by Holly Ryan
I’m losing him.
“Okay,” he says, holding out his hand. “Come on.”
My mind is torn. I want him to come to me. I want him to take those cursed hands of his out of his pockets and wrap them around me in comfort; but at the same time, I don’t. I don’t know if I can take it. I don’t know if those hands would comfort me or hurt me.
It starts to rain. I shrink down, looking up at the grey sky, and then I hesitantly accept the connection. Our hands slip together perfectly. I clasp my thin fingers around his bulky hand, and I feel so frail in comparison. If this was Ethan’s own hand, and not his father’s, I’d want to draw it into my chest, to protect it, but I can barely manage to hold it, and together we head to the truck.
The short walk takes a lot out of me, and by the time we reach it I’m favoring my bad leg. It’s been acting up over the last few hours, thanks to that little tussle Cole and I had on the floor.
Ethan opens the passenger’s side door and helps me in, taking care that I don’t slip on the way up. Everything is already wet, and it would be all too easy for me to slip. But even though I’ve never been in his truck, I know the right moves to make from my experience in Cole’s. I grab all the right handholds to lift myself up.
He watches me, impressed.
Once I’m seated, Ethan goes to close my door. I stop it with my hand.
He stops pushing, confused, as he should be. He has no idea what I’m about to do – what I have to do, for both our sakes, because I know what will inevitably happen.
Ethan
The door could have hit her.
But before I can react, she sticks her head out of the open door and into the rain where I’m standing. She crawls both her hands behind my neck and buries them in my hair; then she draws me into her space, and she kisses me.
She’s kissing me without hesitation, or pain, or regret. She’s kissing me like she knows what she’s doing and she knows what she wants.
And I’m kissing her back. Because I know what I want, too.
I want her.
I want her worse than I’ve ever wanted anything. I don’t just want her body, though; I want her soul. And my eyes sting at the knowledge that I can’t have her.
I touch her cheek. Her lips are softer than I could have imagined, and they collide with mine in the most perfect way. I cherish this moment, realizing all at once just how long I’ve been waiting for it.
She pulls back. “Come inside.”
I carefully close her door and run to the other side, where I get in and slam my door shut. I don’t care that we’re probably ruining my seats with our wet bodies; there’s nothing I can do about that now. I fish in my pocket for my keys and pull them out to start the truck and get some heat going.
I rub my hands together over the vents as the warm air slowly starts pouring out. She sits there, having stuffed her hands between her legs. Her hair hangs in soaked strings down her neck.
“I’m glad I could help you in some ways, Avery. I’m glad I didn’t have to see you too hurt again. But I can’t be with you anymore.”
I can see her throat tighten at the words. “What do you mean?”
I swallow and lift my chin. This is hard. I can almost hear Avery’s voice saying, So stop it, Ethan. Don’t do this.
I finally speak through the tense muscles of my jaw, the quivering of my emotions. “I’m not good for you. I should never have done what I did. It was wrong.”
“I don’t understand. What was wrong?”
“All of it. I should have stayed away from you from the beginning.” My fingers ball into a fist in my pocket. “I’m hurting you. The people in my life are hurting you, and it wouldn’t be that way if I wasn’t in your life at all.”
Again, that voice of hers plays in my mind: How could it have been wrong when you’re healing me? But she doesn’t say those words, or any like them. She only watches me.
“You know it’s true, don’t you?” I go on. “I can see it in your face.”
A tear falls down her cheek. “Yes. Yes, it’s true.”
“Well, there you go. It’s true. And I think…” Should I say this? “I think that as much as I love you, and no matter what I do, you won’t ever be able to put what happened behind you.”
She starts to cry.
“Hey.” I push a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s not your fault, Avery. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, do you know that? I’d stay and help you get over this, if you thought you could take it.”
She takes a deep breath and fans at her face. She places her hand on the doorknob. “You’re right.” She exits, stopping at the doorway. Goodbye, Ethan.”
A piece of me dies inside.
Avery
I close the truck’s door as gently and silently as Ethan was when he first came into my life.
He offers to walk me back inside, and insists I should at least take something to shield me from the rain, but I refuse. The rain seems all too appropriate for this moment.
I hear his truck sputter and rev as he shifts it into gear, and I dare to turn around one last time. I see him leaving me.
He’s actually going.
And I have no idea when I’ll see him again. The images of all the things we’ve shared together, all we’ve fought for and that we’re now losing in this instant, flash before my eyes.
The rain picks up.
My mind starts to churn, but I stop it. Screw thinking. I’m tired of thinking. It’s time to act on what I feel, because my thoughts are chaotic but my feelings I trust.
So I run to him. I run as fast as my stupid leg can carry me. He hasn’t gone far, but he is in a damn truck, after all, so I have to run to catch up to him.
“Ethan!”
Somehow, he sees me coming; his truck instantly jolts to a stop.
Ethan throws himself out the door and jogs to me.
