“What?”
“For my whole life, I never knew who my father was. Soleil, my mom, used to pretend that he lived out west somewhere or that maybe he was, like, a hero from an unnamed war who never came home.” I almost smiled, thinking about how Soleil used to pretend. “But then the whole nasty story came out last fall. Warren Wilde was high on painkillers and copped to an affair with Soleil.” I pointed to her name on his paper. “They had always known the truth but neither of them had thought to share it. So, I have a half-sister, Ellie, who’s the daughter of Warren’s actual wife. And yep, you’re reading that right: my mom and Ellie’s mom were sisters. Twisted, isn’t it? My dad had an affair with his sister-in-law. And I was the result.”
César’s mouth hung open a little.
“I would prefer that you keep it to yourself,” I told him. “No one else knows, and I don’t want to have to go around town acknowledging that son of a bitch as my father.”
“Sure. Ok,” he agreed. “I know Ellie Wilde. She helped me last season. I know her boyfriend well.” He shook his head in shock. “Damn, Warren Wilde is really your dad? He was the best player ever. I used to dream about him throwing to me—”
“Your parents are still married, I see.” I didn’t want to talk anymore about my family. “Do they get along?”
He nodded and smiled. “They love each other very much. My sister and I have made fun of them for years. But really, my whole family is close. My sister lives in Florida now with her husband and my parents and grandmother visit her a lot.” He thought. “You know, my grandma doesn’t speak a lot of English. Do you speak any Spanish?”
“I mean, I took it for three years in high school. I can probably ask her where the library is if I ever meet her.” I shrugged. “I wasn’t into school.” The football games, the dances, the parties—yes. The homework, the notetaking, and the studying? Not as much.
César nodded, reading the answers I’d written. “I can see that. You listed your favorite class as ‘lunch.’”
“I used love to eat almost anything.” I sighed, and pushed away my empty pasta plate. “How did you learn how to cook?”
“My father loves to be in the kitchen,” César said. “He taught us. We used to spend Sundays making a big meal and we’d sit around the table and talk for hours. Lots of aunts and uncles, cousins. We’re a big family, too.”
I had Ellie, and that was it. “I have a lot of friends,” I told him, feeling defensive again.
“Sure, great.” He looked at my paper. “Why did you leave the space for your address blank?” he asked.
“First, because you already know where I live, and I wasn’t aware that this was being graded,” I told him. And just like my real tests in school, I had skipped through and only answered what immediately came to me. “I also left it blank because I’m going to have to move soon.” I could almost hear Kaya’s howling sex with Denny as I thought about going back to the cottage. She had no concept of volume. “My future residence is still up in the air. What about you? When did you buy this place?” I asked him, gesturing to the kitchen.
“I rented it furnished when most of us on the offense decided to spend the winter in Michigan to keep practicing together. I wanted more space than the condo I was staying in. Usually, I go to Florida when the season is over because I do own a house there, near where my sister lives. But this year, I’m freezing my ass off instead of sitting on a beach. When does it start to get warm?” he asked me seriously.
“You have a few more months,” I said. “You’ll have to suck it up and invest in a better coat than what you had on today.”
“I like life better in shorts,” he explained.
“Do you enjoy frostbite, though?”
“No, so I guess a new coat is in my future. I’m not interested in freezing off my extremities. But there’s a lot to do here when the weather’s nicer. I keep a little boat at Davis Blake’s house to go sailing on the lake.” He looked thoughtfully at my stomach. “I wonder how small they make life jackets.”
“You think we’ll be sailing this summer?” I stared at him. “Wait, how much time do you think we’ll be spending together?”
“A lot of time. Of course, we’ll be together,” he said.
“We’re going to be together?” I asked. “What do you mean by that?”
“You and I won’t be together as a couple.” He shook his head hard, like “no way, no day” on that. “But we’ll have to spend time together as a…a unit. That way we’ll both get to raise the baby.”
I stood up. “I’m not making any promises about that, César. I have no idea what I’m going to do.” I put my dishes in his sink and grabbed my coat. “I’m going home.”
“What did I say that got you so upset?” he asked me. “Are you angry that you’ll have to be with me?”
No, it wasn’t that. I’d had another vision of the future, of me with a baby—not a black and white picture, a real human being. “Everything about this makes me upset! Nothing is ever going to be the same, and I don’t understand why you’re talking about a sailboat.”
“I’m trying to be practical,” he said quietly. “I can only take on what I can, like the questionnaire, like thinking about your diet. What else should I do?”
I shook my head, unsure of what I wanted, or why I was crying. Again, I was crying, and César could dispassionately discuss potassium and vitamin
