Waiting For Ethan (19 page)

E
than's Jeep is in the driveway, but no one answers when I ring the bell. I try the door, but it's locked. Maybe he's in the shower? I sit on the stairs next to a whiskey barrel of lilies that wasn't here the last time I visited. I try to figure out whether Ethan or Jack is responsible for their appearance and decide on Jack. Frankly, though, I can't imagine that either of them is a flower guy.

I know Ethan didn't forget about our dinner because he called this morning to remind me. The woman whose kitchen he renovated gave him a Crock-Pot recipe for ribs, and he said that's what he's making me tonight. “You have a Crock-Pot?”

He laughed. “I'm borrowing Amber's.”

 

Five minutes have passed. I get up and ring the bell again, thinking that maybe Ethan was in the shower when I first got here. Again there is no answer.

I sit back down. A few minutes later I hear a car driving down the road and then the rumbling of the garage door opening. Jack turns into the driveway and pulls into the garage. The car door slams, and he pokes his head out the overhead door. “What are you doing out here?”

“Ethan didn't answer.”

“He's probably walking Brady.” Jack motions for me to come in through the garage. As I make my way across the walkway, Ethan and Brady come into view down the street. A short, pudgy woman walks beside them. From where I'm standing, it looks like her body and Ethan's are touching. Ethan says something, and the woman smiles and playfully pushes him. He grabs her wrists. She tries to twist away. They are both laughing. Ethan lets go of the woman, and she shakes her frizzy blond hair over her shoulder.

Brady sees me and barks. Ethan looks up at the walkway. “Gina, you're early.”

“Not really.” I walk to the edge of the grass to where they are now. I glare at the woman.

“This is Amber,” he says. “The dog walker.”

“I didn't realize you walk with her.”

“Sometimes,” Ethan answers.

“We had a good time today, didn't we?” Amber looks at Ethan while she crouches so that she's eye level with the dog. Brady licks her face. She giggles while Ethan watches them with a stupid grin on his face. Finally she pushes Brady off of her and brings herself to her full height.

“See you soon,” Ethan says.

“You're not rid of me so quick,” she says. She places her hand on his arm and runs her index finger down toward his elbow. “My sweatshirt is inside, remember?” Her voice is two octaves lower than just a moment ago. Ethan looks at me, but glances down when we make eye contact.

When she's out of sight, Ethan pulls me into his arms. “Missed you, babe.” He kisses me hard. He tastes like a cigarette, and I pull away quickly.

“Were you smoking?”

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “The guy I was with on Nantucket. Always had a cigarette in his mouth. Realized I missed it. The only reason I stopped was Leah.”

I didn't know he used to smoke. I guess that explains why his teeth are so yellow. “Well, you should stop again.”

His only response is a frown.

By the time we arrive upstairs, Amber and Jack are sitting in the kitchen, and Jack is speaking in a harsh tone. He stops speaking as soon as he sees me. Amber's open purse sits on the table in front of her. I can clearly see a pack of Marlboros. Ethan breezes by me and fills Brady's water dish at the sink. I remain standing at the threshold of the kitchen door facing Amber. Her eyes travel up and down my body. I stand perfectly still, feeling awkward and wishing I were wearing a more figure-flattering outfit or were more like Luci, who would definitely call Amber out for this.

Ethan turns from the sink and heads downstairs with Brady's bowl. Amber rises from her seat. “I'll just get my sweatshirt,” she says. I watch her walk down the hallway. She looks at me over her shoulder as she saunters into Ethan's bedroom. A moment later she comes out carrying the sweatshirt. I swear to God, she smirks at me.

The smell of the ribs simmering on the counter is overpowering. I feel nauseous. My legs shake, and I lean against the wall to steady myself. I feel Jack watching me. I lift my head to look at him. I think I see sympathy in his expression. Amber struts back into the middle of the room, pauses, turns the sweatshirt right side out, and pulls it over her head. The sweatshirt looks new. It is red with big white letters that say N
ANTUCKET
.

Ethan appears at the top of the stairs. Amber kisses his cheek. “See you soon,” she says in the same low tone she used with him before. He turns and watches her descend to the front door.

