“I can’t believe Mom tricked me like that,” Chelsea says from beside me, huffing out and making me turn and walk away from Emily. “This is low, even for her.”
“Well, we need to talk, and this seemed like a good time,” I say, getting in the truck while she huffs out.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she says, turning on the radio louder than it should be.
I turn down the volume when we pull out of the parking lot. “Good. Then I’ll do all the talking.”
“Whatever.” She turns and looks out the window. I don’t say anything as I turn down Main Street. I put the truck in park and get out, then wait for her on the sidewalk. When we walk over to the ice cream shop, she ignores me as if I’m not even here. She orders her cone, and I order mine, and when we walk to the table, she sits down and looks at me.
I take a big deep breath. “First thing I want to say is that I’m sorry.” She just looks at me. “I’m sorry that I left like that.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she says with all the attitude in the world.
“You have to forgive me,” I say, and she looks at me as if I have two heads.
“And why is that?” She takes a lick of her ice cream.
“Because I’m your big brother and because I told you so.” I smile when I say those words because I used to tell her that all the time.
“Well, my big brother fucked up,” she says softly. It takes everything in me not to go over to her, but I know I have to earn that trust again.
“I did,” I agree with her. “I fucked up big time, and I know I have to make it up to you.” She just listens to me. “Leaving wasn’t the best decision I ever made, but it’s a decision that I had to make for me even though that sounds selfish.”
“Oh, it’s selfish.” She agrees with that part.
“I need you to tell me why you are so mad at me,” I ask. It’s better to come straight out with it instead of beating around the bush. “I can’t make it better if I don’t know how you feel.” I smirk at her. “I get you hate me and want to kick me in the balls, but you need to tell me why.”
“You left us.” She starts off, her voice low. “Forget the pain you caused Mom, which was a dick move, by the way.” She glares at me. “But you just took off on us.” Her voice goes soft when she says the next words. “On me.”
I swallow the lump that has started to form. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“Yeah.” She wipes away a tear. “But you did. You were supposed to always be there for me. You were supposed to fight off the boys when they called me. You were supposed to scare away my dates when they came to pick me up. You were supposed to be there.” She looks down. “But you weren’t.”
Looking at her, I go one step at a time. “One, you’re dating?” I ask, shocked.
“Seriously, Ethan. From all that I just told you, that’s the only thing you picked up on?” she huffs out, and I see a little smile.
“I don’t think I’m ready for that.” Smiling, I get up and go over to her side of the table. I put my arm around her and bring her to me. “I’m sorry, squirt,” I say, and she turns her head and buries her face in my shoulder. She is trying so hard not to cry, but it’s getting the better of her. “I’m back now, and I’m going to make it up to you.” She cries out now. “No more dating. No more talking to boys. There will be none of that bull. In fact, I think I saw something about nun school.” She laughs between her tears.
“I am not going to nun school,” she tells me and wipes her tears. “How long are you staying?”
“For good,” I say, and she looks at me almost in surprise and shock, her mouth hanging open.
“Does Mom know?” she asks, and I shake my head. “Are you going to tell her?”
“Eventually,” I answer her.
“You hurt her really badly when you left,” she says. “And she is going to deny it if you ask. But …” She looks down. “It took her a month to get out of bed. I thought Dad was going to go bald from pulling at his hair. He was helpless. There was nothing he could do. Nothing none of us could do.” The words hurt, and she doesn’t say anything else. No more words need to be said. I know that I have bridges to mend, and I have to earn everyone’s trust back. When I get up from the table, I hold out my hand, and she takes it.
We walk back to the truck, both of us looking down at the road. “So are you really dating boys?” I glance over at her and smile.
“I mean, not a lot of boys.” She smiles shyly. “But I am going to senior prom with someone.”
“How are you a senior?” I ask, and she just shrugs. “I don’t like this one little bit.” I put my hands on my hips.
“Well, then you shouldn’t have left.” She winks at me with a smile, getting in the truck, and for the first time since I stepped foot in town, I have just a sliver of hope.
When I pull up to the house, I see that there are no cars there. “Do you want to come in?” she asks as she reaches for the handle.
“No,” I tell her, not sure yet if I can do the whole family dinner. I know I told her that I’m back for good, but I think it’s good to go slow. I haven’t had the talk with Beau yet, and until then, I’m going to stay clear. “I’m going to head home. Get on the treadmill, work off the ice cream.”
She gets out of the car laughing. “Say hi to Mom for me, will you?”
“Will do,” she says. I watch her walk into the house, only leaving when she closes the door behind her. When I get to the house, I’m shocked to see my mother sitting on one of the chairs outside. She smiles at me when I pull up. My heart speeds up when I get out of the truck and walk to the front door.
“Mom,” I say, and she smiles, getting up and walking over to me. “I didn’t know you were coming by.” I hug her once I get to the top of the steps. She hugs me a bit tighter than normal.
“I drove by and decided I’d stop and see how you were settling in.” She smiles, and I see the tears in her eyes.
