Following My Toes (24 page)

“Ethan, this is a friend of yours?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry Dad. This is Faith. Faith, this is my Dad, Keith.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” I shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you too. How do you two know each other?”

There was another uncomfortable silence. “Well, sir, your son flirted with me while he was servicing my car, took me out once, then never called. However, his supposed ex-girlfriend sabotaged me, but his aunt, your sister, offered me a job, primarily because he gave me a good reference. But we haven’t been in communication lately, not since I left a drunken message accusing him of being a stalker.”

Thank God I was merely thinking that rather than saying it out loud. Ethan came up with a simpler summation. “I fixed her car a few weeks ago, and we sort of kept in touch after.”

“I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Faith.”

“Likewise. And I hope that you’ll be comfortable in this room. Please let my parents or me know if there’s anything you need.” I said this all without looking at Ethan, and I rushed out as soon as I was done. Just standing next to him caused me to turn into a completely flustered idiot. I was losing my head quickly, and I had to get away.

But my efforts were to no avail. He followed me out into the hall, and grabbed me by the arm, turning me around to face him. His touch sent a simultaneous shiver and lightening rod through my entire body, and I could still feel his hand on my arm even after he had pulled away. I stood there facing him, but he said nothing. He looked at me with that intense gaze, the one that had caused me to fall for him in the first place. But I had enough of uncomfortable silences for one day.

“What?” I demanded, after a couple of seconds of him not saying anything.

“I forgot what I was going to say.” He looked down, and scratched his leg absently. All of a sudden I must have felt bad, because the words just spilled out of my mouth.

“Look, I’m sorry about that message. If you hadn’t already figured it out, I was drunk. I was sort of upset about a lot of things, you see, because somebody has been leaving me all these weird messages and notes and stuff, and after Glenn tripped me I thought, well I didn’t think...my roommate convinced me that it was you, but I know that it wasn’t, so I’m sorry. Oh, and thanks for recommending me to your aunt, she offered me the job. Did she say anything to you?”

Ethan remained focused on the itch on his leg throughout my entire speech. It wasn’t until a couple of seconds after I was done when his eyes met mine. When he spoke, his voice sounded cold.

“You mean that weird message from a few days ago? The one that was left at my shop?”

Oh no. What had I done, and how could I take it all back? My mind drew a blank. “Yeah.”

“That was you?”

“Yeah.”

“You thought I was stalking you?”

“Um... Well as I just explained....”

“You know, that message was so garbled, I had no idea it was you until now. I erased it and forgot about it.”

“Oh.” Shit. Stupid, stupid me.

“So you called on the night after Glenn accidentally tripped you. Was the message meant to be a threat or something?”

“No! Wait a second. Glenn tripped me on purpose! And she caused me to bruise my tailbone really bad. It’s only now that I can sit down without my donut pillow...”

“What’s a donut pillow?”

“You know, a donut pillow?” I drew the shape of it in the air with my hands. Ethan shook his head in confusion. “Look, never mind. I was drunk and I was in pain, and I was angry with Glenn for tripping me. But I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Glenn tripping you was an accident. She felt terrible about it.”

“Hah! Yeah, right. Do you know your girlfriend at all?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. But yeah, I know her. And I know she wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Please! She threatened me, then she tripped me. For some reason she felt so threatened by me that ...”

“Threatened by you? Glenn doesn’t feel threatened by anyone, so she certainly doesn’t feel threatened by you.”

The implied insult infuriated me. “Meaning what? Am I so low on the food chain?”

He hesitated. “Look, no offense. But you work at her mom’s coffee shop. And Glenn, well she’s in P.R. Image is everything to her. You’re not the sort of person she would feel intimidated by.”

“So I don’t have an image? All I am is some lackey who works in her mother’s coffee shop? Is that how you see me?”

“What I’m saying is that’s how Glenn sees you.” It wouldn’t have mattered if he had said, “You are a goddess, please marry me and bear my children.” I could hear nothing but disdain in his voice.

“Well thanks a lot! But for your information, she felt threatened because she could tell there was something between you and me, and for some insane reason, she wants to hold onto you. Although after what you did to her, I can’t imagine why.”

“What I did to her?”

“And you’re the last person to talk down to me. At least for me, working in the service profession is temporary.”

He laughed. Not a “ha, ha, that was so funny” laugh, it was more like a “you stupid, ignorant child,” sort of laugh. “Excuse me. I need you to repeat that. Because it sounds like you were equating pouring coffee to fixing engines. So let’s be clear. What you meant to say is anyone can do my job? That I am as much of a quote, lackey, as you are?”

“I won’t be pouring coffee for much longer. I just meant I have a job now.”

“Yeah, because of me.”

I wanted to punch his smug little face in. “Fine! Be that way! Call your aunt, tell her I’m a nutcase, make her renege on the job offer. I don’t care.”

“Don’t think I won’t!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

We stormed off in separate directions, he into his room, me back down to the kitchen. When I got down Carolyn was finishing up the salads. I went straight to my fish station and started back to work. My mom was bent over in the refrigerator, grabbing more ingredients for the evening meal. But she had heard me come in, so she spoke without looking at me.

“Are the Gradys all settled in their room?”

“Yeah Mom, they’re fine.” She closed the fridge, and caught sight of me while walking back to the counter.

“Why is your face all red?” My hand flew up to my face, leaving some remains of the milky bread mixture I was using on my cheek.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s hot in here or something.”

