Homebound

by Alyssa B Cole

  Then he says, “Hey, Abby. You need a ride home?”

  My house is super close. He knows this. I mean, he could certainly just be acting like a gentleman, but there’s plenty of other people here who could potentially take me home.

  I wonder if he sees that I’m not exactly in a great mood right now. Though, now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I’ve been in a great mood.

  “Okay,” I say. “I don’t think the meat is sitting right with me, anyway.”

  Henry, who’s into his third burrito, pauses with growing wariness. After a moment or two, though, he shrugs and starts eating again.

  “Feel better!” Cassie says over the others who bid me goodbye.

  I grab my purse and jacket, dumping the small amount of leftover food into the trash and setting the tray on top of Ethan’s discarded one. I follow him out of the fast-food joint, quickly throwing on my jacket. It’s gotten chilly in Minnesota; it’s just a few degrees above freezing. The kids are definitely not going to have a very fun time Trick or Treating in a few days. Well, at least they’ll be dressed up and have a little extra protection against the wind.

  “So,” Ethan says, “you wanna go see a movie?”

  I freeze, literally and figuratively, as a sudden breeze rustles the trees near us and sends the hair that escaped my ponytail flying. “It’s nearly midnight.”

  “Midnight showing of That is in theaters. You wanna go?”

  I blink at him. “Why?”

  He shrugs. “I just thought it’d be nice to go out somewhere. I’m feeling social, I guess.” He gives me his Ethan Perry smile. It’s nice, but I don’t think it’s working on me. “Besides, I thought you liked the old That miniseries.”

  “I did.” I saw it on TV when I was seven. The clown scared the crap out of me. Ethan dressed up as a clown that year; I hit him with my plastic pumpkin pale before running away. A year later, I watched the series and laughed at its cheesiness. Still, it’s nostalgic, and I hear the new film adaptation is much scarier.

  Still, I hesitate. “What’s going on?” I ask, folding my arms to keep warm as another rustle of wind rolls by. “I don’t get it.”

  He shrugs. “How come you didn’t tell anyone your birthday’s on Halloween?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “How come you remember that? Is my sister planning something?” I ask him, suddenly suspicious.

  Ethan raises his hands in surrender. “I just thought that maybe it’d be nice to get out and do something different. Honestly, she hasn’t mentioned anything. I just remember that you loved Halloween because you got cake and candy, you lucky duck.”

  I’m surprised. I didn’t think he’d remember that.

  “So,” he says, rubbing his ear, “I was thinking that maybe you and I could go and hang out tonight. Since we work on your birthday and all.”

  Where is this coming from? He and I haven’t been talking - really talking - for ages.

  I stare him down. I only have to wait a few minutes before he caves.

  “Okay,” he sighs, “so I may have noticed you seemed down about your boyfriend.”

  “Ex,” I supply.

  His eyes widen. “You two never actually rekindled anything?”

  Rekindled? How sappy of him. “No. He seems pretty happy with his new girlfriend, actually. They just got together a few days ago. Officially, anyway.”

  A strange mixture of emotions appear on his face, one appearing right after the other. It’s like he straightens and deflates all at the same time. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  I shrug. “It’s probably for the best.” That’s what I’m supposed to say, right? “You know, you don’t have to look after me or anything. I’m all grown up now. And if it’s because I’m your soulmate - " I whisper the word " - then don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

  He looks away, jaw clenching. Then he looks back at me. “You’re so incredibly stubborn.”

  I shrug. It’s nothing I don’t know.

  “Do you want to go to the movies or not?”

  “It’s probably not a good idea. I mean, that’s too close to dating territory.”

  Ethan contemplates, then nods. “Then that’s what I’m doing. I’m asking you out on a date.”

  …What.

  I think of Beth. “You don’t…have to. Really.”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Abby, do you hate the idea. Yes or no.”

  I’m panicking. That must be why I blurt out, “Um. No?”

  He nods, expression softening. “Good. Do you want to go tonight, or would you rather go some other time?”

