Fool Me Once

by Ash, Nikki

  As Sierra pulls me into a hug, telling me everything will be okay, I wonder if somehow, in this clusterfuck of a situation, maybe our mom heard my prayers from above the day I spoke to her at her grave, and helped guide Sierra back to me.

  I’d like to think she did.

  Blakely

  Three and a half years later

  “Zane Keegan Jacobs, if you don’t get up right this second, Mommy is going to be late for her first day, and you’re going to be late for school.” When my three-year-old doesn’t budge, I add, “Don’t you want to go to school and see Melissa?” This gets a bit of movement out of him. “You have to give her the Christmas gift you bought her.” And now he’s up.

  “I can give her the doll?” His thick brown hair is all over the place from rolling around in his sleep, and he has pillow creases across half his face. My child is a mess.

  “You can. She’ll be there today,” I tell him, thankful that his best friend Melissa was out of town over Christmas break, which means I can use the gift he bought and is excited to give her as a bargaining chip to get him out of bed.

  Zane’s tiny lips curve in a huge grin, and both of his dimples pop out—just like his daddy. If I hadn’t been the one to carry him for nine months and push him out of me after forty hours of labor, I would think Keegan, himself, rolled over and created Zane on his own. They look that much alike. And just like every time I think about Keegan, my heart constricts in my chest over the man who is somewhere in this world and has no idea he has a son.

  Once Sierra and I found the perfect three-bedroom apartment, walking distance from the school, we moved to Carterville, so we could get ready for Zane’s arrival. He was born in December, and we spent the next year learning how to juggle raising a baby while working. I worked part-time, and Sierra worked full-time.

  When I wasn’t working, I would take Zane for walks around campus. Since Keegan had mentioned he went to Carterville, I had hoped to find him. I asked several people if they knew anyone named Keegan, but most just looked at me like I was crazy. I even tried to ask the admissions office, but they refused to give me any information. Without a court order, student files are off-limits.

  When Zane was eight months old, I started school as planned. To make up for my year off, I took extra classes, and I’m proud to say I’m about to begin my last semester of my senior year. I’m majoring in behavioral science, and once I graduate, I’m planning to get my master’s degree in school counseling so I can become a school guidance counselor. It’s been a long, hard road, and I couldn’t have done it without Sierra by my side.

  She’s been so supportive every step of the way. She hasn’t opened her own bar-slash-restaurant yet, obviously, since we’re kind of low on funds, but she’s now a manager at Orange Sunrise, an upscale bar and club downtown, and she loves it. When she’s not working, she helps me with Zane, especially at night when I have to attend study sessions or labs.

  I hate that her life revolves around Zane and me. She works so hard, and most of her money goes to our apartment and living expenses. I offered to take out loans when I realized I would never be able to work and go to school, but she wouldn’t let me. She said she didn’t want me to graduate in debt and promised we would make it work. And we have—because of her. Every time I lost it over not knowing where Keegan was, she was there. When I’d insist we go for walks for hours, hoping to find him, she would tag along without complaint. And when I’d cry for hours afterward, scared of being a single mom because I couldn’t find him, she would hold me and promise I would never do it alone.

  “Hurry and get ready,” I tell Zane, forcing a smile on my face so he doesn’t know my mood just plummeted. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth,” I add as he scrambles out of bed with excitement to give his friend her belated Christmas gift.

  “Morning,” Sierra says, stretching her arms over her head as she walks into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing up so early?” I grab my thermos of coffee from under the Keurig and place her cup under it for her.

  She leans against the counter and groans. “I lost two waitresses this week, so I’m doing interviews.”

  “If you need someone…” I begin, but Sierra shakes her head. I’ve filled in a few times over the years, but she’ll never let me work there full-time.

  “Not happening. You have one semester left, and you’ve applied for the master’s program. You need to focus on that,” she says, and I nod, once again grateful to have my sister in my corner.

  Zane comes running down the hall, his shirt on backward, and his shoes on the wrong feet, just as the front door squeaks open, and in walks Brenton.

