My eyes close. I’m sixteen and sitting in Ethan’s car. He’s turned on the child lock.
“Why are you trapping me in here?” I look up from my ice cream when he doesn't respond. His face is pale. He looks nervous.
“What's the matter with you? Are you going to be sick?”
No response.
“Let's go inside.” I gather my stuff.
“Can you, um…?” He coughs. “Can you just wait for a minute please?” He reaches out and wraps his hand around my wrist.
“I guess.” He’s scaring me. He’s never acted this strangely before.
Ethan’s chest rises and falls with one deep breath. “I want you to know how much your friendship means to me.”
My eyes narrow. Since when does Ethan start out a sentence like that?
He continues. “I have something to tell you, and it might come as a surprise. So, brace yourself.”
I’m frozen. I have no idea what he’s about to say.
“I like you. As in, more than a friend.” His upper teeth bite down on his lower lip. He keeps his gaze through the windshield.
Silence sits between us, making a place for itself right there in the cup holders. It stretches on.
He’s looking at me now.
“Kate?”
My stomach is somewhere near my knees. I take a deep breath, feel it lift back into place.
“You’re my best friend,” I say, “and I don't want to ruin that.” It was the first time I would say those words, and certainly not the last.
“A guy can try.” He shrugs and grins. Beneath the nonplussed exterior I see how much work it takes to cover up his disappointment. “Still friends?” He smiles as he asks the question.
“Always.” I look into his eyes, and I want to cry. I’ve disappointed my best friend.
“You ready for our party?” He presses a button, and the child lock disables.
“Ethan, I…” I don’t know what to say, so I stop talking.
“Kate, listen. I don’t like you. I can barely even stand you, okay? Let’s go celebrate our birthday, and I’ll pretend I can tolerate being in the same room as you. Got it?” He grins and holds up a hand for a high five.
I slap his hand. We go into his house for our party, and all I can think is, Ethan has feelings for me.
Tears free fall. Ten years later, and here I am, desperate to go back in time and smack sense into my younger self. You love him! Forget about how it could mess things up. Let go of your control for once in your stupid life and follow your heart. Take a risk.
I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now.
Ethan is dead, and it's over.
Through the thick haze of drunkenness my brain registers a different noise making its way through the music. My head is leaden as it swivels. Two figures stand at the entrance to the living room. I hear my name. I think.
Harper’s hands are on her hips. Her mouth opens wide. I lift a finger and pretend to poke the center of the hole her mouth makes.
“What's the matter?” I hear my own slurring.
She glances from the open bottle of tequila to the photo album on my lap. She turns to the man beside her and says something I can’t hear.
“Would you mind speaking up?” I’m being obnoxious.
Harper and the guy disappear, and only Harper comes back.
“Seriously, Kate? I’ve never seen you like this. How much of that bottle did you drink?”
“I dunno.” My stomach lurches. “Harper?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t feel very good.”
“Shit. Get up!” Harper yanks me onto unstable feet.
The kitchen trash is closest. I bend over and emit the contents of my stomach. Harper holds my hair and cusses. She keeps saying “disgusting” and uses every synonym for the word.
When I’m done, Harper leads me to my room.
Away from my phone, still playing the song.
Away from the pictures.
Away from purgatory.
She leaves with an irritated look. I brush my teeth and lie down in bed, dread filling my throbbing head. Tomorrow when I wake up, I’ll have to face the rest of my life. And the loss of the person I never imagined life without.
15
Kate
A day later and the remnants of my headache are still hanging around. At least drums aren’t pounding in my head anymore. Yesterday was a blur. I slept the entire day, waking once in the early evening to call Lynn. I left a message letting her know I would return to work sooner than expected.
Harper keeps telling me to get out of bed. Do something, she says.
I don’t want to do anything.
Going to work will please her. My first small step toward recovery.
Like recovery is attainable. Maybe it is for some people. But not me. My heart and soul have been torn to shreds and scattered throughout my body. Even if I could put them back together, I wouldn’t recognize them.
I don’t know who I am inside but I know I’m not the Master of Everything anymore.
***
Before I leave my apartment I look at my phone, a small part of me hoping Evie has called to cancel. She hasn’t. And neither has my mother. I’m going to spend an entire afternoon in two places I don’t want to go.
Nausea builds when I make the familiar turn onto my old street. Why didn’t I suggest we have lunch somewhere else? I grip my stomach with one arm. I used to love coming here. But not today. And maybe not ever again.
Ethan occupies every inch of this place. His spirit is here, wrapped around every tree trunk, whispering through the leaves.
My tires spin over the same asphalt we scraped our knees and elbows on. My chest drags in air, then loudly expels it.
Keep it together.
I pull into the Shepherds’ empty driveway and get out. Fallen oranges dot their front yard. I pick one up and throw it. It hits the tree trunk and splits open. I’m walking to pick it up when something bumps my thigh.
I look down to see an orange rolling away from me. Then I look up to see Evie waving from the porch.
“That was your game, wasn’t it? Pretending oranges were snowballs?”
