On top of all that, his parents were filthy rich. His father was a former Wall Street banking executive who became CEO of some high-tech company I can’t remember the name of. His parents were always flying off in a private jet to Switzerland, Hong Kong or Dubai.
Ethan’s family owned a penthouse apartment in New York City and spent summers at their second home in Cape Elizabeth, just outside Portland. It was a white-painted Palladian style mansion with Greek columns and a gigantic veranda that overlooked the sea that lay beyond a sprawling, sloping green lawn.
The first time I’d met Ethan, I had no notion of any of that. All I saw was a hot guy in shorts who was arguing with his equally hot girlfriend on a summer afternoon, during a crowded festival downtown. A band was playing on one of the rooftop patios and a street parade had just finished. It was boiling hot and Jenn and I were on our own, wandering in and out of the Exchange Street shops. We’d stopped to buy popsicles from an ice cream truck parked at the intersection and couldn’t help but hear the shouting in the lineup behind us. It was mostly the girl, who seemed very aggressive.
“I don’t know what your problem is,” she spat. “It’s just a party. Everyone’s going to be there.”
“I’m not in the mood,” the guy said, directly behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to get a look at them in my peripheral vision. The guy was standing unsettlingly close to me. He practically spoke in my ear.
The girl shoved him and he bumped into me.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No problem,” I replied, and shared a playfully scandalized look with Jenn, who appeared more than a little unnerved by the whole situation.
“You just don’t want to go because Jeff will be there,” the girl said.
“It has nothing to do with Jeff,” he replied.
“Yes, it does, and you know it. You can’t stand Jeff because he came on to me that time.”
Still listening discreetly over my shoulder, I was aware of the guy letting out a resigned sigh. “I really don’t care.”
“Oh? You don’t care?” she shouted. “Is that how it is? Then maybe I should give Jeff my phone number tonight. Would you care then?”
“Do whatever you want,” the guy replied with a clear note of indifference.
I shut my eyes and shook my head because I knew he shouldn’t have said that. It was the sort of thing that would set that girl off like a firecracker.
Sure enough, she shoved him again and he bumped into me. A second time.
“Geez, relax, Corrine,” he scolded. “You’re making a scene.”
“I don’t care!” she ranted.
Poor Jenn was white as a sheet by that point. She took hold of my hand and squeezed it.
The outraged girl backed out of the line. “That’s it, Ethan! I’m done with you! You wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit you in the ass. I’m leaving!”
Ethan folded his arms across his chest, ignored her and faced forward. I felt his anger and frustration like a hot radiator, three inches from my back.
“Seriously?” the girl shouted from the middle of the street, spreading her arms wide. Everyone in the lineup turned to look at her, including Jenn and me. “You’re just going to let me go? You’re not going to say anything or try to stop me? Because I promise you Ethan, this is it. It’s the end. No second chances.”
The guy named Ethan continued to face forward with his arms folded at his chest, staring up at the list of ice cream flavors next to the service window.
Our eyes locked and held and I felt a spark of excitement at how impossibly gorgeous he was with that dimpled chin, chiseled cheekbones and tousled, sun-bleached hair.
We shared something in that moment—a look of intimate commiseration.
“Sorry about that,” he whispered with an apologetic shrug.
“It’s okay,” I replied. “It’s not your fault.”
His girlfriend must have been watching because she suddenly stomped back toward us with her sights set on me this time. “Hey you! What are you saying to him?”
“Nothing,” I defensively replied, facing forward again.
She stood beside me. “I saw you talking to him.” Then she shoved me and I stumbled into Jenn.
My temper flared. I wasn’t used to getting pushed around, so I retaliated by taking a threatening step toward her. “Try that again. I dare you!”
Jenn backed away.
Ethan stepped between us, took the girl by the elbow and quickly ushered her into the shade around the side of the ice cream truck.
“Leave her be,” he said. “She was just standing there, minding her own business.”
The girl inclined her head to check me out from head to foot. “Minding her own business… Yeah, right. What are you looking at?” she asked me.
“Not much,” I replied with a big dose of attitude because this girl was seriously grating on my nerves.
Her cheeks flushed and Ethan turned to look at me with a mixture of shock and amusement.
I was so wrapped up in how handsome he was—and how badly I wanted to shove Corrine’s face into the side of the ice cream truck—that I didn’t notice Jenn backing into the intersection.
Only the scream of a woman across the street alerted me to the fact that a car was coming, and my sister was standing right in its path.
Chapter Nine
I didn’t see what happened until it was too late, but I’ll never forget the sound of steel colliding with bone. It was an abrupt thunk, followed by an unnatural silence.
“Jenn!” I ran into the street where she’d been knocked down on the pavement. The car stopped and the driver—a young woman with two children in the backseat—got out.
I knelt down beside Jenn. She rolled onto her back and blinked up at the sky in a daze.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I think so.” Her voice was weak and shaky, but thank God, she was conscious.
The driver leaned over me and covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry! Is she all right? She came out of nowhere!”