  On the one hand, it’s very late, and I’ve gotten out of the habit of being out this late. On the other hand, it would be like ripping off the Band-Aid so I don’t panic about it nonstop for the next few days.

  This is different than with Greg. I’d thrown ideas at him, and he agreed. He loved me, but it wasn’t like I was often the one pursued.

  I don’t know how I feel about this, about Ethan actually trying to pursue me. I don’t know why he changed his mind; was it just the fact that Greg and I are officially done? Either way, I’m a giant tangled ball of emotions.

  “What about tomorrow?” he says. “You don’t work tomorrow evening, right?”

  “Right,” I say. Maybe it isn’t just that Greg and I are done. How else does he know my schedule unless he looked at the sheet and glanced at my name? I want to tease him about being creepy, but that’s a little beyond me right now.

  “We can grab lunch, then go see the movie after?”

  “You don’t work tomorrow?”

  He shrugs. “I can take a day off.”

  I frown. I’m sure he needs the break, but I’m not going to have him do it just because of me. “When are you done?”

  “I don’t get done till 9. But I’d like to take you out for a meal, if you’re okay with that.”

  He doesn’t have to do that. I swallow hard, trying unsuccessfully to keep from blushing. “Um.”

  Ethan’s eyes suddenly grow wide. “Am I pressuring you? I really don’t mean to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Obviously. I just - ”

  “No,” I cry. “I’m, um, I’m fine. I don’t…mind.” What is it about him that reduces me to some awkward adolescent? “Do you…want a late dinner? If you want to wait, I mean.”

  It’s a subtle change, but his face seems to glow a little bit. “Yeah. I can just have a snack on break. Are you okay with waiting?”

  “Yeah, I’ll do the same.”

  He grins. “Great.”

  I feel like it’s been a long time since that smile’s been sent my way. I smile back. “Great.”

  Ethan offers me a ride home, but I could use the fresh air. So then he offers to walk me, which is disgustingly sweet, but I roll my eyes and tell him I could use some alone time. His mom definitely raised him right; he seems reluctant to go. I promise to text him when I’m home as a joke. He takes it seriously, though, and seems to relax.

  As I walk home, letting the breeze cool my cheeks, I wonder what the heck I’m getting myself into.

  Chapter 15

  I wish I worked today. It would keep my mind off of the date.

  I’m going on a date. With Ethan Perry.

  This is so incredibly weird.

  I spend the rest of the day doing some final edits on a Tennerr project, busying myself with cleaning - which Greg would probably laugh about since I rarely cleaned our apartment - and pondering how to tell Beth. I never once told her how Ethan and I decided to stay apart. I’m glad for that now. I’d hate to get her hopes up and then go, “Just kidding!”

  Is it okay for me to do this to her? Yes, he and I are soulmates, but we’re not legally bound or anything. We can make our own choices. And I remember how they sat under the tree at Mrs. Perry’s party. They seemed happy together. Does Ethan really not have any feelings for my sister?

  Could he really prefer me?

  In the afternoon, I change at least four times.
I’m not sure how casual to go. Are jeans fine? Should I go ahead and get more dressed up? Will he laugh if I go too fancy? Do I even want to go fancy?

  Honestly, it’s been so long since I’ve gone on a date with someone new, and it’s not like I can ask Ethan the usual questions of “What do you do for a living” or “do you have any siblings?” I know all that stuff already.

  Glancing at my phone, I consider texting Cassie or Jane for advice, but I don’t dare let them know he and I are going out tonight. Word might get around eventually, but I don’t want to contribute to it.

  Sighing, I settle on a gray sweater dress with a dark belt around the waist, black leggings, and boots. I consider putting my hair up in its usual lazy ponytail, but I let it fall loose instead. After putting in just some small hoop earrings and putting on some mascara and light lipstick, I feel I’ve reached a good balance.

  I head downstairs, even though I still have hours to go. I might as well get a snack. Entering the kitchen, I squeal sharply. My dad sits at the table, looking over various papers.

