by PJ Sharon
“Oh really? Have you decided that your medical specialty is going to be psychiatry now?” I couldn’t help the sarcasm that slipped out. I hated that Ethan was one more person who thought he knew me better than I knew myself.
He dared to take my fingers once more and studied our hands intently. “When my mom was dying, she made me promise to try to be happy and to have a good life. It took some time, but knowing that’s what she wanted for me helped me move on after she was gone. It’s what keeps me trying to be my best—to live life—in a way that would make her proud.” His voice sounded rough, as if he was breathing through gravel. “Don’t you want to have the best life you can for your sister’s sake? I’m sure it’s what she would want for you, right?”
A lump formed and I blinked away tears. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way before.” I sipped my water, relieved when the young waiter came back with my Greek salad and slid a Mediterranean wrap in front of Ethan. I used the moment to take a breath and change the subject before the conversation went any further. I wasn’t about to start crying, and admitting he had a point didn’t seem much better of an option.
“If you’re so smart, how is it a guy who gets into medical school at Columbia on scholarship is hanging out with a messed up stoner like me?”
Ethan stopped chewing and swallowed. His gaze met mine, his expression solemn. “I don’t think of you like that. And you shouldn’t either. Smoking pot is what you do. It isn’t who you are. You have a choice about who you’re going to be, you know.”
I laughed, sipping the sweet tea the waiter had brought. “Mitch and my mom would beg to differ. They act as if I’m an out of control drug addict or something.”
“They don’t know you like I do. You’re a strong person, Lexi. You’ve just been going through a rough time. You’ll get past this.” He averted his gaze and focused on his food again.
“You’ve only known me for like two weeks,” I countered, both amused and grateful as I dug into my salad. “How can you be so sure?”
“I have a sense about people.” His eyes lit with warmth. “Besides, it feels like it’s been a lot longer than two weeks.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I wiped salad dressing off with a napkin.
We were still in the middle of our meal when the waiter offered to take our picture. Ethan came around to my side of the table and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, the two of us cheek to cheek and smiling, a memory of our time together that I would likely have plastered as wallpaper on every electronic device I owned. My chest filled with sadness again. In only a few days, Ethan and I would have to say good-bye—maybe for weeks or even months—maybe forever if we couldn’t make a go of a long-distance relationship.
The waiter handed me my phone and I noticed the message count. There were two from D.D.—probably crying about her latest breakup with Kevin—and a text from Sami about an upcoming gig she wanted me to play in. I sighed. Still nothing from Mom or Mitch. I tucked my phone away, unwilling to worry any more about why my mother wasn’t calling. I needed to stop thinking about all the things in my life I couldn’t fix and start thinking about what I could.
“Is everything okay?” Ethan asked when he noticed me watching him. He ate the remainder of his wrap and wiped his mouth as he finished chewing.
“Funny how time can either fly by or seem like it drags.”
“No word from home, huh?”
I shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “It’s not like it’s really been that long. I’m sure my mom will call me when she can.”
Apparently unconvinced, Ethan lamely attempted to distract me with a philosophical discussion. “Time is irrelevant if you believe in eternity,” he said as if it were fact.
“That’s deep.”
“A while after my mom died—when we were both really missing her—my dad said that time was relative to which side of heaven’s gate you were standing on. Meaning,” he said, as I stared at him blankly, “this life is just a drop in the bucket of time.” I must have looked clueless to him since he frowned and leaned toward me. As if maybe I wasn’t hearing him. “Haven’t you ever thought about fate, destiny—eternity?”
“Only when I’m stoned.” I stuffed another olive in my mouth, grinning.
He tossed his napkin on the table and kicked back, shaking his head as he crossed his arms. “You’re impossible. I’m serious here.”
“I get what you’re saying. I do. But personally, I think we’re all part of some big video game. Better yet, one of those old pin-ball machine games. God puts in his quarter, shoots us out of a gate, and off we go, bouncing chaotically as we crash from one minute to the next until one wrong move and...bam—sucked into some abyss, all for His amusement.” I chuckled, tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it into the dressing at the bottom of my bowl.