Another woman knelt down beside me. “I’m a nurse. Can I help?”
“Yes, please,” I replied, vaguely aware of Ethan whipping out a cell phone behind me and calling 9-1-1. That was significant at the time because none of my friends had cell phones.
“Where does it hurt, sweetheart?” the nurse gently asked.
“My arm,” Jenn replied, sitting up.
“Anywhere else?”
Jenn shook her head. “No.”
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Jennifer Nichols.”
The nurse took hold of Jenn’s wrist to examine it, but Jenn cried out and cradled it close to her chest.
“She’ll definitely need to have this X-rayed,” the nurse said to me. The look in her eyes told me it was most likely broken. “Are you sure you don’t have pain anywhere else, sweetheart?” she asked Jenn.
“No. Just my arm.”
Ethan knelt down beside me as well. “An ambulance is coming.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Don’t thank me. I feel like this is all my fault.”
“It’s not,” I told him, noticing Corrine walking off down the street, totally oblivious while she stopped to check out some leather purses on an outdoor rack.
“I’m really sorry,” Ethan said.
“Honestly, it’s not your fault. Thanks for calling the ambulance.”
He offered his phone to me. “Do you need to call your parents or anything?”
While the nurse helped Jenn sit up, I took the phone from Ethan. “Yes, thank you. It’s my grandparents, actually. We’re staying with them for the summer.”
I felt his eyes roam over my face. He studied me intently with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
As I dialed my grandparents’ phone number, I blushed under the scrutiny of his gaze and had to turn away in order to explain what had happened. I was still on the phone when the ambulance,
which had been stationed just around the corner for the festival, pulled up in front of us.
* * *
After the police spoke to us about what happened, I got into the back of the ambulance with Jenn. The paramedics put her on a stretcher because they didn’t want to take any chances. Ethan stood on the curb and raised a hand to say good-bye to me as they closed the doors between us.
I wondered, with a pang of disappointment, if I would ever see that boy again. I didn’t even know his last name. Why hadn’t I asked him?
It was a short trip to the hospital, but the ER was busy, so we had to wait to see a doctor. As soon as they situated us in a private bay with blue curtains all around, I left Jenn alone for a few minutes so that I could search for my grandparents, who should have been there by then. To my surprise, I spotted Ethan and some other guy walking in through the sliding glass doors.
They stopped and looked around. As soon as our eyes met, I felt a jolt of electricity ripple through me, followed by a rush of nervous butterflies. Was Ethan here for us?
For me?
I waved at him from a spot near the reception desk, and he approached.
“Hey,” he said. “How’s your sister?”
“She’s all right,” I replied. “Still waiting to get X-rayed.”
“They’ll take good care of her here,” Ethan said. Then he gestured to his friend. “This is Chris.”
“I didn’t see what happened,” Chris said. “I was on the roof with the band, but Ethan told me about it.”
“Are you a musician?” I asked.
“No, but my brother plays the drums. I was just helping out.”
My grandparents walked in just then and hurried to the reception desk.
“Gram!” I called out. They turned, spotted me and came running over.
“Where’s Jenn?” Gram asked, pulling me into her arms. “Is she all right?”
A clerk from the desk followed them. “You’re the grandparents? Your granddaughter is doing fine, but I’ll need one of you to fill out some forms.”
“Can we see her?”
“Of course. She’s right through here. Follow me this way.”
While the clerk led them away, I remained with Ethan and Chris for a few minutes. “It was nice of you to come,” I said. “I guess it’s been one of those days.”
“Tell me about it,” Ethan replied. “Again, I’m really sorry. My girlfriend’s a jerk.”
“She’s not your girlfriend anymore,” Chris reminded him with a nudge to the ribs.
Ethan gave me a look and nodded. “Like you said—it’s been one of those days.”
I couldn’t help myself. I spoke my mind without holding anything back. “You’re probably better off without her. Not that it’s any of my business or anything.”
The corner of Ethan’s mouth curled up in a grin. “It kind of is your business, considering what happened today.”
I looked down at my unpainted toenails and plastic flip flops, and took a breath to try and calm the rush of adrenalin through my veins, from just standing there, talking to that incredibly handsome boy.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said, urging me to look up.
“It’s Sylvie. Sylvie Nichols.” I held out my hand and he shook it.
“I’m Ethan Foster. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
He smiled at me, which caused my cheeks to flush with heat. And somehow in that moment I knew…my life was never going to be the same, and it was going to be a summer I’d never forget.
Chapter Ten
August 4, 2015
I sat up in bed, switched on the light and wondered if I should go to the kitchen and make some hot milk or something—because obviously this wasn’t working. All I’d managed to do was lie in bed and reminisce about the first time I’d met Ethan. I hadn’t fallen asleep yet. Maybe I was concentrating too hard. Or maybe I just wasn’t tired. I was still on Mountain Time after all.
With a sigh of defeat, I decided to get up and watch some television, but first I’d make some chamomile tea which usually helped me fall asleep. I pulled on a sweater and padded downstairs to the kitchen.