“And now I’m remembering they hurt.” I rub my thigh.
One corner of Evie’s mouth twitches, like she might smile. “Ethan probably didn’t throw them at you very hard.”
Didn’t. Past tense.
She waves her hand. “Don’t worry about the broken one. Let the birds have something to eat.”
I walk to the porch.
She smiles warmly and hugs me. “I’m glad you came.” She lets me go, and I follow her inside.
Tears fall over my eyes without warning. It’s all too much for me. The familiar smell of Ethan’s house, the familiar smell of Ethan’s mom.
She sees the tears even though I’ve turned my head, pretending to look at the painting on the wall next to us.
“I know it’s hard.” Her cheeks glisten.
“Everything I do, everywhere I look, everything I taste and smell, it all reminds me of him. And it all hurts. It’s like a knife stabbing my heart.” That’s the tidy version. I won’t tell her the pain is so great it feels debilitating. I won’t tell her the monumental effort it took to drag myself out of bed this morning. I won’t tell her about the torture I’m experiencing even now, looking into her lovely, heartbroken eyes.
She strokes my hair and says nothing. She knows.
“Let me feed you. I hope you’re in the mood for lasagna. I have about twenty casseroles—not that I’m complaining—and we need to start eating them. We might have to buy another freezer just to keep them.” She peeks into the oven as she speaks. “Food seems to be the answer for many of life’s biggest moments. When someone dies, when someone’s ill, when a baby’s born, people respond with food.” She smiles wryly. “Especially casseroles.”
I nod. “Giving food says, ‘Don’t worry about the everyday things like grocery shopping or preparing meals. Go a
head and grieve’.” I had experience with this. There was enough food to feed my mom, my brother, and me for a month after my dad passed.
Evie smiles. “Does that mean once the food is gone, it’s time to stop grieving?”
I laugh involuntarily, but the sound isn’t happy. “Not by a long shot.”
Her gaze wanders out the kitchen window toward the pool and James’s wood shop. What is she thinking?
She spins around suddenly, walking to the wine rack on the counter. She selects a bottle and pulls two oversized red wine glasses from the cabinet above her. “I think I’ll have wine with lunch. Would you like some?”
“Please,” I answer without hesitation.
She puts me to work pouring the wine while she removes the lasagna from the oven and portions it out. We move to the dining room with two plates of steaming pasta and red wine. I can’t tell her that after how I felt yesterday I should be taking it easy today. It’s obvious she wants to take care of me. We eat in silence, our utensils making the only sound in the house.
I want to fill the silence with conversation, but I don’t know what to say. Instead of forcing chit chat, I focus on eating.
When I finish, Evie reaches for the spatula.
I protest with a stiff hand.
“Eat, Kate,” she says before I can decline. Her tone is no-nonsense. “You look like a skeleton. Harper must not be taking care of you.” She slides another square of lasagna on my plate.
“Harper's gone a lot.”
Evie places a second slice on her plate too. Again we eat in silence. The lasagna is delicious, and I’m stuffed. I set my fork down on an empty plate for a second time.
“Don’t even think about trying to talk me into a third piece.”
She laughs as I sip my drink.
“Good wine.” I lift up my glass, looking through the ruby liquid.
“Ethan found it when he went to France with Nick. They had it in a restaurant, and Ethan said it reminded him of me.” She looks wistfully at the bottle.
“It’s generous of you to share it.” I gesture to the half-empty bottle. “I don’t think I would have.”
“I was saving it to have the night Ethan was supposed to be home for good.” She taps a finger nail against her glass, sending a lone tinkling sound into the air. “I thought we might as well share it, in honor of him.”
I reach over, replacing the cork in the bottle. “Let’s save the rest for James. He’ll want to have some of the wine Ethan once enjoyed.”
Evie shakes her head sadly. “No, he won’t. I asked him to have lunch with us today, but…” She pauses, her eyes grow shiny. “He’s not dealing with things very well. He think’s Ethan’s death is his fault.”
My gasp is loud.
Evie holds up a hand. “I know, I know, it sounds crazy. But James was in the military, too, a long time ago, and when Ethan talked about joining…well, James was very supportive.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t make him responsible.”
“I’ve tried telling him that, but the wall has already gone up. He won’t even go into Ethan’s room.” Evie toys with the edge of her napkin. “He spends all day in his wood shop.”
“Does he have a lot of orders?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Maybe making rocking chairs is cathartic. It was supposed to be a hobby.”
“I’m sorry. I hope things get better.” I don’t know what else to say.
“C’est la vie.” Her expression is forlorn.
She gets up from the table. “Other than the fact that I love you and want to see you, I asked you to come here because I have something to give you. You can say no, if you’re not ready for it. Someday you’ll want these things, but I understand if today is not that day.”
Instantly I feel sick. I can guess what she wants to give me. Ethan’s things. There’s no way… I’m not ready. But I know myself, and I know I won’t refuse them. I nod my silent acceptance.