Then he turns around, one hand on the truck’s bed and the other on his hip. He refuses to turn to face me as though he’s ashamed. I understand, but why can’t he see that he has nothing to be ashamed of after all he’s done for me?
I say his name through fast, tired breaths. “Ethan.”
Still he doesn’t turn.
So I slowly walk to the front of him. His chin is no longer high in defiance, and he looks down at me as though he expected me to do all of this – to chase him down and arrive at this very spot. His eyes are welled up and I can tell he’s trying to hide his emotions.
“Ethan,” I say again.
“Avery,” he replies. I see in him a broken man.
Then it happens. For the first time since the attack, it happens – I truly and completely break down.
All at once, the emotions hiding within me decide to come out. I break down slowly, but before long their speed picks up until I’m no longer in control of myself. My hands cover my face and I cry into them. My shoulders shudder under the weight of all that I’ve been carrying, and the wonderful complications Ethan has put me through.
But still, I’m mad. There are some angry tears there, too. I can’t help it.
I clench my teeth and raise my hand up to him. I would never hit him, but there’s an energy rushing through me that I feel powerless to control.
Ethan seems to know this; he grabs my arm by the wrist and safely holds it. Together we fall to the ground, me falling to my knees in hysterics and him holding me as best he can.
He places his dad’s hand on the back of my head, at that now-familiar place at the base of my neck, as though he’s trying to protect me from hurting myself. And I feel it there, and I actually trust it there.
He touches his forehead to mine. I feel his breath against me, and it calms me down. I still can’t open my eyes, but I can clutch at his shoulder as the feelings pass.
When I do open my eyes, his own are there to meet me. And there, on the ground, I sink into him. And I kiss him again, the exact way I’ve been longing to for so long – slowly, and with the purpose of showing him how I�
��ve truly felt all this time. I kiss him because I realize I was wrong about him in so many ways; and I realize I was right, too. I realize what kind of person he truly is, now with a certainty I’ve never before known.
As the rain hits us, I let him kiss me back because I realize, finally, that he loves me, too.
And when his plush lips meet mine, it feels perfect and right. And for now, I trust what I feel.
I wake with the sun. Through the hotel room’s window, I can hear that it’s no longer raining, and judging by the brightness of it all, there doesn’t seem to be a cloud in the sky. I turn over in my sheets, snugged tight against them but managing to do it all the same.
The bed is small, but Ethan has managed to spend the night beside me. He’s facing me. His head is resting comfortably on a spare pillow, one arm under his head and the other straight against his side.
His large, muscular and still-dressed body takes up the majority of the mattress. Together, the two of us barely fit. And yet I somehow managed to sleep comfortably and without a care in the world.
He opens his eyes and catches me spying on him. I don’t know how long he’s been secretly awake, or even if that’s been the case at all; but now here he is, with me at last, and I smile and speak in a happy whisper: “My mom could find us here.” Not that I have anything to worry about, inside of myself; we haven’t done anything but lay here, and the thought of doing something inappropriate never even crossed my mind (though his, I can’t be certain), but still–it would be an unnecessary drama for her to find us here, and something I wouldn’t want to put her – or Ethan, for that matter – through.
“She got you your own room for a reason, right?”
I laugh. “Yeah. And I doubt that reason had anything to do with you.”
“Hey. That’s mean.”
He crept inside the room with me last night, late after I was sure my mom was already safely asleep in her room next door. We did a good job of it. We shut the door quietly behind us, and in an exhaustion that was now pleasant after all that’s happened lately, I crawled into bed. Ethan tucked me in, and I didn’t expect him to stay; but I was passed out and dreaming before I could even change out of my clothes and into pajamas and long before I had a chance to see him leave.
“I know,” he replies. His morning voice is just as soft as his gaze.
I give him a concerned look, but I try to make sure he knows it’s regretful. “She’s probably worried about me after what happened.” Which is my way of saying, she could be here any minute.
After what happened. What did happen? Oh yes. Ethan happened. The memories of the night before flood back into me, and for a moment, I can’t help but cringe.
Ethan places his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice in control and calm.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he somehow just sensed my brief moment of distress.
“It just sucks,” I say. “Bad. Do you think it’ll ever stop sucking?”
“You’re right, it sucks, and I don’t know if it’ll ever stop. But I know it can get better. I mean, sometimes shit just happens. But I think there’s always a reason for it.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “We’re just not supposed to understand it yet.”
“How can that be?” I’m now staring up at the ceiling, but all of my being is focused on him.
“It just is.”
I rest my head on my hand. “That’s a crappy answer. I’m not sure I can live with that.”
“Me either.”
It’s silent until we look at each other and laugh. Then I hug him, with more love than I’ve ever hugged anyone before, because he gets it.
He gets me.
And now he has my heart.
He rubs my shoulder, this time reassuringly with his thumb. “I’ll see you at school. We’ll get through this together, Avery. Remember, everyone would rather have it some other way.”