Carolyn looked over at me. “Wow, your face is really red. It’s not that hot in here.”

“I’m fine. Drop it, okay?”

“Well, now you sound angry,” said my mom.

“I’m not angry!”

“You certainly sound angry,” Carolyn interjected.

“I’m not! I’m a little flustered; that’s all.”

They both looked as if they were expecting me to say more, and it was obvious they would not let the matter drop until I did. I took a deep breath. “Ethan is here.”

Carolyn nearly dropped her vegetable knife. “What? He’s here?”

“Yeah.”

“You know Ethan Grady?” My mom wanted to know.

“So he is the one who is stalking you!”

“No, Carolyn, you’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Somebody is stalking you?”

“Mom, I can explain.”

“Please do. Tell me, how do you know Ethan, and why is he stalking you?”

“He isn’t stalking me! I only thought he was because I was drunk.”

“Oh Faith. Haven’t I warned you about drinking in excess? Honey, you need to be more careful.”

“Mom, it was one time. And that’s not what this is about.”

“Well, what is this about?”

“This is about...” God. I didn’t know. Explaining this to my mom was going to be as hard as explaining would have been to Ethan’s dad. But it turned out I didn’t have to. For at that moment, Ethan walked in. All eyes turned to him.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m sorry to barge in.”

“That’s okay, Ethan,’ said my mother. “How are you?”

“I’m good Kay, it’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.”

He turned towards me. “Actually, I was looking for you. I didn’t mean to lose my temper—just wanted you to know. So, uh, no hard feelings.” He walked towards me, his arm extended in an effort to shake hands. I found this gesture, which was obligatory and suggested indifference, more offensive than all the things he said.

“What, did your dad overhear us? Did he tell you to come down and apologize?”

Ethan’s hand dropped to his side, and his voice regained the icy quality it had earlier. “I wanted to bury the hatchet.”

“You know what? We can bury the hatchet when you recognize the evil thing your girlfriend did by tripping me and causing me to fall on my tailbone. Or when you apologize for leading me on, then never calling.”

“I can explain why I didn’t call,” he said, but I cut him off.

“Don’t bother! I don’t want your explanations, because I know all about you.”

“Know what? You keep saying stuff like that, but I don’t know what the hell you mean!” He yelled this, so I guess we both forgot we weren’t alone. I blabbered on, aware of nothing but my anger towards him.

“If you don’t know what I mean, than that makes it all the worse.”

“That old line? You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“Sally told me! She told me all about you and Glenn, how you got her pregnant then abandoned her! How could you be so low?”

Ethan’s face turned white, and all expression drained from his face. Very quietly he replied. “I see. Well that explains everything. Never mind about asking for my side of the story.” He turned to go, and I wanted to puke all over the raw fi sh below me. I instantly regretted my words until he turned back around and calmly laid into me. “Do you even know what friendship is? Are you capable of keeping an open mind, of forgiving anyone but yourself? We’re all human, Faith. So get over it. Life goes on.”

He stormed out, leaving me as torn as an old bank statement put through the paper shredder. Half of me was furious for how he had spoken; the other half wanted to run after him and make everything okay. So I compromised, and stood there, frozen in my thoughts. My mother’s words woke me up.

“Well, that was dramatic. You two must genuinely like each other.”

“Very funny, Mom.”

“I’m serious. We don’t bother to get angry with the people we don’t care about, now do we?”

“You could be right. But what does it matter? Maybe he liked me at one time, but he seems to have gotten over it.”

My mother put down the loaf of bread she was holding and walked across our large kitchen to stand next to me. She put her hand on my shoulder as she spoke. “I doubt his feelings have changed so quickly. My guess is he’s like you; he has some baggage to work through before he can figure things out.”

I looked over at Carolyn, who shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head at the same time. I turned back to my mom.

“So what do I do?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Work through your own baggage first. It’s the only way you’ll know if the anger you’re feeling should truly be directed at him.”

* * *

A few Sundays ago I read in
The New York Times
style section that I am a part of a whole generation of prolonged adolescents. As someone who’s made a career out of teaching adolescents, this is not good news. I see the way they act: their self-absorption, their superior attitude combined with immaturity and a still developing brain. It troubles me to think I am functioning at the same level as they are. Yet, I can’t deny it. As long as I am living only for myself and my primary concern is dissecting my personal life, I am no better than a teenager.

So what did I do? Something purely selfish – naturally. I abandoned my parents and Carolyn, and drove straight down to
Duluth
. I promised to be back soon.

Chapter 19

I was on my way out.” Lacey squirmed in her living room, where she remained standing. “I wish you had called first. This is not the best time.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “But I need to know something. It’s kind of urgent.”

“Okay...” Lacey said. “This is weird, Faith. You show up out of the blue, when I thought you were never speaking to me again.”

“I know, but if we could sit down, then I’ll explain.”

“I don’t have the time. I am supposed to meet Peter in twenty minutes.”

“Okay, fine.” During my drive down I envisioned Lacey as being happy and relieved to see me, but uncomfortable and impatient was more like it. I pushed on anyway. “Here’s what I need to know; does Peter actually make you happy?”

“What?”

“Does he actually make you happy? Do you feel like he’s ‘the one’? And if so, have you always felt that way, like, since you first met him? And does he treat you well? Is he there for you? Has he helped you deal with your dad?”

“That’s way more than one question. You should have called.”