“That would mean we’re only here for an undetermined amount of time and then we’re done...or we get shot out of the gate again for another round.
“That would explain re-incarnation.” I laughed.
“For argument’s sake,” Ethan countered, smiling, “if we only get one chance to make a difference, then shouldn’t we try to do something amazing with our lives?”
“Like being a doctor?” I raised a brow in challenge.
He nodded, his expression turning serious. “Do you want to know my worst fear about becoming a doctor?” Ethan leaned forward again, his voice low and his hands folded around the empty plate in front of him.
“Tell me.” I gave him my full attention, genuinely curious about why someone like him—who seemed to have life all figured out—would be afraid of anything.
“I don’t think I’d be able to handle losing a patient. If someone died on my watch—or worse—if I made a mistake, I couldn’t live with myself.”
I reached across the table and laced my fingers through his, wanting the connection more than ever.
“It’s a lot of responsibility. That’s for sure. But nobody is perfect, Ethan. I think you need to focus on all the people you would help, and lives you would save. I know you would make a fantastic doctor.” I smiled across at him, hopeful he’d see my sincerity. “If it’s what you want to do, don’t let fear stop you.”
After a silent moment, his eyes came up to meet mine, sharp and intense. “I could say the same to you.”
My pulse quickened and I met his gaze. “What do you mean?”
“It seems like you’re afraid of a lot of things. Playing your music in front of people, facing your mom...forgetting your sister if you decide to move on with your life. You need to get over it, Lex. Or maybe you think you owe it to her to be miserable forever.”
My mouth opened but no words came out. A lump froze in my throat and tears instantly burned behind my eyes.
“You don’t have to answer.” Seeing the hurt, Ethan’s tone softened. “I’m not trying to be mean, but we both know it’s true. I felt that way for a long time after my mom died. I felt really lost for a while. I was afraid it would be an insult to her memory for me to be happy—for me to go on living a real life without her. Eventually, I understood it was what she would have wanted and that I could never forget her. She’ll always be a part of me. Just as Amanda will always be a part of you. You need to stop using your sister as a reason for standing still in life. She wouldn’t want you blaming yourself, and she sure as hell wouldn’t want you to give up on your future.”
Tears cascaded over and ran hot down my cheeks, dripping onto my arm. I sniffled in a breath. “I know you’re right...but...I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like she’s living inside of me—haunting me. Every time I try to move on, she’s right there, pulling me back and reminding me that I...owe her.”
“Owe her what?” Ethan asked, his indignant tone making me grit my teeth. “She was obviously troubled. She drank herself to death. How is that your fault?”
“Stop it.” I tugged my hand away from his and swiped at the tears on
my cheeks, drawing attention from the next table.
Ethan laid money on top of the bill as soon as the waiter brought it, and stood. “Let’s walk.”
I didn’t argue, glad to be out of the bistro and out of the uncomfortable conversation. But Ethan wouldn’t let it rest. After a brief discussion about not taking the three hundred steps back to the top of the town in the afternoon heat, I conceded to taking the gondola, which would carry us up to Oia’s town square where we would meet the bus. Ethan wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. But I don’t understand why you feel so responsible for Amanda’s death. It was an accident. A stupid one, but an accident, right?”
“I wish I had told someone sooner about her drinking. I didn’t think it was a big deal. It wasn’t like she was doing crack.”
“Like smoking pot is no big deal as long as you’re not drinking or doing hard drugs?” He let me go when I pulled away, turning on him as we stood in the long line at the bottom of the mountain, waiting to take the swaying cable car to the top.
“I thought you understood.”
“I do...but drugs are drugs, and obviously it’s causing problems in your life. Maybe it’s time to quit.”
“Now you sound like Mitch,” I snapped.
