Ethan and I were on Skype several nights a week. He wanted to keep up to date with the baby’s progress. And it gave me hope. If Ethan was going to fall off the wagon anywhere, it would be on the road. But he was fine. He was sober every time we talked—alert and happy.
With his blessing, I converted one of our spare bedrooms into a nursery. I found a local artist who painted the room in rainbows, birds, chipmunks, and fun little forest scenes. That room was so heartwarming, and it made me even more eager to hold my baby in my arms. I’d stand over the crib for minutes at a time, imagining our little baby sleeping in that bed, his little haven from the cold world.
Ethan asked me what it was like when the baby kicked. I wished he could be there to feel it. It was so weird at first, feeling one of the baby’s limbs poking out of my belly. Ethan promised to be home before I gave birth, and I hoped he’d be able to feel the baby’s movements. I was so afraid he wouldn’t get home until it was time to give birth.
But he got back in time. He arrived home weeks before my due date, and then he got to experience all that he’d been missing. We’d be watching TV, and I’d grab his hand when I felt the baby moving, pressing it on my tummy where I’d felt the movement. He’d get an expression of joy and awe every time he felt the baby move. And we got in our natural childbirth classes, just in the nick of time.
As my due date approached, he stayed with me day and night. He might have had an antiquated idea of what pregnant women should and shouldn’t do, but I was enjoying being pampered a little bit. I couldn’t remember the last time (if ever) I’d been doted on like that. Granted, I’d still do a few things when he wasn’t around, but overall he let me do no housework, although both my obstetrician and I assured him it would be all right. I took walks in the afternoon and slept more than I usually did, because I’d been told sleep would be a rare commodity once the baby came along. But I was bored out of my mind. We even had the band over once a week for barbecues and just hanging out. I did a lot of reading and catching up on TV series I’d missed over the last few years. But nothing was satisfying enough. I wanted the baby here.
Early one morning around two o’clock, I woke up. I realized I was cramping. I just lay there, unable to sleep, but I suspected something was going on. A while later, my belly tightened. Yes…it was a contraction, all right, but was it the real deal? Less than ten minutes later, I had another one, and that’s when I touched Ethan’s shoulder and asked him to get up.
He was tired and groggy at first, but then it registered with him. I knew what to do, because I’d been studying it for months. I had him use his cell phone’s stopwatch feature, and I had him time my contractions and the time between, and after half an hour, if the pain hadn’t become more intense and convinced me to go to the hospital, the time between contractions would have. I looked at Ethan. “It’s time to go.”
He tried to look excited, but I could see the worry in his eyes. He grabbed my prepared bag from the closet by the front door and then helped me up from the couch. I rubbed my belly, eager because I knew I’d finally see our baby soon.
Chapter Eight
Past
FINALS WEEK WAS an intense whirl, but I made it through. Between having a good chunk of that Sunday to study as well as a quiet empty dorm room, I felt prepared.
Before I knew it, though, finals were over, and I was at home, caught up in the spirit of Christmas, probably my favorite time of year. Ethan and I hadn’t talked much that week, and I felt almost like maybe I’d done something to cause his sudden coldness. But he said he had finals to worry about and, even though we’d spent some time together studying for our history exam, there was a definite coolness in the way he treated me.
Had I been older and wiser, I might have just written him off, but even now I wonder if that’s true. I cared deeply for Ethan and worried about his well being. I wanted him to be happy and satisfied. I would have planned on never seeing him again, except the day I was ready to leave for home, he brought me a small present.
“Open it.”
I smiled and looked at him. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I didn’t get you anything.”
“Oh, hell, Val. Christmas is about giving, not getting. Just open the goddamned present.”
My eyes grew wide. “Well, when you put it that way…” It was a small gold foil box, and I remembered a time when my mother had bought me a necklace that fit in a box that size. Could it be jewelry? I unwrapped the pretty red ribbon tied around it. The gift surprised me, all right, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It was a CD, and Ethan had even made cover art for it. It was a picture of the four of them standing on a dirt road somewhere. Whoever had taken the picture had understood rock band poses, because it looked professional. But the artwork on it had been more recent, because the name on it was Fully Automatic, not Bullet. I knew Ethan had a pretty powerful computer in his dorm room with a slick printer, and after talking to his mother, I figured Ethan’s grandpa had purchased it for him for college, not knowing that his grandson used it to mix music more than to write essays. But what did I know? Maybe his grandpa did know.
But as I looked at that gift, I felt my heart swell up with newfound emotion for the young man in front of me. He’d trusted me enough to let me into his world, and now he was sharing it with me on a whole new level. He’d been around me enough by this point to know that I listened to the music I liked over and over and over, and that’s how it either grew on me or I would decide it wasn’t my thing. It was a visceral response to music, but I had never discovered a way to be intellectual about it. Either I loved it at the most basic level of who I was or I didn’t. And I already liked their music. I felt overwhelmed when I realized first how much trust he had in me to give himself and his art to me that freely, and then it hit me that he had that much confidence in himself and his band.
I loved that confidence. That was part of what continually drew me to Ethan.