  When Sierra and I moved here, we found out Brenton was also attending Carterville. He lives on the floor below us, and over the years has become one of my best friends. Sierra swears he’s in love with me, but I think she’s just trying to play matchmaker. While I’ve dated on occasion, my focus is on my son and my future. I’ll have plenty of time to date once I have a career and can contribute to the bills.

  “Brent!” Zane yells, as he runs to the door to grab the bag holding the gift. “I gotta go now to give Melissa my gift. You take me, please?”

  Brenton laughs with a shake of his head. “Thank God he’s going to finally give that girl his gift. If she doesn’t like it, it will probably shatter his heart,” he whispers so Zane doesn’t hear him.

  “Hey, if more men were as thoughtful as Zane and cared about giving their women gifts, more women would be happy,” Sierra sasses. Brenton laughs, but doesn’t dare argue with my sister. Smart man.

  “Zane, you have to eat your breakfast first,” I tell him. Grabbing a yogurt and a banana, I set them on the table, then pour him a glass of orange juice. Zane sighs in annoyance, wanting to get to school, while I think of ways to get him out of bed tomorrow. The kid would sleep until noon every day if I let him, and after any break he’s even worse, since his schedule has been disrupted.

  After he’s eaten, we head out. Since Brenton’s morning class is the same as mine—actually, all of them are the same—he walks with us to campus. Brenton’s major is also the same as mine, which is how I came to the decision. I was helping him study for a test one day and was fascinated by the content.

  We’re talking about what we think the professor will be like when I spot a man walking toward us and halt in my spot. Unlike the last time I saw him, his hair is no longer messy, but instead neatly combed over. He’s not wearing board shorts and a surfing shirt, either. He’s dressed in a navy blue, button-down, collared shirt and a pair of khaki dress slacks. His sandals have been replaced with shiny dress shoes. But the man who is quickly approaching us is most definitely the same man I never thought I’d see again. His eyes briefly meet mine, but they hold zero recognition. Could he have forgotten me? It’s been almost four years, but wouldn’t he still remember who I was?

  Just as he’s about to walk past us, I move to the left just enough that he has no choice but to stop or step into the grass. When he looks at me confused, it’s confirmed.

  “You don’t remember me.” It’s not a question. I can see it in his features, in the way his brows are knitted together, curious and confused as to why I’m stopping him from walking by.

  Keegan has no clue who I am.

  “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.” His eyes descend to my lips, and I must be frowning because he adds, “Would it help if I said I wished I did?” His lips quirk into the dimpled smile he shares with my son, and I freeze. I should tell him he has a son, remind him who I am. But I’m frozen in my spot. Every time I imagined finally finding Keegan, our conversation always went so differently in my head. For one, he remembered me. I always fantasized him being so excited to learn we somehow created a baby together. Oh my God. I was… am… so stupid.

  “Sorry, you’re right,” I lie. “You’re not the guy I thought you were.” He has no idea I mean that in more ways than one.

  Grabbing Zane’s hand, I step around Keegan and spe
ed walk away, not slowing down until I’m at the door to Zane’s school. It’s on campus, for students and professors to use, and Zane has been attending since last year. It’s not cheap, but it’s convenient. Before that, Sierra and I made sure our schedules were opposite, so one of us could always be home with him.

  Brenton stays quiet while I walk Zane in, who runs straight for Melissa. I smile when he gives her the gift and she squeals excitedly over the doll he picked out. And I laugh when she hugs him and he hugs her back.

  “I’ll be back in a few hours,” I promise him just like I always do when I drop him off.

  “Bye,” he says, giving me a kiss on my cheek. “I love you.” The words out of his mouth right now stir something inside me, and I about lose it. But I hold it all in until I’m out of the building and on the sidewalk.

  “That was him,” Brenton says, and I nod. He’s the only one who has ever seen Keegan.

  “Yeah,” I say, throwing myself into Brenton’s arms. “And he didn’t remember me.”