“I’m not judging you—”
“The hell you’re not. Just because you’re Mr. Perfect, it doesn’t give you the right...whatever.” If I continued my thought, it was likely I would say something I’d regret—something I couldn’t take back. I turned away, my face hot. “So much for you knowing the real me,” I grumbled. I craned my neck to look up the giant hillside, etched with what looked like a thousand stone steps beside the cables drawing a line straight up the mountain. “You can stay here. I’ll take the stairs.”
Chapter 28
I awoke the next day to the subtle movement of the ship plowing through the open sea. Maddie thought I was imagining it. “You can’t feel the movement of a ship this big. That’s ridiculous.” She yanked open the curtains and peered outside. “Oh...well...we are pretty far from the coast. We’ll be in Turkey tomorrow. I’ve never been. It was one of the destinations Henry and I never made it to. We always talked about seeing the house of the Virgin Mary outside of Ephesus. That was Henry’s wish anyway. He turned quite religious in his older years...” her voice faded as I tuned out yet another long drawn out story about her life with Grandpa Henry.
I dragged the pillow over my face, determined to sleep in. I’d stayed late at the piano bar with Maddie, listening to old American standards and Maddie’s tales of her days on Broadway, most of which she’d already told me. I tried to enjoy myself, but thoughts of my conversation with Ethan and how our perfect day had ended on such a crappy note kept me distracted and edgy.
I wanted to stay mad. And I wanted him to be wrong. But by the time I’d reached the top of the long stairway and arrived back at the bus, my anger had fizzled and I could see where he was coming from. He was working hard to make a life and a future for himself. Whereas I was...pretty much going nowhere. When I got on the bus, Ethan had already taken a seat next to old Mr. Feinstein, the two discussing the merits of the infield fly rule in baseball for way longer than was necessary. He ignored me all the way back to the ship, and I did nothing to remedy the situation, sulking against the bus window and sitting as far away as possible once we were on the tender.
It seemed everyone but me was in agreement that I was heading down a wrong path and Ethan was the last person I wanted lecturing me. It wasn’t like I was an addict. Most of my friends smoked pot. Hell, most everyone I knew did. It was hard to imagine weed not being a part of my every day high school experience. Who would I hang out with? The thought of having to give up my friendships or being on the outside of the small crew I considered family made the emptiness I already felt look like another deep pit from which I wanted to steer clear.
Ethan was nowhere to be found after we returned to the ship and left Greece behind. Again, I’d been a jerk to him when I knew he was only trying to help. I could take the judgment from Mitch—and even Mom and Maddie. But from Ethan, the betrayal stung. Just when I thought someone finally understood me, it was obvious I was on my own. I pulled the pillow tighter over my head.
“Why don’t you get up and come to sunrise Tai Chi with me?” Maddie encouraged, pinching my toes that stuck out from under the covers at the foot of the bed.
“You’re kidding, right?” I peeked an eye out from behind the pillow and checked the clock, 7:30 a.m. “I’m all set, thanks.” I grumbled and rolled over, my back to her and the deadly rays of dawn. “I’ll see you at lunch.” The words came out in a mumble from beneath the pillow.
Maddie sighed. “Well don’t sleep this beautiful day away.” Her cheerful tone grated.
“Yes, maaaam,” I yawned, tugging the covers up to my ears and closing my eyes again. A moment later the door clicked softly and I was alone, drifting on a sea of imagination, Ethan at center stage.
A single bright spotlight illuminates a small square stage. Ethan glides out from the shadows. As he steps into the light, his deep green eyes glisten with warmth, hitting me like a crashing wave. Dressed like a spy in a black tux, he moves with grace and ease toward me. I see myself from above as if watching a movie and I hardly recognize me. I’m wearing a rose colored dress that hugs every line and curve like a satiny second skin, and my shoulders are bare. My hair is styled short and wild and dark eyeliner accentuates smoky lashes. Deep red lipstick shimmers on the mouth of the girl in the dream. With shoes that perfectly match my dress and appear horribly uncomfortable, I’m apprehensive. I know I’m dreaming and that this isn’t really me, but Ethan closes the distance, takes me in his arms, and spins me around to the music, and I never want to wake up. I’m suddenly floating. And I’m laughing, a burst of joy bubbling to the surface so powerful it makes me dizzy.
