Relationship Status (Ethan & Wyatt)

by K.A. Mitchell

  Two weeks later we sat with Owen in the sunny lounge at the Riverview Rehabilitation Center. I’d have thought it was a freaky coincidence he was recovering here after being hurt at Riverview Park if there weren’t about a hundred places named Riverview in Pittsburgh. I guess three rivers made for a lot of views. You probably could see the river from these windows, in the winter when the trees were all bare. It probably was nice in the fall too. At the moment, though, it was unrelenting green leaves and late July sunshine, and I was bored.

  Wyatt and Owen were signing too fast for me to follow, and Christine was at work. I glanced around the room at other patients who were in way worse shape than Owen, got depressed, and resolved to always wear my seat belt, bike helmet, use crosswalks and look both ways for sixty pounds of running dog before stepping off a curb.

  “That’s great.” Wyatt nudged me.

  “What is?”

  Owen smiled at me as if he knew it wasn’t only my lack of fluency in ASL that had me staring off into space, wishing I could trade places with the pigeon on the windowsill.

  “They’re recommending he get discharged early. Maybe tomorrow if the doctor signs off on it.”

  Saturday. Not that I was doing anything special besides working two to six at the call center. “That is great.” I knew Owen had been working hard with the physical therapist to get back on his feet as soon as possible. So far he was only able to do range of motion exercises in his wheelchair as he still couldn’t put weight on the leg.

  Owen tapped my arm and signed slowly.

  I tried to follow along. My woman—no, wait—my mom gave him a...dimple holder. An F-cheek bra cup? I mouthed the possible answers, feeling as if I’d stumbled into a PG-version of Cards Against Humanity.

  Owen, reading my lips, laughed.

  Wyatt said, “Your mom sent him a fruit basket.”

  “Oh. Cool.”

  Thank you. Thank her.

  I will. That was just showing future tense, which I remembered how to do.

  I had news. “Speaking of my mom—”

  “Hang on a sec. Gotta pee.” He waved the toilet sign and left the lounge.

  I didn’t think he was inviting me to sneak off for a quickie, though it wouldn’t be our first time in a single-occupant bathroom. Actually, I figured he might check in with the nurses about Owen’s discharge as he avoided the less-than-fun-filled-memories topic of my mom.

  Owen and I looked at each other for a minute, then he signed, I like you.

  I was pretty sure I had that one. I like you, I answered.

  He nodded. Good for Wyatt. Wyatt happy.

  I wasn’t sure if he was simplifying for me or if that was just the way the grammar worked.

  Owen went on. Bad... He moved his index finger in a circle.

  I worked at that, but he had to finger-spell it for me. Slowly. Alone.

  Owen made the sign for deaf, then pointed to his eyes and hair. Angry. Alone. He shook his head. Bad.

  This was much easier when I was following the context. Wyatt did feel like Waardenburg was a reason to isolate himself, which wasn’t good, though given what had happened to him I couldn’t blame him.

  You make him happy.

  As I translated that for myself, I had to swallow and give a quick look at the trees again.

  I want to.

  He asked me about Wyatt’s driving lessons. He says you good teacher.

  I spelled out, Problem parking with stick shift.

  He nodded. Maybe Christine’s car.

  “Hey, what are we talking about?” Wyatt lightly tapped my shoulder when he came back. I turned to study him.

  He wasn’t the same guy I’d met ten months ago. That guy would have kept his hands in his hoodie pocket, hunched down and invisible.

  And when I answered, “You,” he’d have snarled and walked away instead of ducking his head to hide under his bangs.

  “Okay?”

  Driving, Owen said, then added a quick couple signs.

  Maybe. Aloud Wyatt said, “I’m not sure I’d be ready to take the test before the end of summer.”

  Yes. I think yes. I jumped in eagerly.

  Owen smiled. Teacher says yes.

  He’s biased. Wyatt made a blocking sign.

  I copied it, adding not.

  Owen just smiled.

  “Oh, the end of summer. That reminds me...” I must have said that really loud because Wyatt and Owen weren’t the only ones looking at me.