I follow Evie from the table, then wait at the foot of the staircase as she goes to Ethan’s room and returns holding a large box. “These are just some things I thought you might want. An old sweatshirt from high school, some pictures of you two, letters you wrote him when he was at summer camp, things like that. You don’t have to say yes or no right now, but it’s here if you want to take it when you leave.” She sets the box on the floor next to the front door.
I swallow the huge lump in my throat and blink back my tears. The pain settles like a weight on my chest, but by now that feeling is familiar. I follow Evie to the couch, where we spend two more hours talking. I’m grateful for the box of tissues she places between us, especially when she starts talking about birthday parties.
“We were so lucky you two shared a birthday. Those joint birthday parties were some of my happiest moments. Watching you guys blow out the candles on each other’s cakes, making wishes for one another, instead of yourselves…” She pauses, remembering. “Who’s idea was it to do that?”
I swallow hard, reaching for another tissue. “Who do you think?”
Her lips pull to one side of her face, wistful. “His heart was gold, wasn’t it?”
I can’t respond. My brain can’t even form the words. I focus instead on wiping my face. Last year his birthday wish for me came true. I fell in love with him.
“Chocolate cheesecake!” Evie yells suddenly. “I think we need it, right now.”
Evie brings out a box and two forks. She opens the box and sets it between us.
“Don’t think, just eat.”
I take the fork and obey. The cake is creamy, rich, and delicious. I’m eating my feelings, and it’s not all that bad. Maybe my mother is on to something.
After another hour I tell Evie it’s time to leave.
“Are you sure?” Her words come with a frown. “Nick should be back soon. He borrowed my car to go look at apartments.”
I glance out the large front window and across the street to my mom’s house. “My mom’s waiting.”
Evie pulls me into her when we reach the front door, and we’re both crying again.
When I look into her eyes, I see Ethan in the caramel color. It’s somewhat comforting. His beautiful eyes are still in my life, even if they don’t belong to him.
“I’m going back to work tomorrow, but I’ll visit soon.” I hug Evie again.
“I love you, Kate. I thought you were going to be my daughter-in-law.” Her arms are still around me as she says it.
“I love you, too. You would have made a great mother-in-law.” My chest is tight. I step back and bend down to pick up my purse and the box with Ethan’s things. I gaze at Evie over the top of the box. What do I look like right now? I feel so many things inside, and I have no idea which emotion has made its way onto my face.
Evie sighs, the sound bearing the weight of her sadness. “Bye, Kate.”
“Bye, Evie.”
I try not to think about what I'm carrying as I stop at my car to deposit the box. Holding his belongings in my hands feels like a gut punch. I wipe my eyes and walk across the street to my mom’s house.
***
“Mom, I don’t want to talk, okay?” It’s the third time she’s asked, and the third time I’ve refused.
She won’t let it go. “You need to talk about this. Don’t shut down.”
The concern in her eyes only irritates me further. “Quit looking at me like that.”
“Like what? Like I love you and want what’s best for you? Sorry, I’m not going to stop.” Her arms cross in front of her.
I’ve only been here for half an hour, and already I want to go back to my apartment. If I left now I would hurt her feelings.
“Noah didn’t stay long.” I don’t have to ask if he’s gone. Noah’s visits are always short.
Mom pushes aside her hair and frowns. “He wanted to surprise you at your apartment, but I told him you probably didn’t want company. He went back to Oregon last night.” She shakes her head, her frown deep
ening. “I don’t know what it is about him. He can’t stand to be here.”
I keep going with her train of thought, just to keep her from going back to Ethan. “Maybe it reminds him too much of Dad.”
Her eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Doesn’t he want to be reminded of Dad?”
“I have no idea. Why don’t you ask him?”
“Did Evie give you a box?” Her tone is nonchalant, like she didn’t just abruptly change the subject.
“Yes. And before you ask, no, I don’t want to go through the box right now.”
Her face falls. “You need to start dealing with this, honey. The only way to do that is to face it head on. I have some knowledge in this department, you know.”
Then you should know to leave me alone right now.
I take a deep breath to calm myself down. “Mom, grief is very personal, and I’m not going to handle it the same way you handled it. It’s only been nine days. Besides, I am moving forward. I’m going back to work tomorrow.”
“Good.” She nods her support of my decision.
I sense an opening to set up my exit, and take it.
“Speaking of, I need to leave soon. I need a good night’s rest.” I point to the dark circles under my eyes.
“Can you stay a little longer?” Her eyebrows rise with hope.
I glance around the kitchen and remember she’s alone now that my brother has left.
“I can make tea,” she offers.
I nod. “Sure.”
It’s not like I have anything to rush home to.
***
I hold it together when I step out of my mom’s house and see Ethan’s house across the street.
I hold it together when I head to my car in the Shepherds’ driveway and remember all the times I bounded across the street and knocked on their front door. Can Ethan come out to play?
I hold it together all the way to my car. And then I sit in the driver’s seat and see Ethan’s box in the passenger seat.
The Day He Went Away Page 12