  “When’d you get home?” I cry, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “A little bit ago,” he says, looking up. He blinks slowly. “You’re dressed up.”

  “Yeah, I’m going out - hanging out with someone tonight,” I say.

  He nods. “Good for you. You need to get out a little bit.”

  “Yeah.” I bite my lip. “Um, are…you okay?”

  “Hmm? Yeah. I’m fine. Thank you.”

  I glance at the papers on his table. One ugly word catches my eye.

  My heart stops.

  I should be relieved - ecstatic, even. I’ve known for years my parents’ marriage has been tumultuous. I always wondered why they don’t just leave each other and get it over with. But now, seeing the word divorce printed, I’m dumbfounded.

  “You guys are separating?” I ask, voice too high.

  “I suppose,” Dad says.

  It’s my fault. I said something to Mom at Mrs. Perry’s party. I don’t even remember what I said, but I bet I set something off, and that’s why they’re doing this. It’s my fault. I -

  I look at Dad’s face. Regardless of if it’s my fault or not, it’s the first time my dad has ever looked so lost before.

  “How are you holding up?” I ask quietly, taking a seat.

  He shrugs. “It’s been a long time coming.”

  “Well, maybe,” I admit. “But that doesn’t make it easy.”

  “I’m just glad you girls are all grown up now. It makes it easier to do this.”

  I frown. “It’ll still hurt.”

  He sighs, taking off his glasses and wiping them slowly on his shirt. “I never thought we’d get to this point. I mean, we’re soulmates. Regardless of our differences, I figured we’d be better together than apart.” Then: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “I mean, I’m your daughter.”

  Dad sets his glasses to the side. “Do you know where your mother is?”

  I shrug. “Maybe she’s out with some friends.”

  He nods slowly. “Sure, sure.”

  “Dad?”

  He looks up, eyes a little distant.

  “Were you two always like this?”

  He looks down at the papers. “I don’t think we knew how to talk to each other, in the beginning. We rushed marriage when we found out we were pregnant with your sister.” He looks at me again. “Do you think it’s my fault?”

  I swallow. “I don’t know, Dad. You both seemed to resent each other.”

  He nods dully and looks back down at the papers. After a moment, he says, “When’s your date?”

  “It’s not - ” But I can’t fully protest, because I know and he knows what it is. “Around 9.”

  “That’s late.”

  “He’s working.”

  After a moment, he asks, “Is it your soulmate?”

  I don’t think Dad’s ever asked me so many personal questions before, or vice versa. “Yeah. But I don’t think we’ll become anything.”

  He looks up. “Why not?”

  Is he crazy? I stare at him, bewildered. “Well,” I drawl, “it didn’t exactly work out well for you guys, did it?”

  He frowns. “Your mother and I are more the exception than the rule.” He twirls the pen around his fingers. “I shouldn’t have let you see the papers. I’m sorry.”

  “Dad, no. I’m an adult. I can handle this stuff. Divorce happens.”

  “You can’t even trust your own soulmate. That’s supposed to be the one person in the world that you can trust.”

  I smile dryly. “If it makes you feel better, I have a whole slew of other issues that’s keeping me from fully trusting Ethan.”

  His eyes widen. “Ethan? Ethan Perry?”

  Aw, crap.

  “Ethan Perry,” he muses. “You don’t say. Always thought him and Beth would get together.”

  My stomach clenches. “Yeah, well, they still might. Like I said, he’s not actually going to stay with me.”

  He hums. “Well, you didn’t seem to like him when you were a kid. You didn’t like most people, I don’t think.”

  “That’s not true,” I grumble. I just wanted to hate them first so they didn’t hate me.

  Dad looks at me. “Connie, can I give you some advice?”

  “Never stopped you before.”

  “Talk to him. Be honest.”

  “I have.”

  He smiles a little. “I know. I figured. It’s why I never had to worry about you as much. Beth, on the other hand…”

  Blinking, I take this in. “You’re worried about Beth?”