So, when my lips had turned up into a smile and I’d gushed a thank you, Ethan pulled me into a tight embrace and kissed me on the cheek. “Have a nice Christmas, Val.” I’m not sure what idiotic thing I said after that, but the kiss made me feel loopy the rest of the day until my dad arrived to pick me up later that afternoon.
It was weird how much I’d changed and how much the world around me at home had too. It had only been a few months since I’d left for school, but things were different. I met up a couple of times with my old friend Jill, and I just didn’t feel as close to her. We were worlds apart now, even though we’d chatted on Facebook once or twice and texted off and on over the semester. We were now different people…adults, maybe? And then I realized that maybe Ethan really was my best friend now, for all intents and purposes.
And over Christmas break, I talked about him…a lot. So much so that my mother insisted on meeting him. After all, she said, if he was my friend, the family should meet him. I promised her she would soon. How, I didn’t know.
And then my little brother…he was in a steady relationship with a girl named Marcy, a cheerleader at my old high school. My brother had never been serious about anyone before, so I was a little shocked. Ha! I thought. Take that, Charlotte.
But Christmas break was soon over, and I was back at college. It felt strange returning there too, and looking back, I think I was having a bit of an identity crisis and just didn’t know it. I didn’t really fit anywhere anymore. College didn’t feel right; home didn’t feel right. And that Sunday when I returned, the day before classes, I felt out of sorts. I considered tracking Ethan down and then decided against it. I didn’t want to seem desperate. So instead I put his CD in my laptop and played it. I hadn’t had as many opportunities to listen to it over break as I had wanted to, so now would be a good time to listen. After hearing the CD multiple times, I was able to start distinguishing different elements between Ethan and Brad’s songs. I was pretty sure they sang the songs they wrote. They both had good voices, no matter what self-deprecating thing Brad had said about their singi
ng.
The more I listened to the handful of songs, though, the more differences I could identify. It wasn’t a bad thing, and it wouldn’t hurt the band, but I wondered if there would be a way they could collaborate more on the music, like they had that night I was there. They’d collaborated on everything that evening, and I felt like that song was better than any of the ones on the CD I was listening to. It had more polish and…well, more heart. I wondered if there was a way I could gently suggest that to Ethan without hurting his feelings. Really, the two men’s styles complemented each other. Brad’s playing was pretty thrash and hardcore with some death metal, groove, and even industrial influences, while Ethan’s was more traditional, if you could call it that—classic heavy metal with a lot of nu metal and alternate metal feel. And you might think they were too different, but they had no problems adding their own thing to each other’s songs (which I was more easily able to identify the more I listened to that CD), and I knew from that afternoon with the band that they could mesh even better when they worked it out on the spot.
So the more I listened, the more I loved them.
And then I felt better about being in my own skin. I thought maybe the semester would be a fresh start. Now that I’d realized I didn’t quite fit at home anymore, it was time to find my place in the world. My RA gave me some pleasant news when she told me I still wasn’t assigned a new roommate. Maybe I’d be lucky enough to have the room all to myself for the entire semester.
That first Monday made me feel better. I knew I was going to like my classes, and I hoped that at least one of them would give me an indication of what I wanted to do with my life. I recognized a couple of fellow freshmen, but no one I really knew. So late that afternoon I decided to go to Ethan’s dorm and say hi to him and Zane. Ethan and I hadn’t compared schedules before break, so I had no idea what his class schedule was like. I was hoping he wouldn’t have a class the second I’d decided to drop by. Maybe I should have texted him first, but I wanted to surprise him.
As I walked down the hall and got nearer to his room, I felt my blood begin to race. I had missed him a lot more than I would have thought. My hands started to shake, and I knew I had to get a grip on myself. It was then that I realized just how much I’d missed him.
When I got to his door, I just knocked without much thought, and I was glad. As usual, I was overthinking it and stressing out way too much. I could hear pounding music through the door, and I smiled as my mind identified that it was Slipknot. Soon Zane was at the door, pulling me in by the hand. “Val. How the hell have you been?” He embraced me in a big bear hug. “Have a seat. How was your Christmas?”
I sat down on one of the two desk chairs. “It was…great.” Oh, that wasn’t convincing. Zane lowered his head, giving me a questioning look, urging me to continue. “It was kind of hard. I…discovered that my friends and I just don’t have much in common anymore.”
Zane sat down, pulling the chair around so he could sit backward in it. “That sucks.” He shrugged. “You know, I think the only reason I don’t have that problem is that me and my friends are in a band together.” I nodded. That and he and Ethan actually went home once in a while to touch base. I hadn’t seen my friends since late August. But it might have happened anyway. Maybe my experiences at college were changing me more than I’d realized. Zane said, “Ethan’s in class right now. If my guess is right, he should be here in about ten minutes or so. Anyway…what exactly do you mean about not having much in common with your friends anymore?”
I tried to pinpoint exactly why I felt that way. “Well, we just don’t talk like we used to. I guess I don’t feel like Jill and I are best friends anymore.” I wasn’t going to tell him that she just didn’t get the whole Ethan-Brad thing at all. Of course, that would have meant telling Zane my deepest, darkest feelings, and we weren’t going to go there. Zane was easy to talk too, though, and I was glad for that.
