the world, all I see is suffering, misery, and hate.’

‘You’re back to being that pessimist again. You find what you look for. If you only look for bad things, you’ll find them. But, just as I know the world is good, I know your Dad was a decent guy, because I see him in your eyes. Even if he made some bad choices, that wouldn’t make him a bad person. He made you, didn’t he? If that was the only good thing he did in his life, it was a damn good one.’ 

‘You’re really kind, thank you. You’ve really cheered me up. Hey, can I get you a cup of coffee? My treat?’

The girl reached down into her bag to find her purse. 

‘No, thanks, love. I’m going to get off now,’ the old man said as he got up to leave. ‘I’ve done what I came to do. You have a nice day now, and you remember what I taught you. Have faith and you’ll find hope.’

The girl was annoyed. She couldn’t find her damn purse anywhere in that huge bag of hers.

‘No, please wait. I wanted to get your name. Maybe we could…’

By the time she’d finished fumbling in her bag, the man was gone, and her words were left hanging in the air. She looked around her, but there was no sign of him. She rushed to the door and ran into the street. Again, there was no sign of him anywhere. Forlorn, she trudged back into the cafeteria and approached the barista who was clearing away the tables. 

‘Did you see that old guy I was talking to just now? Does he come in here a lot? He was such a lovely old guy. I wanted to find out his name, maybe stay in touch with him.’

The barista broke off from wiping the tables and looked back at her. 

‘Old guy? I dunno what you mean love. There was no old guy at your table. All I saw was you rabbiting away to yourself. I thought you were still on your phone.’

‘My phone? No. There was a sweet old guy sat here talking to me.’

‘I didn’t see no guy. What did he look like?’

The simple, innocent question shook her, because, try as she might, she couldn’t reconstruct his face at all. She didn’t know anything about him. Not his clothes, his hair, his eye colour, nothing came to mind. All she could think of was one word.

‘Love. That’s what he looked like. He looked like love.’

‘Not much love in this place, babe,’ the barista said nonchalantly, as she lifted a teetering tea-tray. ‘It’s a right dump. Take my advice and don’t go talking to yourself in public places, they’ll lock you up.’

The girl looked back at the barista and for the first time in her life, she understood what hope was. And what it wasn’t.

‘You know what? You’re wrong. This place isn’t a dump, it’s bloody brilliant. I am going to go for a nice walk and go put some flowers on my Mum’s grave.’

‘Yeah right. Whatever. I thought I heard you saying something about finding your Dad?’

‘That’s right, but I don’t need to look any longer. I believe I know who my Dad was now. I know exactly who he was, and he loves me so very much,’ she said cheerily as she left the coffee shop.