“Why the tears?” I ask, and she looks down and then up at me again. This time, her eyes are not able to block the tears.
“I was afraid you’d left,” she whispers, wiping away a tear that has escaped.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. “Let’s sit down.” I point at the chairs. “Or do you want to go in?” She just sits on one of the Adirondack chairs. When I sit down next to her, she reaches out her hand, and I take it in mine.
“Your hand grew,” she says, looking at my hand that swallows hers. “So tell me,” she says, “what have you been up to?”
I laugh. “When?”
“The past five years,” she says, sniffling, and I know she is trying not to cry. “Like what did you do? Who did you hang out with? Did you have any hobbies? Were you with someone?”
I shake my head and look down. “Well, I’ve been a couple of places, but they are sort of top secret, so all I can say is I traveled.”
“I used to pray,” she says softly. “When I found out that you joined the military, I used to pray that you would be safe.” I nod now. “What about friends? Did you make any?”
“Mom,” I say, “I’m twenty-six. We really don’t do play dates.”
She laughs. “I know, but did you have any friends that, I don’t know, celebrated your birthday with you? Who you spent Christmas with?”
“Don’t cry,” I say, and she just looks at me, and I see her lower lip tremble. “I used to get shit-faced every year on my birthday.” She puts a hand to her mouth. “I always dreaded it for so many reasons. One, I was away from you guys, and I just didn’t know how to come back.”
“It was hard for me, too,” she says. “For all of us. Your father,” she says, mentioning Jacob, “and I used to sit outside and relive the day you were born.” I look down, my heart hurting for both of them. “I was so young,” she says. “Young and so scared. I was scared that someone would find out who your birth father was. I was worried that Jacob would tell me he couldn’t do it. I was scared that I would fuck all of it up.�
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“You did what you thought was the best thing at that time,” I tell her, and she shakes her head.
“No,” she says, “I did the only thing that was right. Yes, I messed up everyone’s life. Yes, I was selfish. Yes, I should I have told you. No,” she says, “I grew up without a father. My mother would tell me every single chance she got that I was unwanted, and I refused for you to grow up like that. Knowing that your sperm donor didn’t want you.” She shakes her head. “Fuck no, he didn’t deserve you.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I say. “It took me a while to see that you did it for me.” I smile at her. “So thank you.”
“Now,” she says, “tell me about where you lived.”
“I had a little house,” I tell her, “or more like a shack. It barely has water, but when I got leave for a month, I used to go up there and fix it up.”
“That sounds like fun,” she says. “What are you going to do?” she asks, and I just look at her.
“Being back home.”
“I’m back, Mom.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, looking out. “For good.”
“I’m so happy you’re back,” she says, “but …”
“I know,” I start, “things are not the same.”
“People moved on.” I know that by people she means Emily.
“We’ll see,” I say.
“Well, if it’s meant to be,” she shrugs her shoulders, “it’ll be.”
“I can die trying.” I roll my lips.
“Can no one die?” She crosses one leg over the other. “Will you stay even if you don’t have her?”
“It’ll be hard.” I feel a tightness in my chest. “I don’t know if I’d be able to, but this is my home.”
“Sure is,” she says, looking out. “This is your home.”
“This is my home,” I repeat. Neither of us says anything more and just sit with each other. It took me five years to get back here, and every single day is going to be one step in getting my life back.
Chapter Thirteen
Emily
“You seem out of it,” Drew says two minutes into our daily phone conversation. He’s been gone for three days already, and I have to admit it’s a good thing he isn’t here. I am out of it in every sense of the word.
“Yeah, I had a rough couple of days,” I say the truth or at least a part of the truth. “I always get like this toward the end of the school year. You know this.”
“I guess I never noticed,” he says, breathing out. “I miss you.” I want to roll my eyes. Maybe it’s because I feel stabby since I’ve slept maybe five hours in three days, but I’m just annoyed. “Did you think about coming to visit me this weekend?”
“I told you that I couldn’t,” I remind him. “I have so much to prepare for, not to mention the carnival at the end of the month, and I promised the kids I would help with prom.”
“Goddammit, Emily,” he snaps. “When are you going to put you and me before your job?”
“So, this is me ending this conversation,” I say. “I’m tired, I’m stressed, and frankly, I don’t have time for your tantrum.”
“I know what this is,” Drew says. “I knew the minute he stepped foot into town that you would change.”
I gasp out in shock. “I have not changed,” I answer. I haven’t changed at all. Is my heart intact? No. Am I going on with it? Yes. “And for your information, if you think back to last year, you will recall we had the same argument.”
“It’s just …” he starts to say, his voice softening, and I’m over it.
“It’s nothing. You’re tired, and I’m tired, so I’m going to let you go. I’m going to take a nice bath, and I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say, closing my eyes.
“Fine,” he breathes out heavily. “I’m going to go to the bar to get a drink, and then I’ll hit the hay.”