“That really sucks. It hurts?” He said it like a question, but it sounded more like a statement. I nodded.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get over it. Jill and I just aren’t as close, and I guess I should have expected that to happen. She’s going to the community college back at home, and I’m going to school here, halfway across the state. She has her friends now—new ones she’s made at college and some of our old ones from high school—and I have mine. She said she’d try to come up one weekend in February or March, and maybe I’ll be able to talk more to her then. Maybe we’ll be able to reconnect.”
He nodded. “I hope things work out.” I could tell he wasn’t the most comfortable now that we were getting into talking about my feelings, but he was being a good sport about it. “You can consider me one of your friends, Val.”
Well, of course, I did, and I didn’t know if that’s what he was getting at or if there was something he was being coy about. I was too naïve to read anything too deep into it, so I just said, “Yes, I do. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”
“Good.” He scooted his chair closer to mine. “You care a lot for Ethan, don’t you?”
I felt the need to take a deep breath, but I didn’t. How could everyone read my thoughts so easily? Everyone, that was, except for Ethan. I looked down at my hands but finally worked up the nerve to return my gaze to his. I didn’t want to make it out to be something it wasn’t, though, because Ethan had made it pretty clear to me that we were friends only. So I said, “Yes. I think he’s my best friend now.”
His eyes bored into mine. “You sure that’s all?”
I wasn’t sure what or why he was asking. No way was I going to tell him I thought I was falling in love with Ethan. I would feel ridiculous if I told him I had stronger emotions for Ethan than I should have. After all, it seemed obvious that Ethan didn’t feel the same way for me—he only considered us friends. And if he wanted our relationship to remain that way, then I would be comfortable with it. As long as he was a part of my life, I would be happy. So I said simply, “Yes.” It was anticlimactic.
And that made Zane realize that not only was he uncomfortable with the subject, so was I, and he changed it to focus on classes. So we both talked about the new classes we’d attended that day and, before I knew it, well more than half an hour had passed and still no Ethan. “Well, I already have reading to do for my classes, so I better get started.”
“Yeah, me too. When Ethan gets back, we’ll swing by your room. Maybe we can all do dinner together.”
“That’d be nice.”
When I arrived back at my room, the resident advisor called me and told me I had been assigned a new roommate who would be moving in that evening. Well, so much for peace and quiet. I should have known better than to expect the no roommate situation to last forever. I just hoped my new roommate would be better than my last.
She began moving in from another floor not long after I’d spoken with the RA. Jennifer Manders was a sweet, demure girl, the exact opposite of Charlotte. She seemed polite and friendly. I offered to help her move the rest of her things, but she told me she could get them. She was nice about it but seemed quite set on moving her things herself. Well, it was a little possessive, but I guessed I could understand that. She didn’t know me well enough to trust me yet, so I told her to just let me know if she changed her mind. After just a few trips, though, she had all her things in our room, and she started putting them away. I lay on my bed reading my new psychology textbook and tried to give her the breathing room she seemed to need. She seemed to search for the perfect place to put each item, so I wondered how her tidy self would cope with my intermittent phases of sloppiness, mixed with my incessant love of metal. I guessed we’d find out soon enough.
Well, I had to check out a couple of things with her, and the best way to do that would be through an honest, thoughtful conversation. I didn’t want to just sit back and let shit happen this time. So, once she seemed completely settled, I asked, “Jennifer, not to pry, but why are you moving out of your old room?”
She looked down at her newly made bed before sitting down on it. She seemed a little reluctant, but I could tell she thought it was important to talk. “You’re probably going to think it’s my fault. I seem to be hard to get along with. At least my last roommate thought so.” When she said that, I prepared for the worst. Great. I’d just survived one crappy roommate and now I had another to contend with. She didn’t seem to be the type who would be trouble, though. I was curious and nodded, hoping it would urge her to continue. I had to withhold judgment until I’d heard her entire story. “The first month I was here, I had a single room because the girl who was going to be my roommate decided at the last minute to switch schools. So I was all by myself. I was okay with that, even though it was kind of lonely. But another girl moved into my room in October. She’d been fighting with her roommate and I guess had been kicked out. She called her a conniving little…” She paused, seeming to rethink what she wanted to say. “Well, you know.” I nodded my head and smiled. I might not have been worldly, but I could figure out that much. “Anyway, I know now that she was the troublemaker. She was rude and inconsiderate…and a man-eater, I’m tellin’ you.”
Hmm…could it be? “Her name didn’t happen to be Charlotte, did it?” Jennifer’s blue eyes opened wide. “Charlotte Edwards?”
“How did you know?”
“I was her first roommate. I doubt the problems you were having were your fault.”
Her pale face lit up as she flashed a smile of gleaming white teeth. “You don’t know how good that makes me feel.” Well, that explained her hesitation to trust me at first. She stood up and started arranging clothes in one of the drawers I thought she’d already been done working on. What had seemed like initial shyness now became a light-hearted openness. I could see that maybe I had won a friend, and it would be nice to have a female friend. I’d been missing them.
Dirty Boys: Bad Boy Rock Star Romance Box Set Page 8