  “There’s no way someone could ever forget you,” Brenton says softly. “He didn’t want to remember you.”

  I pull back and meet Brenton’s gaze. “You think?”

  “C’mon, Blakely, I only met the guy once, but I remember him. You spent damn near a week with the guy.” His words squeeze my heart, the blood draining from the organ and leaving me feeling broken. He’s right. If Brenton could remember Keegan after all this time, Keegan would surely remember me.

  And then a thought hits me. “What if he was in an accident and lost his memory?”

  “Blakely, this isn’t a Lifetime movie.” He’s right, but Keegan not remembering me due to a medical condition would make it a lot easier to accept than him just simply not remembering me.

  We walk to class, hand in hand, but Brenton doesn’t say anything else, leaving me to my thoughts. If what Brenton said is true, and Keegan is only pretending not to remember me, then that would mean he doesn’t want me in his life. He had to have seen Zane with me. Did he recognize him right away and not want to claim his son? Or maybe he didn’t see him, and he just didn’t want to rekindle an old flame. It would make sense, since he never called or texted after getting my number.

  We walk into class and, like always, head straight for the middle. Not too close to the front but not in the back. Because we’re running late from my meltdown, we have to push past several students who are sitting on the edge. A few minutes later, a man who looks to be in his early sixties, steps up to the podium and introduces himself. “My name is Professor Finnigan, and this is Psychology of Inequality. If that’s not on your schedule, now is the time to run… run for your life.” He winks and everyone laughs.

  I’m still laughing when another gentleman makes his presence known, immediately ceasing my laughter. My eyes dart from the guy standing next to the professor, to Brenton, who looks as shocked as I do.

  “This is my TA, Kolton Reynolds. He’s working on getting his master’s degree and will be helping to teach a few of my courses this semester.”

  My head whips around to look at Brenton, my eyes widening. “Did he… just say…” I can’t even finish my sentence.

  “Yeah,” Brenton says. “His name is Kolton.”

  Because it’s the first day of class, the professor discusses the syllabus, how the grading will work, and what his expectations are. I barely hear a word he says as I focus my attention on Keegan—no, Kolton, as he stands next to Professor Finnigan. When he excuses himself, I consider running after him, but don’t want to make a scene.

  The rest of the morning goes by in a blur. I’m taking four classes total—two on Mondays and Wednesdays and the other two on Tuesdays and Thursdays. When my second, and last, class of the day is done, Brenton asks if I want to go to lunch, but I tell him I need some time alone. I can tell he doesn’t like it, but he at least doesn’t argue.

  After picking up Zane from school, who’s upset that I’m picking him up early and making him miss playground time, we go home and I lay him down for a nap. Sierra is at work and texts me she’ll be home late. She’s staying straight through to handle the evening shift. Not wanting to tell her what happened through a text or over the phone, I tell her I’ll see her tomorrow after class. Then I pull my social media up on my laptop and type in Kolton Reynolds. I know it’s a K instead of a C because it’s written on my syllabus. A profile pops up, and I click to view it. And sure enough, it’s him. Same dimples, same brown hair, same gorgeous green eyes. Every feature matching our son’s.

  Unfortunately, since his profile is set to private, I can’t see anything except his main picture, which is only a headshot. I search Instagram, but nothing comes up. Then I decide to search for Keegan Reynolds. Nothing comes up. I click back onto Kolton’s page, but it doesn’t show any friends, and I’ve hit a wall. None of this makes any sense. Why would he lie about his name? Lie about not remembering me? I pull his picture up on my phone and screenshot it so I can show Sierra when she gets home.

  Blakely

  “So, let me get this straight,” Brenton says, “he has a profile under Kolton, but it’s as if Keegan doesn’t exist?”

  “Yeah,” I say as we walk Zane to daycare before we head to class.

  “I think you should stay away from him. Something is off with this guy.”

  “He’s…” I don’t finish my sentence, not wanting Zane to know what we’re talking about, but I nod my head toward my son, who is skipping along the sidewalk and purposely jumping over each crack, since he learned at school yesterday from some kids that if he steps on one, my back might break. When he told me, I laughed, but quickly stopped when he glared and told me he was serious.