“Night, Drew,” I say, and I hang up before he says he loves me. Putting the phone on the counter, I get up and walk toward my bedroom. I love my bedroom, and when it came time to decorate it, I did what I wanted. So my king-size bed sits in the middle of the room with a soft pink fabric headboard. The white duvet is so puffy and thick it looks like a cloud. I love pillows, so there are eight pillows on the bed, not counting my light pink throw pillows.
Walking to the closet, I kick off my shoes before walking into the bathroom and going to my tub. I start the water, throwing in a bath bomb. After I undress, I slip into the water and tie up my hair, and a tear falls without me knowing or feeling it. Tears have come every single day since he walked away from me. Or I guess I walked away from him this time. I put my head back and close my eyes, but it does nothing to help with the tears. Instead, it takes me back to memories of him, and I don’t want them.
After a mere ten minutes, I get out of the bath and slip on my robe. I walk out and sit on my bed, reaching over and grabbing the remote. I stop and open the white side table drawer, seeing our picture right on the top. I pick it up and look at it again. I want to throw it out, but I know that the minute I do that, I’ll regret it.
“Maybe that is what I need,” I tell myself, getting out of the bed. “I need to purge him from the house.”
I’m about to walk into the closet when the doorbell rings. I look at the clock and see it’s only seven fifteen. “Jesus, what is wrong with me?” Walking to the door, I open it and see it’s Jenna.
“Are you in your pjs?” she asks, walking in and looking at me with disdain. “It’s seven.”
“Yeah, well, I’m tired,” I say, closing the door. “I didn’t know you would be stopping by.”
“I know. It’s called being spontaneous.” She laughs, as we walk down the hallway. “Oh my god, were you making tea?”
“No,” I lie to her. “I made tea before the bath.”
“You already had a bath? What is wrong with you?” Jenna throws her hands in the air. “Why are the drapes closed? You hate them closed.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t hate them closed. It’s nighttime.”
“The sun is still out.” She points at the window as she opens the drapes. “The sun hasn’t even set yet.”
“I’m tired!” I yell, throwing up my hands. “I haven’t slept well, and I’m tired.”
“Go get dressed and let’s go get some ice cream,” she tells me. “You need to get out and not dwell in this fucking house.” She glares at me now. “I know what you’re doing.”
I shake my head. “He told me he loves me.” The tears come now as I tell her some of what he told me. I keep most of it to myself, though, because it’s mine and only mine.
“When did he tell you this?” she asks quietly.
“Yesterday,” I say. “He came to talk to me after the barbecue.”
“Asshole,” she mumbles. “Go get dressed. We definitely need ice cream.”
“I don’t want to go,” I say. “I have ice cream here.”
“I want you to go and get dressed, or I’ll dress you myself.”
“I don’t know why we are even friends,” I huff out, stomping to my bedroom with her behind me. I don’t have time to grab the picture and put it away before she sees it.
“You kept this?” She sits on the bed and holds the picture in her hands. We shared a dorm room when we were in college, and I kept this picture beside my bed.
“I kept it all,” I say as I walk to my closet and take down the box that says riding gear all over it. When I walk back into the bedroom, she looks at me with her mouth open. “Before you came in, I decided I was going to get rid of it.” I put it on the bed and open it up, and the minute I do, I know it’s going to be the end of me. There on top of the box is his shirt that I wore every single night to bed for a year. I refused to wash it because I was scared that his smell would go away. I bring it to my nose and tears fall on it before I smell it.
“You haven’t washed this shirt in five years!” she shrieks from the bed. “That’s fucking gross.”
“You can still smell him.” I smile and ho
ld the shirt out for her, but she backs away from it.
“I’ll take your word for it.” She grimaces, and I laugh, putting it aside.
Taking out the pictures that are on the top, I flip through them. I’m in his arms in all of them, and he looks at me with a huge smile or I look back at him. “This one is my favorite,” she says, taking the picture she took one morning when we were on the beach.
We had stayed at the beach for the weekend, and I begged them to watch the sunrise with me. It wasn’t even a warm day, and the wind was blowing fierce. I had to put on one of Ethan’s sweaters just to keep warm. Ethan sat on the sand and opened his legs for me to sit between them. I sat down with my back to his chest. He put his arms around me, and I leaned back into him. The sun slowly peeked out of the darkness, and the sound of the waves crashing into the sand filled the early morning quietness.
“Look how pretty that is.” I point at the sun coming up at the same time that Jenna took the picture. The sunrise was a light purple, and with my hair blowing and his face by mine, it was magical.
“It was a good day,” she says as I sit down.
They were all good days, I think to myself, until the one really bad one, and then, all the good left. Putting the pictures down, I walk over to my closet and slip on a pair of skinny jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt, then slide on my white Vans. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to return that,” I say, pointing at the box and putting everything inside it. “I don’t want it. Maybe this is the thing I need to be set free.” I throw my hands up.
“You’re going to go and bring him this box from five years ago?” She points at the box, trying not to laugh. “To be set free.”
“Yes.” I roll my eyes, picking up the box and walking out of the room.
“You forgot this one,” she says, holding up the frame on my bed. I look at the box and then look at her and then look at the box again.
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