I Kissed The Boy Next Door Page 7

  I knew that, and I’d been practicing what to say. My best bet, I figured was to be related. I wanted to say I was Jackson’s sister, but that seemed wrong.

  Tray wrote the hospital’s number on a sticky note. “If that’s not the one, you’ll have to try another.” He handed me the note. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  I was sure. Jackson wanted to know the truth; he deserved to know the truth, and I was the only one able to find out what that was.

  “Don’t dissolve,” I said as I left the room. I went into the living room, thinking if Jackson saw me enter my bedroom, he’d call or text, and dialed the number.

  I was put through an operator to a desk clerk. “Maternity,” I said. There was this very peaceful, sleepy on-hold music playing in my ear until a voice answered the phone.

  “Hello,” I said, “I’m looking for my older sister. She had a baby, a little boy. Her last name is Phillips.”

  I didn’t know her first name to include it and saying “Missus” would clue them in to my deception.

  “Phillips … yes, that’s what I said. You … you don’t have anyone with the last name Phillips? Well, let me ask you, she might have been released recent. We don’t talk much, you know how that is, with distance and stuff.”

  There was some clicking and clacking on the other end. The voice returned saying, “No, no one by that last name.”

  “Well, let me ask it this way. She was Caucasian, middle-aged, but her baby was black.”

  Nothing. Discouraged, I hung up and went back into Tray’s room.

  “Failure. Or they’re not telling me.”

  “Well, did you think they would?” he said. He called up the screen. “Maybe you’re going about this all wrong. Maybe you should look for his mother.”

  “But what if she’s not going by her married name now? And San Antonio is a big city. There’s probably lots of Phillips.”

  He flipped over on his bed. “You’re simply going to have to have more information.”

  More information. Information I couldn’t ask for. I mean, maybe I could find out his mother’s first name, but I could never ask her maiden name or what hospital the baby was at.

  Then an idea lit in my head. It was crazy stupid. It was like the biggest dare ever, one of those that will get you in a load of trouble if you do it. Thinking about it my heart began to race and my fingers sweat.

  “I’ll get back with you,” I said. No way was I telling Tray my idea.

  I went to my bedroom and sitting on the mattress stared at Jackson’s window. Should I? Because no one was pushing me this time, and no one would applaud. It’d get me no attention. In fact, it might get me in a whole wad of trouble and upset Jackson.

  I picked up my phone and set the alarm. Two a.m. I’d wait until Jackson was asleep and then I’d sneak in.

  CHAPTER 14

  This was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

  Sneaking in to wake Jackson up was one thing. Sneaking in to use his cell phone was another, and I didn’t even know if his mom’s number would be on his phone. I did know he’d miss it in the morning and flip out, so my plan was to get the number and leave it behind. I figured that was not stealing but more borrowing. And I had to do all of that without waking him up.

  Two a.m. rolled around a lot quicker than I thought it would, and though I’d climbed out my window the other night to see the meteors and climbed in his window to wake him up, this felt way different.

  I looked like a burglar wearing blue jeans and a black shirt and crouching over to run across the space between us. Even more when I slipped his window open and hauled myself in – no easy feat to do on my own. He was on his stomach, his head laying to the side and one arm dangling off the mattress. He, of course, had no shirt on, so I could see his back real plain, and that distracted me from finding his phone.

  He’d sat it on the bedside table, but not the one convenient to me. That’s how these things always go. The task is that much harder than it would be if things lined up for once. So I eyed how to get around that side of his bed without yanking the covers because they were sliding off.

  In the end, I sort of crawled on my hands and knees, going real slow to not make a noise. I arrived at the table in a short amount of time and took his phone into my hand. Then I eyed him because the minute I touched it, it’d light up the room. I stuck my hand beneath the bed. This made it hard to see the phone’s screen, but dimmed the light where it wouldn’t shine in his face.

  The minute I touched the screen, he shifted. He flipped onto his back and the bed covers slipped down below his waist. Man oh man, that was a sight, and again, I was distracted.

  It crossed my mind that I’d lost my mind completely to be there doing this, and I argued with myself. Maybe I should leave off. Maybe this was none of my business. Maybe he’d work things out with his mom without me. But how much time would pass before that happened and where would his little brother be by then? I’d save him a load of pain by finding out because he wasn’t going to do it.

  These were all the things running through my head. In the end, I saw I was there, had his phone in my hand, and should get the number and go, then fight with my conscience.

  He turned his face my direction, and I had the strongest desire to touch him. He was breathing real deep and quiet. I counted the seconds between breaths and was amazed anyone could sleep and breathe like that. It made me dizzy trying. I stretched out my hand across the mattress, stopping an inch before his face, where I could feel it, warm air puffing outward.

  And it was weird because I had this grown-up moment. I thought about being married to him and what it’d be like to lay there at his side. That made me think about his parents and how they’d split up, and it seemed even more painful. I could feel it somehow down in my gut, the ripping of two hearts apart that had been close once.

