Bernard could look up his son discretely if he wanted to. He had his resources, his contacts. He could find out how the kid was doing in school, if he played sports, what he liked to do for fun. He could look him up, but he wouldn't.

Sometimes Bernard wondered about other things. Smaller things. What was his favorite color, what music did he listen to? What did he like to watch on TV, who was his idol, what was his favorite flavor of ice cream? Did he even like ice cream? It bothered him that he didn't know these things, even though there was nothing he could do about it.

He had seen Rosemary, the mother of his child, twice since they went their separate ways. The first was only briefly in the subway, and she had disappeared into the crowd before he could reach her. On their second encounter, she'd bumped into him while exiting a restaurant, nearly dropping her handbag in surprise. They had studied each other for a moment before Bernard had finally spoken up.

"So how are you?" he'd asked, genuinely curious. She'd looked off a bit to his right before answering him.

"Good. I'm real good. And James is doing fine, growing up so fast. I….um, here…." she murmured, digging through her wallet before producing a slightly crumpled photograph of their son.

He took it, holding the picture between two fingers, noting the round face and goofy smile.

"He looks more like you each day," she admitted, pursing her lips. Almost complimenting. "You can keep that, I guess. I've got to get going."

"Yeah, uh….thanks," he'd managed, tucking the photo carefully into his own wallet before looking up at her. She'd reached up to pat his shoulder briefly before moving past him.

"Good seeing you," he'd called out, watching her retreating form until she was gone. Going his own way, Bernard had smiled, fingers brushing over the wallet in his pocket. Perhaps James would come looking for him when he was old enough, wanting to meet his biological father. But for now, he was content to wait and wonder.