I make my way to Ethan's room. The bed is unmade. A musty scent fills the air.

Ethan appears in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Why was Amber's sweatshirt in your room?”

Ethan crosses his arms across his chest. “What?”

“Amber went into your room to get her sweatshirt.”

“So?”

I walk toward him. “What was she doing in your room?”

He unfolds his arms and rubs the stubble on his jawline. “What exactly are you asking, Gina?” He grits his teeth and leans toward me.

I hold my ground. “I'm asking what she was doing in your bedroom.”

He punches the door frame. “I can't believe this,” he shouts. “Jack doesn't like Brady in the house. You know that. The only places he's allowed are the garage and my bedroom. When Amber got here, I had him in the room with me.”

I look away from him. Am I being paranoid? His explanation makes sense. Then I think of the way Ethan and Amber were playing around as they walked down the street, the way Ethan watched, practically aroused, as Brady kissed her face, the way Amber touched him, her smirk as she emerged from his room, her inside-out Nantucket sweatshirt, the stench of cigarettes on his breath and the pack in her purse, the way he watched her as she descended the stairs. I look back at him. “Where did she get that sweatshirt?”

He shakes his head. “I got it for her for watching Brady. I got one for you, too.” He stomps across the room, pulls a similar sweatshirt out of a bag, and throws it at me.

I fling it on the bed. “When did you give it to her?”

He bites his lip. “Last night. When I picked up Brady.”

“So she wore it over here today. Why did she take it off?”

He lets out a deep breath and takes a step toward me. “Why don't you just ask me what you want to know, Leah?” I stare at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to correct his mistake. “Go ahead, ask me. Ask me if I banged her!”

I shake my head and push him out of the way. He grabs my arm. “Don't,” I scream.

Jack appears at the end of the hallway. “Everything okay?”

I shake my arm free. “I was just leaving.”

I calmly walk down the hallway. I don't look back at Ethan. When I get to the stairs, I hear his bedroom door slam. “I'm sorry, Gina. Really, I am,” Jack says. And somehow I think his apology is for the answer to the question that I wouldn't ask Ethan.

 

I shake with rage on the drive back to Clayton. It's one thing to put up with Ethan's unresolved feelings for his ex-wife, but his cheating, or at the very least flirting, with the dowdy dog walker, no way. Did he really cheat, or am I being paranoid? My cell phone rests in the cup holder. I keep glancing at it as I drive, expecting him to call.
“Sorry, I lost my temper, Gina. I understand it looked bad, but of course nothing happened between Amber and me. I would never do that to you.”

I turn onto my street. My cell phone has been silent. A landscaping truck is parked in my spot, and two deeply tanned men are loading mowers into the back. I wait for them to finish. It's like they're moving in slow motion. I beep my horn. The larger of the two men puts his hands on his hips and stares at me. I step on the gas and drive around the block. By the time I return, the pickup is pulling out, and I take the vacated spot.

Once inside, I call Luci. Peter answers. I hang up without saying anything, which is really stupid because Luci has caller ID. Sure enough, two minutes later, Luci calls back. “Why did you hang up on Peter?”

“I didn't want to interrupt.”

She laughs. “Don't worry. We weren't doing anything uninterruptible.”

“We could be,” I hear Peter yell in the background.

I plop down on my couch and stare at the urn with Ajee's ashes. I notice a bunch of DVDs strewn across the coffee table:
Goodfellas
,
Saving Private Ryan
,
My Cousin Vinny
. They are all Ethan's. “I think Ethan is cheating on me with the dog walker.”

“Why would you think that?” she asks me, and she whispers something to Peter.

I explain why. The line is silent. I hear Luci swallow. “I'm sorry, Gina.”

“So you don't think I'm being paranoid?”

She breathes loudly as I stack the DVDs into a neat pile. “Is that what you want me to tell you?”

“I want you to tell me what you really think.”

“In a minute, Peter,” she yells. “I think you should trust your instincts.”

I look at the urn and then the stack of movies. “All his stuff is still here. How will I get it to him?”

“Just throw it away,” she answers. “You don't owe him a thing.”

“She's not even pretty.”

“Who?” Luci asks.

