4: Evan
1210 Words
I did a double take. In front of me, standing few meters away, is a boy no older than 8 years old. Considering I was at a school campus, seeing kids was not out of the ordinary. No, that wasn’t what had my body stiffening or the reason why my mouth suddenly went dry. It was the fact that the little boy had the exact same face I did around the same age. I could snap a photo of him and then compare it to my photo around that age, and no one would be able to tell they were photos of two different people taken decades apart. This was wild. Something out of a dream. A nightmare?
“Evan?” my assistant pulls me out of my thoughts. “Is everything okay?”
I don’t bother turning to him. “I need all the information you can get about that boy before we leave here,” I demand icily as I gesture toward the boy in question. I can hear my blood pounding as my heart rate continued to increase from the shock. Never in my life have I felt so out of depth. Suddenly, the suit I am wearing feels like a straitjacket. I need freedom from whatever I am feeling at this moment.
“I will get on it,” Sanders replies with a hint of curiosity. I know he won’t bother to ask any more questions. He knew enough about me that whenever I asked for anything, I don’t like to be questioned on the whys. He walks away and heads toward the building that housed the administrative offices.
There is a bench a few feet away, and I make my way as I put my shades over my eyes so I could continue to study the boy inconspicuously. I couldn’t help but stare at the little boy who was now sitting cross-legged in a little circle he had formed with his classmates. It looked like they were having an outdoor class session. He seemed out of place amongst the group. He seemed smaller and less mature physically. Even amongst the girls in the class, he was smaller in stature. But that was beside the point, the point was he was me – a couple of decades ago or so. Even though now he was facing slightly away at a different angle, I was still able to study his facial features. My hair, my eyes, my nose, my mouth. Mine.
Somehow, my gut tells me that this boy was mine. I am certain about that one thing. I didn’t have any siblings and no first cousins on my father’s side—that is from where I got my hair, eyes, nose, and mouth from. How did this even happen? Judging from how old he seems to look…
I can’t let my mind wonder about the ins and outs. Not yet. I won’t let my mind linger to her. Her being my ex-wife, Avery. The one person who managed to sneak her way into my heart and subsequently stomp all over it. She was a mistake I made almost a decade ago. She broke something in me. I learned my lesson. I learned to never be vulnerable to love ever again.
I can’t let my mind think about the past right now. Not when I don’t have all the facts yet. I need more information. If there was anything that made me successful in expanding my empire was to make sure I had enough data and context to make the best decisions. And right now, I was in no position to even think rationally. Not when I had all these unfamiliar emotions flooding through me in waves every few seconds. Maybe this was one of those one-in-a-billion scenarios where I had a doppelganger somewhere and this kid was his kid. That sounds plausible.
“Evan,” Sanders’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I forced myself to stop staring at the group and turn to face my assistant.
“What do you have for me?” I manage to say with no emotion.
There was a pause. Long enough to make it a bit awkward. I felt a lump in my throat. Maybe not the one-on-a-billion chance I was thinking about.
I notice that he is holding a black folder. Presumably, a file of the child that the school kept. He coughs nervously and hands me the file. I don’t bother opening it.
“His name is Riley Emmerson and he’s 8 years old,” he starts and then stops again to gauge my reaction.
Emmerson. I don’t recall anyone with the last name Emmerson. I didn’t understand. If this boy—Riley is my son, I was sure that my ex-wife what have been his mother. But Emma’s maiden name was not Emmerson. Where did Emmerson come from? Did she remarry? I should have kept tabs on her when she decided to destroy our marriage! Did she give our child up for adoption? The thought enraged me. How dare she. I took a deep breath trying to find my center.
Facts. I need more information before I drive myself crazy from overthinking everything.
I motion for him to continue.
Sanders clears his throat and continues, “He was recently accepted to this school. After his previous school identified him as a gifted student, they recommended that he apply here. He aced the entrance exam and the interviews. He placed into the sixth grade even by this school’s standards.”
I turn to look back at the class he was in, and they were now broken up into groups of 2 and seem to be working together to draw on a canvas in front of them. Must be some sort of art class. There were only 10 children in the class. Now, I realize that was why he was noticeably smaller than everyone else in his class. He was younger.
“He lives near the school with his mother. He is an only child. His mother works as the chief data scientist for Redford Analytics.” He stops again looking at me with unsure eyes. Redford—why did that name sound vaguely familiar?
“Say her name, Sanders.” I demand a little too angrily.
He sighs before saying, “According to the file, her name is Avery Emmerson.”
Even though I kind of knew what to expect, hearing her name felt like a punch in the solar plexus. I clench tightly clench my hands into balls. It takes me a moment to get my bearings together and force myself to relax. I don’t know where the last name Emmerson came from since her maiden name was Rivera, but I knew she was the same person that haunted me daily the last 9 years.
“She is unmarried,” Sanders added. Sanders has been my assistant since before Avery came into the picture. He was there for it all. He knew what this meant.
I let out the breath I was holding at the thought of her having remarried.
Damn her. She is already making me think irrationally.
The only thing I knew was that there was no way I could leave tonight like I had planned.
- Writer