Then a piano is playing and we’re dancing. Slow circles around and around, our bodies molded to one another, touching in all the right places and setting my skin on fire. Our gazes connect. My heart races as I’m falling into his eyes, my every cell wanting to dive deeper. Our lips draw close and press together, a soft crushing of moist skin on skin as if we can share all that’s inside of us in this one simple act of kissing. Warmth envelops me, wrapping around me like a fleecy blanket. I’m happy...safe...in love, and for the first time in my life, completely unafraid.
Ethan’s hands press into the curve of my back and he pulls me to him as his kiss becomes more urgent. I think I’ll drown...but I don’t care. I don’t want to stop him. It all feels so good...so right. Me and Ethan together. As he brushes my cheek with the tips of his fingers and spreads kisses along my jaw, I melt into him. His lips follow a trail along my neck to my ear. The lobe disappears between his teeth and a jolt of electricity roars from my ear to my toes, warm fuzzy sparks dispersing to every part in between. Sensations cascade through me in a torrent of mindless bliss, every cell ignited by pleasure. Heat grows low in my body and when Ethan slides a hand along my ribcage and brushes his thumb across another part of me that is taut and tingling, I shatter.
I bolted upright in bed, disoriented and half expecting to see Ethan beside me. I shook off the residual buzz humming along my nerves. My hands flew to my face as a wave of embarrassment washed over me. Crashing back onto my pillow, I blew out a sigh, waiting for the heat that flooded my body to subside.
I lay still for a long time, staring at the ceiling and contemplating the dream until my heart rate slowed. Since reliving the steamy encounter would produce no positive result toward starting my day, and I wasn’t at all ready to face Ethan or Maddie, I decided to shower, dress, and go to breakfast alone. I needed some time to think about how to make up to Ethan for snapping his head off and see if we couldn’t come to some kind of agreement about him not siding with all the pushy adults in my life. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about quitting smoking pot. It was just that I needed to do it on m
y own terms. I’d always thought it was something I’d grow out of eventually. A habit that would stop making sense once...I was in college...or maybe afterward.
Thoughts of my sister disrupted whatever bliss remained from my dream state. Amanda hadn’t stopped at pot. She was willing to try anything once she started drinking, a fact I’d learned when I went to visit her at school one weekend and saw firsthand how out of control she was. Even then, the sister code prevented me from ratting her out to Mom. I dragged my hands through my hair, grabbing on tight enough to feel the sting of tears. My head pounded as the morning sun assaulted me with light. Irritation setting in, I took a deep breath and forced it back out.
Maybe I’d quit smoking weed when it didn’t hurt so much to think about Amanda. Numbing the pain sounded like a decent plan...if only effective in the short term. I didn’t want to forget her. I only wanted to erase the feelings of guilt and loss that came with every memory of her. Was Ethan right about me using her as an excuse to be afraid of life?
I sighed again and rolled out of bed, knowing there was no easy answer and determined to start my day and make the best of it, whatever lay ahead. A dopey grin curved my lips as I stepped into the hot shower, flashes of my dream with Ethan replaying in my head—new thoughts and feelings I had no desire to erase.
∞∞∞
I wandered the ship after a hearty breakfast, anxious to rid my head of the chaotic thoughts crashing in from all sides. I found myself once again at the Crow’s Nest. Maybe Tommy would let me practice with his guitar if no one was around. And maybe by lunchtime, I’d feel a little more like a human being and a little less like a savage. My jaw clenched as I considered how badly I’d messed things up with Ethan—again. As much as I wanted to blame him for taking the side of the enemy, I couldn’t say he was totally wrong. Not as supportive as I thought he should be, but not wrong either. But where did it leave us? Was my being a stoner a deal breaker for him? My heart plummeted into an abyss when I realized for the first time that more than not wanting to quit, I wasn’t sure I could—no matter who wanted me to and how many times I’d told myself I could quit anytime.