“The dog walker. She's short and fat. Has a flat face.”

Luci says nothing.

“I mean, I could understand if she was pretty, maybe, but . . .”

“Gina, don't try to understand. It doesn't matter why he did it, or who he did it with. What matters is that he did it.”

I pick up the urn with my free hand. “I know you're right.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

I smile. “No, but thank you.”

After Luci and I hang up, I go into my bedroom. Ethan's Patriots sweatshirt hangs over the back of the rocking chair in the corner of my room. I pick it up and bury my face in it. It smells like pine and sawdust. I march to the kitchen, get a paper bag, fling the sweatshirt in it and then the DVDs. I head to the bathroom. His razor, shaving cream, and toothbrush sit on the corner of the sink. I dump them into the bag. I lean into the shower and remove his soap and all-in-one shampoo and conditioner. I head back to the kitchen. I place the bag next to the garbage can.

I walk past the coffee table on the way back to my room. I glance at the urn, and an image of Ajee nodding pops into my mind.

I can't sleep that night. Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe it really happened like Ethan said it did. On the other hand, maybe he's been cheating all along. I think of all the times they texted each other when we were together. Does he love Amber? Did he ever love me?

Somehow I manage to fall asleep, because I wake up to my alarm buzzing. I like waking up to music, but Ethan needed the buzzing sound to get out of bed so I changed the setting. Now I change it back. I will not start my day with an abrasive sound ever again.

When I get to work, there is a vase of sunflowers on my desk and a card. Luci is not in the room, but her computer is on and the office smells like hot sauce so I know she's around. I hold my breath as I tear the small envelope open. Ethan is apologizing. The card will explain that nothing happened between him and Amber. I pull out the card and read:
“Sorry, I got it wrong about Ethan. Ajee from Beyond.”

“It's a little funny, right?” Luci asks. She's standing in the doorway watching me. I look at her, and tears run down my face. “I hate crying,” she says, rushing to me. She pulls me into a hug. “I hate hugging, too. Get yourself together.”

Luci's hug lasts for all of five seconds before she pulls away, reaching for my purse. She unzips it and removes my cell phone.

“What are you doing?”

I watch her press a few buttons. “Deleting Ethan's contact information. There will be no drunk dialing or texting.” She presses a few more buttons and hands me back my phone. I scroll through the contact information. Ethan's name is gone. I look through my log of calls and texts. All the ones from Ethan have been deleted. I try to recall his number, but I never memorized it. I programmed it after he called the first time and then just scrolled to his name and pushed E
NTER
.

“I really don't know his number.”

“That's the point,” Luci says. She's back at her desk looking at her monitor. “Trust me, you'll thank me for this later.” My cell phone rings in my hand. “Oh Christ,” Luci mutters. I look at the screen, hoping it's not Ethan and praying that it is. It's Neesha's name and picture that I see.

“Our closing is on July twenty-eighth.”

“That's great.”

Neesha hears the flatness in my voice. “What's the matter?”

I tell her about Ethan and Amber. She clicks her tongue. It is the same exact noise Ajee used to make. “Looks like Ajee got this one wrong,” she says.

“I guess it had to happen sometime.”

T
hursday is a crazy day at TechVisions. In the morning we learn the 9:07 has accepted our proposal to speed up the editing process and released the analysts' ratings. The irate e-mails and phone calls from analysts demanding better grades begin at nine thirty. After Gail Germain visits our office and screams at us for seventeen minutes straight about her F rating, Luci and I lock our door and stop reading e-mails and answering the phone. At noon, we slip out the loading dock door and head to lunch. As we sneak around the building to the parking lot, I see Cooper standing on the curb talking to a dark-haired woman. The minivan is parked in front of them, and from where Luci and I are standing, I can see three small heads. I elbow Luci and point. “Cooper's girlfriend and her kids.”

She brings her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. One of the kids in the van screams out the window, “Please come with us, Uncle Cooper.”

“Uncle Cooper,” Luci repeats. “I wonder if she has her kids call all her boyfriends that.”

“Probably just the serious ones,” I say as Luci and I trample across the flower bed leading down to the parking lot.

“Well, Cooper's a good catch. If you don't mind short men. If she's smart, she'll hang on to him.”