  “She’s almost thirty and she still lives in Lake Redwood even though she could get much better business toward the Twin Cities. She didn’t even move out until a few years ago.”

  “Maybe she’s happy here.”

  “Or maybe she’s scared.”

  Beth? Scared? She’s always so upbeat and positive. That’s shocking to me.

  Dad gets up and stretches. “I need a drink. You want one?”

  “No, I’m good.” I watch him go to the fridge. It’s full to the point of overflow, but he somehow successfully locates a beer. “Hey, Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think you and Mom could ever work things out?”

  He sighs, closing the fridge door with a heavy thud. “I don’t know, kiddo. I doubt it. We haven’t so far. Maybe our Marks were defective,” Dad jests, but his chuckle is humorless.

  I think about Jen and her boyfriend. “I don’t think soulmate Marks are a magical fix-it.”

  Dad raises a brow as he cracks open his can of beer. “You’ve gotten smart.”

  “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

  “Knew your college education would be good for something.”

  Rolling my eyes, I get up and move to leave the kitchen.

  “Abby.”

  I turn.

  Dad takes a swig of his beer, then holds it out toward me. “You look good. Have a fun time tonight.”

  I smile a little. “Thanks, Dad.”

  I go to leave, but hesitate. Instead, I turn around and watch him move toward the kitchen table, staring down at the documents. I can’t quite see his expression.

  My dad and I have never been very close. My mom and I aren’t, either. But something drives me to hug him, something I didn’t even do when I came home.

  * * *

  I go to Beth’s apartment later. I knock on the door, but no one answers. That’s what I get for not calling ahead, I guess. But I hadn’t wanted to tell her over the phone.

  Oh well. I’ll tell her another day.

  * * *

  Ethan picks me up around 9:15.

  It feels like a high school date for some after-school special. A boy, coming to pick me up. Me, shouting, “I’ll get it,” as I practically trip down the stairs so my parents don’t answer. But we’re adults, not children. And this isn’t so
mething we’re just doing to pass the time until our Marks show. This could really be the start of something.

  I open the door. Ethan stands there, still wearing a suit and tie (Crisp Pages has high standards). I might not have mentioned this, but Ethan Perry looks pretty dang good in a suit and tie. I feel immensely lucky.

  “Hi!” he says, then quickly amends it with a softer, “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I reply.

  He stretches out his hand. He has flowers. I’ve never gotten flowers before except on my one-year anniversary with Greg. What is this life?

  “Uh, this is for you. Obviously. I don’t know if you like flowers, but…you know.”

  It’s so adorkable that I can’t help but love it. Wow. This is so awkward and weird but so amazing at the same time. “No, it’s…great. Really.” I smile up at him. “Thanks. I’ll leave them here.”

  Setting them on top of the side table, I grab my purse and follow him out, closing the door behind me. It’s so cold, I wonder if it might flurry.

  “How was Crisp Pages?” I ask. “Any fun stories about the delightful clientele?”

  “Well, you know,” he drawls, “we are such a high-class establishment, we rarely have any unpleasant encounters.”

  I snort, I can’t help it. He laughs at me.

  This is nice. This is, like, really nice.

  He opens the car door for me. That has definitely never happened to me before. I mean, that’s mostly just because Greg and I used the subway. But still. Wow. Is it bad that I’m comparing the two of them? I mean, I’m not trying to, but I have little other adult experiences with guys. I -

  “Are you listening to Three Days Grace?” I ask, suddenly recognizing the song he’s turning down.

  “What? Yeah,” he says a little sheepishly. “It’s kind of old at this point, but I love their old albums.”

  “Dude, yes!” I cry, which is probably not what a lady who just received flowers and had her car door opened for her should say. “They’re so amazing!”

  I turn up the song, and we both start singing - very poorly, I might add. As he drives us uptown, we laugh hysterically as I try to make some of that screaming noise that you usually hear in heavy metal bands. Instead, I choke on my own saliva and start hacking, which makes him laugh harder, which makes me start laughing through my coughs, which does not do much in terms of soothing my throat.