“Jessica,” Kyle repeats patiently. “She has a three-year-old son.”
Just when I thought I had gotten all the surprises I could stand, Kyle drops this on me. I just stare at him, not sure what to say.
Because what am I possibly sup
posed to say to something like that?
I sit on the bench and watch Kyle and Ethan competing fiercely. They’ve managed to persuade one of the staff members to put the bumper bars up for Kyle (Ethan thoroughly embarrassed Kyle in front of the guy, who couldn’t help but laugh with Ethan), and they’re more evenly matched now, even if Kyle does make most of his shots by bumping the ball off the bars.
They asked me if I wanted another game, but I declined for now. I’ve got too many thoughts in my head.
The main one being around Jessica’s three-year-old son.
The longer I sit there, though, the easier it becomes for me to figure it out. Jessica must have been pregnant just before we broke up. Then there was her cagey behavior right before that. On top of that, we had barely had sex just before she left. Hadn’t I thought she was keeping secrets?
My mind clouds over. There’s only one possible answer that would explain the secrets, her sudden aversion to being touched by me, and the way she eventually disappeared on me.
Jessica cheated on me. And the boy is the son of whoever she cheated with.
The thought makes me angrier than I want to be. But all the pieces are slotting together now. Didn’t I wonder, over and over, what happened? There were times when I wondered what I could have possibly done that was so wrong.
But if Jessica cheated, then everything makes sense. She left me because she was carrying another man’s baby, and she didn’t want me knowing. Maybe part of her even felt ashamed, which is why she broke up with me so suddenly, no longer able to bear the double life she was leading.
I clench my hands on my knees. I can’t feel any sympathy for Jessica. She’s the one that cheated on me. She’s the one that left me to agonize for three years about what I’d done, when she knew full well that it was her own actions that caused our breakup.
What am I supposed to do now, though?
Maybe I need confirmation. At the moment, this is all speculation. I need to be sure before I call back up.
I need to talk to Jessica.
But how? I don’t have her number. I don’t know where she lives. How can I get in contact with her? It would take a miracle.
Or, I realize, eyeing a certain phone that got left behind. I can just find someone to help me find her. And I know who.
“Hey, Kyle, can I borrow your phone?” I call.
“Sure,” Kyle says, concentrating on his next throw.
I pick up the phone. It’s not locked, and I resolve to have a discussion about phone security with Kyle once all this over. I quickly find Allison’s number, and I save it to my own contacts. Once done, I put Kyle’s phone back on the tablet and call Allison.
“Hello?” she says pleasantly.
“Allison,” I say. My throat feels strangely dry. “I need your help. It’s Grant Johnson.”
“Grant!” Allison says, sounding delighted. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” I say non-committedly. “Hey, do you know where Jessica lives? The two of us need to talk.”
“Ha!” Allison says, sounding pleased. “I knew she was hiding something. Something did happen between the two of you!”
“Yeah,” I admit, knowing that it’s the only way I’ll get the information I want. “So, is it okay if I get her address…?”
“Sure,” Allison says. She rattles off an address, though she has to do it a second time when I can’t find anything to write with quick enough. I find a pen and a pad of paper at one of the tables, crossing off the scores someone had started to note on it, and I write the address down quickly. “Go get her, Grant!”