I take a last look over my shoulder to study Monique. She looks smart. Well, she has a short, sensible haircut and flat shoes anyway. Damn.

Luci drives to Last Chance. We sit in the same booth we were in last Friday when I thought Cooper was going to kiss me. “You know,” I begin, “I almost cheated on Ethan with Cooper.” Kissing is cheating. Not as bad as what I think Ethan did, but still.

Luci puts down her menu. “But you didn't.”

“Maybe he's telling the truth about Amber. Maybe it just looked bad.”

Luci picks up her menu again. We sit in silence until the waitress comes to take our order.

“He wants to meet. To talk,” I say after the waitress leaves. He has sent a few texts asking if we can get together.

“I don't think you should do it,” Luci warns.

“We're meeting on Saturday.”

 

Ethan is positioned in the booth so that he is facing the door. He stands when he sees me. My chest squeezes when I notice he's wearing the blue shirt I love. I slowly walk to the table, noting it is the same one we sat at the morning I learned his name, and I wonder if he intentionally chose it.

“Hi, Gina.” He smiles. I focus on his uneven yellow teeth and not his beautiful blue eyes or the cleft in his chin. He steps toward me. I recoil, thinking he's going to hug me, but instead he reaches for the bag I'm carrying, places it on the seat, and pushes it toward the wall. “Didn't realize I had so much stuff at your place.”

Not trusting my voice, I nod and sit on the side of the booth Ethan sat on when we first met. He sits across from me. All around us, diners are eating and conversing, but Ethan and I just stare at each other. I look away from him and notice a twenty-something couple a few tables away that may be as miserable as we are. The man's reading something on the screen of his cell phone while the woman works the keypad on hers.
“Put your electronic devices away and talk to each other,”
I want to shout.

Ethan clears his throat, and I turn my gaze back to him. Our eyes meet. I swear his are watery. “Look, Gina,” he begins, but before he can say anything else, the waiter who served us the first time we were here approaches our table. Today, he is sans nose ring and apparently in a better mood. “Good morning,” he says, filling our coffee cups and handing us our menus.

“Good morning,” I reply, surprised there is no quiver in my voice. Ethan says nothing. He folds his arms across his chest and waits for Mr. No Nose Ring to leave before speaking again. “Thanks for meeting. I wasn't sure you would show up.”

“I said I would, and I usually mean what I say.”

He either doesn't realize I'm taking a dig at him or he chooses to ignore it. “Well, I thought you might bring reinforcements. Luci with a baseball bat or Neesha with some black magic.” He laughs. I keep my face rigid. I never liked that he laughed at his own jokes. “So, how are Neesha and Luci anyway?” he asks.

Mad I'm here with you.
“Fine.”

The waiter returns for our order. I don't feel like eating, but I get the french toast anyway. Ethan decides on blueberry pancakes and a side of bacon. “We're known for our home fries. You have to try them,” the waiter says. I stare up at him, thinking that maybe he is the talkative twin of the waiter who was our server the first time we were here.

“No thanks,” Ethan says.

“You're missing out,” the waiter says.

I watch him walk away. “He's a lot happier without the nose ring.”

Ethan turns to look at the waiter. “That guy has a nose ring? Are you sure? He doesn't seem like the nose ring type.”

Obviously he didn't choose the booth on purpose. “I'm sure.”

He reaches into the bowl of sugar. I know he's going to pull out four packets. He opens them one by one. I count as he empties them into his coffee: one, two, three, four. I wonder if he's learned any of my preferences or if any part of our relationship was memorable to him. “Do you know you called me Leah that day?” I ask.

Confusion passes over his face. He stops stirring his coffee. I swear he's going to ask which day. He sighs. “I'm sorry, Gina.” He emphasizes my name. “I know you don't believe me, but nothing happened that day between Amber and I.”

Inside my head, I scream
“Amber and me!”
To Ethan, I say, “I don't believe you.” And then I wonder why he qualified his statement with “that day.”

He lets out a deep breath and looks down. “I don't want to fight.”

“Why did you want to meet?”

“I just wanted to explain.”