Then he leans forward, slowly, and as he kisses me once again, the painful memories wash out of me, out of him, between us and away.
Two weeks later…
Ethan
“Can I help you?”
A woman’s face peers back at me in the doorway of the house Avery and I are renting together. The woman is short. She’s wearing a dress suit and she’s clutching something to her chest.
“Oh,” she says, “are you…” She pauses to look down at the Ipad in her hands. “Ethan Harrington?”
“That’s me.”
“Then yes, you can help me. I’m from the Department of Corrections, and I’ve been handling your father’s case. May I come in?”
“Of course.” I step aside. “Help yourself to a seat.”
She sits on the sofa.
“Is there anything I can get you? Would you like a drink?”
“No, that’s alright, Mr. Harrington. Why don’t you take a seat?”
I sit across from her and sling my arm over the back of the sofa. “And what can I help you with? I’ve been through about a million interviews by now so I doubt I have any more information to offer.”
She shakes her head. “This isn’t about that, Mr. Harrington.” She scans her Ipad, her finger flicking at the screen. “It looks like a while back you underwent some lab work as part of our protocol, and that’s good. That’s exactly what you were supposed to do, and we appreciate it.”
“I think I remember that. Lots of cotton swabs and needs and stuff. That was, what, to rule me out or something, right?”
“Well, we are required to take some DNA for that reason, but we also run that DNA through a battery of tests.”
“Okay.” I shrug. “So, what? Am I sick or something?”
“No, no.” She clicks her Ipad off and sets it on the sofa next to her. “Mr. Harrington, there are more than a dozen precautionary tests we run on DNA during a criminal investigation while we prepare for trial, but one of the standard tests we run in cases such as this is genetic. Paternity. And in this case, your results have come back incompatible with your father’s.”
For a moment, I don’t speak. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, I can’t explain this for you, Mr. Harrington, but the testing doesn’t lie. Here,” she picks up her Ipad again, “is a copy of the lab results. I’m going to email them to you, alright?” She shrugs without looking up. “And if you like, you can share these results with your doctor. He’ll be able to take it from there.”
I hear her words but I can’t move.
“He may wish to run another test,” she continues casually, “in which case he can feel free to contact us for any samples he may need.” She makes one last loud tap on the screen and then looks up, smiling and holding the Ipad again to her chest. “Do you have any questions?”
I realize I’m staring and snap back to attention. “No. No, that was pretty clear.”
“Well, then there is one other thing. I just came from your mother’s house. I must say, when I broke the news to her it didn’t seem like much of a shock. Not like I see in you, anyway.” She pulls a folded pieces of paper out of her pocket and holds it out. “All she wanted was for me to wait for her to jot something down and for me to give it to you.”
I take it.
“Very well. Thank you, Mr. Harrington. It was a pleasure to meet you and I wish you the best of luck.”
She extends her hand and I slowly shake it.
I do my best to rise and walk her to the door, but the world feels like it’s going backwards.
“Good day,” she says, and she leaves.
“Thank you.”
The door closes, and I look at my hand still on the doorknob. I stand, stunned. Then I look at my palms, my wide, strong fingers that my father used to place against his as I grew bigger.
And here I always thought I had my dad’s hands.
“Who was that?”
Avery dabs at her damp hair with a towel, then tosses it onto the back of the sofa and combs her fingers through some tangles.
“That w
as…” I’m still in shock. “That was a cop. Someone handling my dad’s case.
She tenses at the topic. “And?”
“And she left me with this.” I hold up the paper. “It’s from my mom.”
“Okay, so let’s open it.”
She reaches for it, but I pull it away. “Are you sure you want to do this? Who knows what the hell could be in here.”
She huffs. “It’s from your mom, Ethan. Come on.”
She sits beside me. Together, we open the letter. Avery reads over my shoulder.
Son,
I should have known this would come out with the trial. I thought this message would be better passed on in writing. I hope you understand. From the moment you were born, I knew there would be a time and a place for this, and it turns out the time is now and the place is right where you are.
You deserve the truth, and to hear it from me, so here it is: I messed up. A lot. I was young, and when I married I was already pregnant. I didn’t tell anyone. Not even the man you call father.
I tried to tell you so many times, though. I almost came out with it the morning you went to visit him after the arrest, and I almost did, but I couldn’t take the thought of putting you through any more stress. I couldn’t do that to you. OK, I admit it – I couldn’t do it to myself.
Words can’t express this. Please call.
Mom
I could barely talk before. Now I can barely breathe.
“Holy shit,” says Avery. She thinks, her eyes trailing the floor. “Holy shit.”
“I don’t believe this.”
Avery takes the letter and re-reads it. “I do.”
I stand and pace the living room. Avery puts the letter aside and approaches.
“You know,” she says as she wraps her arms around my waist, “you’re right.”
I stop. “About what?”
“About things happening for a reason. Actually, we’ve all been right.”
I laugh. “What are you talking about, Avery?”
