Page 230 of Bad Prince

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“And then…” she whispers, “I found out I was pregnant.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Unavoidable.

“With you.”

My chest caves in.

All these years?—

All the stories?—

All the versions?—

And this is the truth?

“He was tall,” she says suddenly, like she needs me to understand something. “Muy alto. Seis tres.”

Very tall. Six-three.

A shaky laugh escapes her.

“That’s why you’re tall for half-Mexican. Porque no eres solo mexicana, mija.”

Because you’re not only Mexican, sweetheart.

“You’re Spanish too.”

The world tilts.

“That’s why you jump the way you do,” she adds. “Why volleyball came easy. He gave you that.”

My hand trembles.

“Can I… should I tell him?” I whisper. “Does he know about me?”

There’s a sharp inhale on the other end.

Then—

“No.”

The word is immediate.

Firm.

“I tried,” she says, her voice breaking now. “Llamé. Escribí cartas.”

I called. I wrote letters.

“He never answered.”

Silence.

“I don’t think he knows you exist.”

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