  I gazed down at the phone and flipped through the contacts. He had a lot of names I didn’t recognize. I found his dad and his sister. And me. Owen. I scrolled through twice because I had to have missed it. He would have his mom’s number. Right?

  Right. Because he did, and there it was. I was so nervous, my fingers trembling, and that made it hard to transfer the number to my own phone. I fumbled through it, then took one last look at him, kind of wistful, before sitting the phone on the nightstand.

  That’s when things got nervy. He shifted in bed, his hand stretching out before me and his leg blocking my retreat. He must have been dreaming because he was twitching, mumbling beneath his breath.

  I had to get out of there. Fast. I stuck the phone back on the nightstand and contemplated my exit. I ended up crawling beneath his leg, which was uncomfortable. I crept toward the window, but as I touched the sill, he shifted again, and I swear I thought he was awake.

  I pretended he wasn’t, hooking my leg over the edge and dropping to the ground. I couldn’t get inside my room quick enough, and I didn’t dare look back.

  ***

  Jackson sat up in bed in time to see the fleeting image of Lucy’s hair go over the window ledge. Lucy? He blinked and rubbed his eyes, then scooted to the edge of the bed.

  Sure enough, she was crossing the space between their rooms, running like she was hiding. She pulled herself up the side of her house and fell into her room, disappearing inside.

  What was she doing? Why did she come in here and leave?

  What time was it anyway? He switched sides of his bed and reached for his phone, and he startled. His phone. Not where he’d left it. He glanced back at the open window. She hadn’t bothered to close it in her escape. What was she doing on his phone?

  He tapped the screen and noted the time. Two fifteen. What was going through Lucy’s pretty little head at two fifteen a.m.?

  He looked down at himself and fell back on the bed. The dream he’d been having returned in his head. He was with his mom, and she was telling him about his little brother, how everything was all right, and how she loved him and his sister as much as she ever had
. Then he’d seen his little brother, and it’d been so peaceful.

  If only that’s how things were. However, the truth was she didn’t need them. Lucy was right. His mom and his dad had grown apart, not keeping the love alive between them. And with it dead, she’d turned to someone else to find that feeling again.

  But that didn’t make what she did right, only make sense.

  She’d brought him up to act better. What happened to all those church sermons, all the Bible Scriptures they’d heard preached? What of the time the Fuselli’s went through something similar? Mr. Fuselli had an affair, and his mom had said how awful it was, how she couldn’t ever live like that and put up with what Mrs. Fuselli had.

  The pot calling the kettle black because she’d gone and done the same thing, then lied to his dad and given her son away. But––

  His gaze wandered out the window to the bedroom on the opposite side. But if not for all of this, he wouldn’t have Lucy, and Lucy was the best thing to ever happen to him.

  “What were you up to?” he said out loud.

  CHAPTER 15

  Jackson didn’t wake me up. He didn’t text or call. He didn’t knock on the window. He didn’t climb through the window and shake me awake.

  He didn’t show up for breakfast either. In fact, come noon, I hadn’t seen neither hide nor hair of him, and that added to the beating my conscience was taking from my actions during the night.

  Should I call his mom? Should I not? Was this any of my business?

  Come twelve thirty, I couldn’t stand it anymore and crawled off into a corner of the living room to make the phone call. The line on the other end rang and rang, and a woman picked up. I said, “Hello,” not able to think much beyond that, then figured I should find out if the woman was, in fact, his mom.

  “Is this Jackson’s mother?” I asked.

  The woman said she was.

  “My name is Lucy McKinsey. I live next door … to him … now.” I kept adding in facts to help it make sense. “He … he doesn’t know I’m calling you, and I’m thinking he might be mad at me after. But …”

  “McKinsey?” she said suddenly. “Lucy McKinsey the girl he’s had a crush on for three years? That Lucy McKinsey?”

  Well, that near shook me out of my chair. Jackson had a crush on me for three years? I mean, he’d said he never forgot me, but that’s different from having a crush.

  “I … I guess so,” I said and plunged ahead. “He and I … we … I love him.”

  She became quiet, and when she didn’t speak, I kept going.

  “He was talking to me … the other day, and he was upset. This whole thing with you and his dad is bothering him. Probably it’s none of my business, but I don’t think he’d ever say anything to you … you know, about what happened. He …”

  I licked my lips. My mouth was dry.

  “He saw me holding a baby … at church … and got upset. That’s when he told me everything. He kept saying you sent his brother away and didn’t want him either.”

  I’d run out of things to say and fell silent. Soon the sounds around me became loud in my ears: the whir of the refrigerator, the house popping in the heat, a lawn mower churning somewhere in the distance.

  She spoke. “Lucy, I don’t know what to say. He’s wrong. I love my son. I love all my children. Even Joseph.”

  Joseph. That must be the baby’s name.

  “But circumstances … it was what I had to do.”

  “I understand,” I said, “and I’m not judging you or asking for information. I just … I just want Jackson to be happy.”

  “Tell you what,” she said. “You have an email address?”

  I said I did and gave it to her.

  “I’ll send you something, and you show it to Jackson.”