After setting the bright yellow kettle on the stovetop burner, I turned the knob and stood over it in a strange sort of daze, waiting for it to boil. Again, memories flooded my mind and I continued to think of those early days with Ethan—before I knew what was coming.
* * *
He asked for my phone number that first day in the hospital, and he called later that night to ask me out. Naturally, I said yes, but I had to do a lot of convincing to get my grandparents to agree. I was only sixteen and had never been out on a real date before—certainly not with an eighteen-year-old who drove a car.
Gram called my parents to ask their permission. My mother wanted to speak with me directly, so I was forced to beg and plead and explain that I was old enough and responsible enough to go out on dates with boys. I also described how helpful Ethan had been at the accident. I didn’t mention that it was partly his fault that Jenn had wandered into the street. By some stroke of luck, my mother never learned of that. And my parents said yes.
The following evening, Ethan arrived at the door dressed in khaki shorts, a black Ralph Lauren polo shirt, and Ray Ban sunglasses. He introduced himself to my grandparents and promised to have me home by 11:00. We walked out of the house and got into his silver Porsche, which was parked at the curb.
I asked what his parents did for a living. He told me about his father’s career as a CEO and former Wall Street banker and I pondered the notion that his family might be as rich as Croesus.
Ethan then took me out to Cape Elizabeth for supper at The Lobster Shack, where we sat at one of the picnic tables overlooking the Atlantic. We talked about everything from school to music, books, movies and our families, while watching the tourists struggle to figure out how to crack open their lobster shells. Ethan kindly rose from his seat to help a young family with three children, and they thanked him profusely.
Afterwards, we went for a walk along the rocky shoreline and drove up to the lighthouse to check out the museum, which I hadn’t visited in years.
It was the first time I’d ever felt such an immediate, deep connection to another person I’d only just met. We “clicked” on every level, and when he drove me home and it was time to say goodnight, I didn’t want the night to end. I wanted to keep sitting in his car until dawn, just talking.
Or maybe doing something more…
Everything about him—his mesmerizing green eyes, his toned, muscular body and manly hands on the steering wheel—made my young, innocent heart pound with excitement and ache with desire. It was intense, impassioned first love, and though I knew I wasn’t the first girl Ethan had ever taken out on a date, I knew there was something special between us. Even that first night, I could feel it in the way he looked at me, in the way he responded to the things I said.
At 11:00, when it was time for me to go inside, he leaned close in the dim light of his car, took my face in his hands and kissed me.
It was my first kiss and it was everything I could have imagined—soft, warm, and oh, so much more. As his hand slid down the side of my neck and cupped my shoulder, I lost myself in a swirling haze of longing that shook my entire world.
Was this really happening? I wondered breathlessly. Was I truly kissing this unbelievably beautiful boy in the front seat of his car outside my grandparents’ house?
We barely knew each other, yet as he kissed me, I felt as if we were meant to be together. I believed it with all my heart.
To this day, I still believe it.
* * *
The next eight weeks of that summer were pure bliss…full of romantic walks on the beach, bonfires with Ethan’s friends—Chris, a local boy, and his girlfriend, Jean, who was far nicer than Corrine. The four of us went everywhere together. We went swimming in the river where Chris’s family had a cabin in the woods. We hiked. If it rained we went to a ma
tinee at the theater. Ethan and Chris even came over to help my grandfather clean out his garage one Sunday afternoon.
But when it was just the two of us—Ethan and me, alone—we kissed and made out in the back seat of his car, or under the stars at the lake. I was a good girl then—still innocent and unworldly about certain physical activities—and to Ethan’s credit, he never pressured me to go all the way. He stopped when I asked, though I knew it was difficult and frustrating for him.
This, I understood, because it was frustrating for me, too.
It was the most magical and romantic summer of my life.
Except for one thing.
Ethan hadn’t introduced me to his parents. I hadn’t even set foot inside his house, and that troubled me.
Sometimes I wonder if, perhaps, I shouldn’t have pushed so hard to meet them. Maybe if I hadn’t, things might have turned out differently.
But there I was, standing in my grandmother’s kitchen making tea, and doing it again—always looking to the past, regretting the choices I’d made, and wishing I had done things differently.
Chapter Eleven
August 4, 2015
Why is it, when we’re young, we think we have all the time in the world?
As I poured hot water over the tea-leaf strainer and breathed in the comforting, rising chamomile-scented steam, I contemplated this question and wished I’d known then how to appreciate the present more.
Or maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference, because I know better now, don’t I? Yet there I stood, not really appreciating the moment. All I could do was think of the past and wish I were back there.
But you can never go back. You can’t change the past.
Unless, of course, you’re in a lucid dream…
Picking up my cup, I set my strainer in the sink and carried my tea to the living room to turn on the television. Since my goal was to go to sleep eventually, I decided to sit in the dark and cuddle up under a blanket.
The Color of Heaven - 09 - The Color of Time Page 3
