14. Jessica
Chapter fourteen
Jessica
I sit at my desk, staring at my computer screen, and I can’t focus. My mind keeps drifting back to Eric. Last night, after he opened up about the photo of his mom, my guilt about Jason expecting me to spy on him ratcheted up ten notches. He’s searching for answers, for closure, and I want to help him. But as I sit here now, I wonder if helping him is too personal for our arrangement.
I should be working, but I find myself on social media, scrolling through profiles of people who knew Eric’s grandparents. I don’t know why, but I feel this urge to dig deeper into his past. Maybe it’s because I care about him more than I should, more than I thought I would. Or maybe it’s because I can’t shake that damn guilt of the arrangement I made with Jason to watch Eric, to spy on him. Not that I’ve actually done any of that. Jason asked me about it once, and I brushed it off, telling him there was nothing to report. And there isn’t.
But now, here I am, doing exactly what I swore I wouldn’t—digging into Eric’s personal life. I tell myself it’s different, though. I’m not doing this for Jason or for Kip. I’m doing this for Eric. At least, that’s what I want to believe.
Finally, after what feels like hours of searching, I come across a name that seems to be a promising lead—Nancy. Her profile says she’s a retired nurse who still lives in the same neighborhood where Eric’s grandparents lived. My heart skips a beat as I click on the message button and type out a quick note, asking if she remembers them.
To my surprise, she replies within minutes, agreeing to chat. My fingers tremble as I dial her number, and she picks up on the first ring.
“Hello?” a warm, kind voice answers.
“Hi, is this Nancy? My name is Jessica… I’m a friend of Eric Warren’s.”
“Oh my goodness, Eric!” Nancy’s voice brightens at once. “I haven’t heard that name in years. How is he doing? Such a nice boy, always polite, even when he was going through tough times years after his parents…”
She trails off, and I don’t push her to finish the sentence. Instead, I smile to myself. The image of Eric as a teenager, polite and kind despite the loss he went through, warms me. It’s exactly how I imagined him—strong, resilient, even when the world around him crumbled.
“He’s doing well,” I say softly. “He’s actually looking into some things from his past, and I was wondering if you could help. Do you remember anything about his mom?”
Nancy is silent for a moment, and I can almost hear her thinking on the other end of the line. “I remember vaguely hearing about her,” she finally says. “She wasn’t around much from what I know, but I never met her or anything like that. I lived next door to his grandparents, right in this very house years before they took Eric in, you know. Eric’s grandparents raised him. His mom… well, she had her own problems.”
I bite my lip, not wanting to pry too much, but needing to know more. “Do you know what happened to her? Where she went?”
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Nancy replies, her voice tinged with sadness. “She just disappeared from all conversations and was never brought up again. Eric’s grandparents never spoke about a lot of things, though. They were private people, you know? But they loved that boy. They did everything they could for him.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Thank you, Nancy. I appreciate your time.”
“Of course, dear. And tell Eric I said hello, would you?”
“I will,” I promise before hanging up the phone.
I lean back in my chair, staring at the computer screen again. Nancy didn’t know anything about Eric’s mom, but I’m not giving up. I pull up public records, searching for a death certificate or any kind of announcement about his mother’s demise. Nothing comes up. It’s like she just vanished off the face of the earth.
But then, something catches my eye. A death certificate for Eric’s father. I stare at the screen, my heart pounding in my chest. His father died, but there’s no mention of his mother. It’s like she’s a ghost, a mystery that’s been hidden from him his whole life.
I keep digging, pulling up every record I can find. Finally, I come across an address—a rehab facility in Las Vegas. My fingers hover over the keyboard as I dial the number, my stomach twisting in knots. What if she’s still alive? What if everything Eric believes is a lie?
The phone rings twice before a woman answers, her voice calm and professional. “Sunrise Rehabilitation Center, how can I help you?”
I clear my throat, my palms sweaty. “Hi, I’m calling about a former patient… or possibly a staff member. Her name is Linda Warren?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I hold my breath, waiting.
“Yes, Linda works here,” the woman says finally. “She’s been with us for decades, helping others with their recovery. She’s one of our success stories.”
My heart drops. Linda is alive. Eric’s mother is alive , and she’s been living in Las Vegas this whole time. I blink rapidly. She’s a success story, so that means… she was once struggling with addiction? My heart goes out to her and I feel a sudden surge of pride knowing she is working at the very place that helped her get clean. What a wonderful woman she must be. So, why stay away from her son?
