After we were finished, Chris wadded up his napkin and tossed it at a garbage can. It bounced off the side and rolled into the parking lot. He scowled. I retrieved the napkin and threw it away for him.

“I kind of remember,” he said, the wind nearly whisking away the words before they were out of his mouth.

I tried not to look as excited by this news as I felt. If I’d learned one thing, it was that pressure didn’t tend to put him in a very good place these days. “Yeah?” Disinterested Nikki picked at a splintered piece of wood on the bench seat.

He nodded. “Rebecca. And Sam. The kid from the community center? She’s his mom.”

“So that’s where you knew that kid from. You obviously knew Rebecca. And it makes sense that Heriberto would go to her house. Maybe he’s, like, her husband, and Sam’s their kid. Or something.” We both knew that wasn’t true. We’d seen the exchanges between Heriberto and the boys. Sam was no stranger to Heriberto, but he definitely wasn’t his kid. If anything, he appeared to be a colleague. “Or maybe he’s—”

“Sam is Rebecca’s son,” Chris said, interrupting me. “That’s all I know for sure.”

“And how do you know that?”

He rubbed his forehead; I wondered if another headache was coming on. “I think I used to date her.”

My eyes grew wide. “You remember dating her?”

“Not really.” He squinted, rubbed harder. “Maybe. I mean, I think so, sure. It’s still fuzzy. I looked her up. I recognized her face. I know it goes with that kid, Sam. And when I saw her, I had a feeling that I knew her. Knew her, knew her.” He gave me an embarrassed glance. “It’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue. Same feeling.”

“Were you dating her, like, recently?”

“I don’t know.”

“Like, since I’ve known you?”

“I don’t know, Nikki.” Irritation. “How am I supposed to know what I’m not remembering and from when? Could have been six months ago or it could have been six years ago. But for some reason I think it was a long time ago.”

“It’ll come to you,” I said. But there was a part of me that hoped it didn’t. And that sincerely pissed me off, that I suddenly didn’t want him remembering past girlfriends, because why, exactly?

Because of the magenta that you are firmly ignoring, Nikki. The magenta that shines the brightest in that rainbow you keep feeling every time he touches you.

He slurped his soda. “I guess.”

I dangled the car key in front of Chris’s face. “My turn to sleep.”

He took the key, reluctantly.

“Don’t look so butt-hurt about it. You can listen to your riveting talk radio for company.”