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“Oh my gosh! That is amazing. I wish I could tell her that, but I’ll keep it under wraps. At least I don’t have to worry about her being attacked. And especially in her condition, she needs to be as unbothered and unstressed as is possible.”
“Her condition?”
“She was in the hospital. A few days ago, Spike roughed her up a bit. But the doctor says the baby is fine. Sidney’s carrying your baby.”
I go silent as I process the information I just heard. I speak slowly and emphatically.
“Sidney’spregnant?”
“You bastard! I should have known better than to trust you! What the hell were you doing with Sidney? Why are her clothes here?”
I turn to find Grant in the kitchen door. He is holding one of Sidney’s shirts I’d left on my bed because I have taken up the habit of sleeping with it.
“Grant. Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down. I want to know what you were doing with my girlfriend, and I want to know now!”
“I didn’t know she was your girlfriend when I met her.”
“And she’s pregnant? Withyourbaby?” Grant advances on me until he is standing directly in front of me.
“I’m just finding out, Grant. Calm down. Remember you’re on medication, and you don’t want to become agitated. Please, calm down!”
I hear a gasp and realize the call is still open. I reach over and end it.
“Can we talk about this, Grant?”
“No!”
“Grant.”
"You make me fucking sick. I’m outta here.”
I watch as he turns and walks away. I hear him cursing as he tries to find his room. I grab his bag and find him sitting on the bed, his head in his hands.
“Grant.”
“Get out.”
“If you would just listen—”
“Leave me alone.”
I stand looking at him as he keeps his face averted. Slowly, I walk out of the room and close the door behind me. I sit at the kitchen island and stare into space. Sidney ispregnant? Withmychild?
I don’t know how long I sit there. Nothing that I think even registers beyond the words ‘Sidney’ and ‘pregnant’. But finally, I drag myself upstairs, mentally exhausted. I don’t know when I finally fall asleep. But when I awake, the sky is a pale gray, like my mood. I drag myself out of bed and shower quickly. It is almost nine. I need to get Grant some breakfast and get him to the rehab center by ten. The heavy dose of pain and desensitization medication wears off at noon.
I toss the untouched pizza into the garbage, then put the kettle on the stove. I go down the hall and knock on his door.
“Grant? It’s time for breakfast. You didn’t have anything to eat last night.”
There is silence. I knock once more.
“Grant?”
I push the door and step inside. I go absolutely still as I find the room empty. His bag is gone. I don’t know how I’m so calm as I walk into the kitchen. My wallet lies open and the key to the jeep is gone.
Shit!