I thank the woman and hang up, my mind racing.
How am I supposed to tell Eric this? He’s been searching for answers, but is he ready for the truth—the truth as convoluted as this? And what if this reality of his mother only brings him more pain?
I spend the rest of the day trying to figure out how to approach the subject. I can’t keep this from him. He deserves to know. But I’m terrified of how he’ll react.
When I finally get home that evening, Eric is sitting on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV. He glances up when I walk in, giving me a small smile.
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “Long day?”
“You could say that,” I reply, my heart pounding in my chest. I’m too full of nervous energy to keep what I found today a secret. “I… I found something.”
He frowns, sitting up straighter. “About my mom?”
I nod, sitting down next to him, my hands trembling with nerves. I decide the best way to say it is to just… well, say it straight with no filler. “I made some calls today. I found her, Eric. She’s alive. Your mom is alive.”
The color drains from his face, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. His eyes are wide, staring at me like he’s trying to process what I just said. I feel bad for just coming out with it. I wish I could take my words back.
“Are you okay?” I squeak out, concern hidden in my nervousness. This is a huge topic, and I have no idea how to handle it.
“She’s alive ?” he repeats, his voice barely a whisper.
I nod, my throat tight. “She’s in Las Vegas, working at a rehab center. The one that… um, helped her get clean.”
Eric leans back, running a hand through his hair, his breathing shallow. I can see the conflict in his eyes—the anger, the pain, the disbelief. He doesn’t know how to feel, and I don’t blame him.
“I see. I’m happy for her if she’s got her life together. But I don’t know if I want to meet her,” he says after a long silence, his voice flat. “She gave me up, Jessica. She left me.”
I reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I know. And I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you. But maybe… maybe it’s worth hearing her side of the story. You’ve been searching for answers, and now you might have a chance to get them.”
He pulls his hand away, standing up and pacing the room. “I don’t know if I can do it. I’ve spent my whole life thinking she was dead. How am I supposed to just… forgive her for abandoning me?”
“You don’t have to forgive her,” I reason with him. “But you deserve to know the truth.”
He stops pacing, his back to me, his shoulders tense. Suddenly, I feel like his enemy and not his ally. “Why did you do this, Jessica? Why did you want to go digging into my life? I didn’t ask you to.”
The accusation in his voice cuts deep, and I flinch, feeling the sting of his words. “I was trying to help you, Eric. You were looking for answers, and you said I could look around and… I thought—”
“You thought what? That you could just fix everything? That you could swoop in and make it all better?” He turns to face me, his eyes flashing with anger. “I didn’t ask for your help. I didn’t know it would turn out like this . I don’t even want this.”
I stand up, my heart pounding in my chest. “You were the one who brought up the photo, Eric. You were the one who wanted to know what happened to your mom.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t ask you to go snooping through my life,” he snaps, his voice rising. “This isn’t your problem, Jessica. It’s mine.”
His words hit me like a punch, and I take a step back, my hands trembling anew. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I was honestly and truly just trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help,” he says coldly. “I can figure this out on my own.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let him see how much his words hurt. “Fine,” I say, my voice shaking. “If that’s how you feel, then I’ll stay out of it.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face. “This is too much, Jessica. I didn’t know… and now I do.”
I nod, my heart breaking. “I get it.”
Without another word, I turn and walk out of the room, my chest tight with emotion. I feel like I’m suffocating, like the weight of everything is crashing down on me all at once. I thought I was helping him, but maybe I’ve just made things worse. I don’t blame him for his anger. He has big feelings and they’re going to come out somehow. I try not to take his words too much to heart. Try, is the key word.
I retreat to my bedroom, closing the door behind me and sinking onto the bed. Tears spill down my cheeks, and I wipe them away, trying to pull myself together. I know Eric is scared. He’s scared of what finding his mom might mean, scared of reopening old wounds. But that doesn’t make his words hurt any less.
I lie down, staring up at the ceiling. Part of me wants to go back out there, to apologize again, to try to make things right. But another part of me knows that Eric needs space. He needs time to process everything and pushing myself into this moment, this huge life changing news, will only make things worse.
I close my eyes, exhaustion pulling at me. I didn’t expect this to turn into a fight. I didn’t expect him to push me away. But I should have. He’s been through so much, and I can’t blame him for being guarded, for wanting to protect himself from more pain.
As I drift off, I wonder if trying to help him has only pushed him totally out of reach. The thought haunts me as I fall into a restless sleep.