  “Okay,” I replied. I apologized for bothering her and said I wouldn’t anymore. But as I was about to hang up, she spoke again.

  “I’m glad he has you,” she said. “He’s loved you for such a long time.”

  She hung up, and I stared into the room in a daze, not really seeing anything in it. Jackson loved me … long enough she knew about it. That was something.

  I couldn’t decide what to do next. A knock decided it for me. I rose from the chair and opened the door. Standing there gazing back at me was Jackson.

  “Where’ve you been?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Out with my dad. He has the day off.”

  “I texted you.”

  He nodded. “I know. I couldn’t reply.”

  And guilt starting bashing my head in again. I couldn’t keep this to myself. “You staying for a few minutes?” I asked. “Because we need to talk.”

  ***

  Jackson seated himself on the front stoop at Lucy’s side.

  Whatever she was about to say obviously tormented her because she kept wringing her hands. He bet it had to do with why she was in his room last night.

  She hung her head and absentmindedly picked at her pant legs.

  “Well?” he said.

  She looked up, her bottom lip between her teeth. “I called your mom.”

  He startled. “My mom? Why?”

  He hadn’t expected that at all.

  “I wanted to help you.”

  He roved his eyes over her face. Her anguish displayed itself in her eyes; dark circles sat underneath. She must not have slept much after her escapade.

  “You’ve already helped me,” he said.

  Her face registered surprise at that statement, which emotion she confirmed with her next word. “How?”

  “By listening to me. By making me laugh. By being yourself.”

  But it was as if she didn’t hear him because she continued to spout her reasoning. “I thought talking to her would maybe, you know …”

  No, he didn’t know. Talking to his mom would do nothing. She’d made her choices, and they’d affected everyone. Somehow He would live with that.

  And in his mind’s eye he saw Lucy’s fleeting form racing across the lawn in the darkness. “Was that why you were in my room?” She was after the phone number.

  She visibly flinched. “Y-you saw me?”

  “Leaving and climbing in your window. You should have talked to me first.”

  “I know.”

  Her bare statement struck him hard. She was remorseful, and so she should be. “This isn’t one of your dares, Lucy. This is my life you messed with. You should have thought of that.”

  “You’re mad. Aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Furious.”

  She wiggled in place, moving her feet down a step and putting them back up again. Resting her hands at her sides and subsequently moving them back into her lap. “I deserve it.”

  “You deserve …” And words failed him. It was so like her to do this, something so incredibly on the edge of stupid. It was why he loved her so much.

  Overcome, he leaned forward and kissed her, her lips tender and pliant under his, her breath sweet blowing in his mouth.

  She gaped at him afterward, her forehead wrinkled. “What … was that for?”

  “Because I love you, and you infuriate me.” He glanced away. Look at her any longer and he’d repeat it, only it’d be stronger next time.

  “I have another confession to make,” she said.

  He sighed. “What is it this time?”

  How deep did she dig? Talking to his mom was one thing, but––

  “I tried to find out about your little brother.” She didn’t give him time to speak. “But before I called her, I … I called a hospital. I thought I could get names, something to work with to find her. But they wouldn’t tell me anything. That’s when I thought about looking on your phone.”

  He returned his eyes to her face.

  “And your mom, she was nice. She remembered me. She said …” She hushed.

  “She said what?”

  Lucy tucked her hair behind her ears. “She said you loved me.”

  Despite his anger, his heart warmed. �
��I do love you. You already know that.”

  “Yes, but she said … three years. You didn’t see me for three years. How could you feel that way?”

  He stared at her. “Answer me this. Did you forget me in all that time?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  She brushed a hair from her face. “So you came here and you would have … looked for me?”

  Looked and looked. But he didn’t think he’d have to search very hard, nor had had he thought she’d be right next door.

  “Yes,” he said. “Does that satisfy you? What does it matter anyway? We’re here together, and my feelings for you haven’t changed, though I am really mad at you for doing this.”

  She didn’t respond, instead she stood to her feet. “I should tell you the rest.”

  “What else is there?” he said.

  She inhaled deep. “Your mom sent me an email, and she said to show it to you.”

  CHAPTER 16

  I called up the computer screen and clicked on the browser icon. Surfing my bookmarks to my email link, I held my breath and scanned the new messages. Sure enough, at the top was one from Linda Phillips. I hadn’t known her name was Linda.

  Jackson was standing immediately behind me, and his presence made me squirm. For someone who was mad, he was awfully silent. I didn’t know how to deal with that.

  I clicked on the email and it opened in a tab. I read it out loud.

  Lucy,

  Thank you for calling. I have many regrets, and the damage done to my children is the largest. Jackson is a sweet boy. I meant what I said about his having you. Attached is a letter to him and a photo. It is the only photo I have of my Joseph.

  Feel free to email me sometime and tell me how you and he are doing. I’d love to know about school and your lives there.

  All the best,

  Linda Phillips

  The document she’d sent opened in its own window, and I glanced back at Jackson. I didn’t want to read it if he didn’t want me to.