A group of boys dressed in baseball uniforms charges through the door, capturing my attention. Ethan turns to see what I am looking at. “I thought that ball was headed up the middle,” a boy with the number two on his uniform says. “But then you were there, stepping on second and throwing to first. Game over.” He high-fives with number seven.

“You really don't want kids?” I say to Ethan.

“Nope.” He sips his coffee.

“I so badly wanted you to be the man that Ajee told me about that I tried to turn you into him,” I admit.

He sighs. “Maybe I was trying to turn you into Leah. That's what Jack thinks, anyway.”

I guess I knew that all along, but to hear him say it out loud makes it hurt even more.

The waiter interrupts me from this thought by sliding a plate in front of me. “I brought you a complimentary dish of the home fries,” he says. “I guarantee you'll order them next time.” I stab a potato with my fork and slide it into my mouth. It's cooked just the way I like it, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Salt and spicy flavors explode in my mouth. “They've got a kick,” I say, pushing the plate toward Ethan for him to try, but he declines. I pull the plate back to my side of the table. “Thanks,” I say to the waiter. He smiles and disappears to help another customer.

“I think that waiter likes you,” Ethan says.

I wish he sounded jealous, but he sounds matter-of-fact. “Maybe I'll leave him my number.”

Ethan reaches for the syrup without responding. I open a packet of butter and spread it through the confectioners' sugar topping my french toast. I wait for Ethan to finish with the syrup. When he does, he puts it down. I reach across the table and then flood my plate with it.

“So, you were going to explain,” I say.

He finishes chewing. “I'm just not strong right now, and I have to focus on getting stronger.” He stuffs a large bite of his pancakes into his mouth.

I look at his tan arms and his bulging biceps. “What are you talking about?”

He drops his fork so that it clanks against his plate. “I was with Leah for most of my life. I only know myself as part of the couple Ethan and Leah. Leah and Ethan. There was never one without the other. I have to get used to being on my own and get to know myself as me. Do you know what I mean?”

He watches me, waiting for a response. I shift uncomfortably in the booth. The crazy thing is that I do know what he means, because in the few months Ethan and I spent together, I started to think of myself as part of a couple and I lost a piece of myself. I want it back. I nod. He picks up his fork again and resumes eating his pancakes. I break off a bite of french toast with my fork and drag it through the ocean of syrup on my plate.

“I just need some time on my own right now,” Ethan says. “Time to do what I want, when I want. The last thing I want is a commitment, and you had this entire life planned out for us.” He takes another huge bite of his pancakes.

I push my plate away. “So that's why you slept with Amber.”

I watch his Adam's apple move up and down. He leans back in the booth, casually spreads one arm across the back of the bench seat. “I already told you. I didn't sleep with her.” His eyes are trained on a spot an inch above my head.

I think back to our first visit here, how I was sure my future was finally starting. I even stopped to buy an issue of
Brides
magazine on the way home. All because his name was Ethan. Idiot.

“I'm sorry I got you into my mess. I'm in no way ready to date.”

I laugh. “It's a little late to figure that out, don't you think?”

A large, uncomfortable silence screams at us. It is the type of silence that was comfortable when things were going well. “You know, Gina, you're a great girl. Lots of fun. I like you. A lot. I really do.” He pauses. “If I'd met you at any other time . . .”

I thought the silence was uncomfortable, but this is worse. I push the plate of home fries away from me. He pulls it toward him and takes a forkful. “These are good.”

My phone rings. I have never been so happy to hear its ringtone. I scramble through my purse and pull it out. My mother's face lights up the screen. I click on A
NSWER
.

“We made it. We got back late last night.”

“You made great time.”

“Your father was determined to play at the tournament at Westham Country Club today.” She laughs. “When am I going to see you? I'm making meatballs and gravy.”

“I'll come now.”

I end the call and stand. “I have to go,” I say to Ethan. “I guess this is it.”

He stands and reaches for me. I fall into his arms. “Just give me some time, Gina. Time to get myself together. We can try again. It will be . . .”

I pull away. “The thing is, Ethan, I'm done waiting. For you or anyone.” He blinks fast. I walk past him, leaving a wide berth, and make it out of the restaurant without looking back.