  “So what?” Brenton argues. “If he wanted to be a dad, he wouldn’t have acted like you didn’t exist. I say screw him.”

  I glance over at Brenton and notice his fists are clenched together, and his knuckles are almost completely white. Brenton is one of the most laidback guys I know, so it’s weird to see him so worked up.

  “Jailbird?” I hear being called out, and my body stiffens. There’s only one guy who has ever called me that. I look over and spot him, and my heart palpitates. Today, his hair is covered by a gray beanie, and he’s no longer in a suit, but instead in a pair of ripped blue jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt with a large Billabong logo across the front. A pair of all black shoes with the letters DC in white across the sides.

  And he’s not walking. Nope, he’s skateboarding. He looks nothing like the guy from yesterday, and everything like the guy from our week in Cocoa Beach, and he apparently remembers me. What the hell is going on?

  I watch for a few seconds as he rolls closer on his board, but I can’t do this. Not with Zane here. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t have this conversation in front of my—our—son.

  Picking Zane up, I walk quickly past him, not stopping when he continues to call out my name. I’ll deal with this tomorrow. He’s my TA all semester, so it’s not as if I won’t see him again. After kissing my son goodbye, I step outside. A part of me is hoping to see him waiting, but at the same time, I’m glad he isn’t. But Brenton is, and he looks as confused as I feel.

  “I stopped him when you walked away.”

  “What?” I shriek, now realizing he wasn’t with me when I walked Zane inside. “What did you say? What did he say?”

  “I told him to quit playing games with you or I would fuck him up, then I walked away.” Brenton shrugs, but his posture is anything but nonchalant. “Why the hell was he calling you Jailbird?”

  “It’s…” I don’t want to lie, but at the same time, I don’t want to tell him. That nickname was something between Keegan and me, and it feels like it’s all I have left from our week together—well, that and our son. “It’s nothing. Let’s get to class.”

  When we find our seats, I decide I can’t wait to tell Sierra about Keegan/Kolton. She texted me earlier that she’s off tonight but has a date. With our schedules being crazy, i
t could be next year before we’re both home at the same time. I send her the picture I saved with a long text explaining the best I can. And when she replies, I about have a heart attack.

  S: That’s the guy I have a date with tonight!

  Not even sure how to respond, I wait until class ends, then without waiting for Brenton, fly outside and call my sister.

  “That’s him, B,” she says when she answers the phone. “I met him at Orange Sunrise last week, and he’s come in several times since then to ask me out. Last night I finally gave in and said okay. He called himself Kolton.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I’m supposed to meet him at the restaurant. I’m going to text him to pick me up instead and then we’ll get to the bottom of it. If this guy is fucking with you… with us… we’ll find out, and then we’ll make him wish he never existed.”

  Despite being so upset over what’s going on, I still let out a loud laugh at my sister’s words. Those who don’t know her would think she’s joking or that it’s an empty threat, but I know my sister and she’s being damn serious.

  After picking up Zane, I tell Brenton about tonight. He offers to watch Zane in his room, so we won’t risk him hearing anything being said, and Brenton will be close by in case we need him. I’m seriously so blessed to have the people I have in my life. I learned a long time ago, it’s all about quality over quantity. I may not have a million friends or a large family, but the people I do have are everything.

  When I get home, I busy myself with my schoolwork to distract myself from thinking about tonight. Brenton works at his brother’s cell phone shop occasionally, so he told me he’d be back later before he took off. I make Zane his favorite dinner, a hot dog and mac and cheese, then give him a bath. Brenton has barely walked through the door, and is sitting down with Zane to play a game with him, when the doorbell rings.

  Sierra opens the door, and standing there is another version of Keegan/Kolton. This guy is dressed in jeans and a white collared shirt with a Lacoste alligator in the corner. He’s wearing a pair of brown leather Sperry boat shoes.