  I lowered my tone. My mom asked Wyatt—”specifically invited you,” I added to Wyatt, “to come to the beach.” I could do come but had to spell beach.

  Owen showed me the sign, which made sense because it looked like waves.

  I thought of how Wyatt had asked me to drive us to Atlantic City so he could see the ocean and got so excited I forgot to sign. “They switched the date they usually go to the week before we go back to school, so I, so we could join them. I asked and my mom said we would be sharing a room. They rent a house in Stone Harbor. It’s just us, not the cousins. It’s only a block from the ocean. Owen will be home and maybe even walking by then.”

  Owen adopted a stern face and indicated Wyatt, You will...was that travel?...to the beach.

  Wyatt gave me hellaciously evil side-eye. “We’ll see.” To his uncle he said, Maybe.

  Chapter Ten

  Wyatt

  I called Christine after I got out of work Saturday morning to see if Uncle Owen was going home. I figured since Ethan was going to use the car to go out to the call center in Edgewood, he could drive me over there first and pick me up later. I could help Christine set things up for Uncle Owen living downstairs for the next six weeks.

  “The doctor didn’t sign off. Apparently he was running a fever last night.” Her voice became indistinct, then I heard another woman’s voice. A nurse? A physical therapist? “And this morning.” She sighed, sounding more frustrated than worried.

  “So tomorrow then?”

  “We’ll have to see. I’m guessing they’ll keep him at least until Monday.”

  “Ethan and I will come over tomorrow to help you move the furniture around.”

  “I’d say you don’t have to, but I’m really grateful you offered and am totally going to take you up on that. If Owen’s not coming home, I should go into work. Is three thirty too late for you?”

  I told her it wasn’t, and we hung up. I’d just made the transfer to the bus on the way home when she called me.

  “His fever is higher.”

  “How high?”

  “One oh three point five. They’re worried about an infection.”

  “What are they doing for it?”

  “He’s allergic to penicillin, so they’re trying something else. If it goes to one oh four, they’re going to send him back to the hospital.” All at once she sounded tired and there were tears in her voice.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I hopped off at the next stop and called Ethan.

  The next two days weren’t fun, but I had to admit, they sucked less because of Ethan. He kept me and Christine fed and hydrated and our electronics charged. Most of all, he was there. He let Christine squeeze his hand and freak out, and sat next to me without talking.

  Non-stop IVs full of antibiotics weren’t enough and they had to do more surgery to remove dead tissue. Uncle Owen was out of it most of the time, and Christine was a wreck. Fortunately, he’d given permission for her to authorize treatment before his first surgery. She had me sit in on all the consultations with the doctors. I felt adult and included and totally shitty because of the reason. When they took him in for the debridement surgery, she hugged me and cried.

  I reached up to pat her back gently, feeling clumsy and stupid. What d
id I know about being there for someone else? I didn’t have any experience at it. Ethan met my eyes over her shoulder, all sympathetic brown eyes and worried mouth, and I thought of something to say.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I told her. She cried harder. “He’ll be up and stomping around soon enough.”

  She laughed a little at that.

  Ethan nodded at me and gave me a thumbs-up. Maybe I could get the hang of being in a family.

  On August first, Uncle Owen was discharged home to his newly rearranged downstairs. Insurance paid for a visiting nurse once a day. We were both at their house a lot. The ACLU required Ethan to do a couple of nighttime and weekend events, so Ethan had had to quit the call center job. It could have been worse, but our rent for the month was already paid and we ate a lot of meals at Uncle Owen’s.

  The Thursday after Uncle Owen came home, I had just left Travers and was waiting for Ethan to pick me up downtown when my phone rang.

  It wasn’t a number either my phone or I recognized.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. Wyatt, this is Jenna Monroe. Ethan’s mother.”

  Shock rattled through me, and the panic sweeping in its wake almost dropped me on the pavement. He’d been in an accident. Why else would she—

  “Ethan’s fine. I’m sorry. I should have said.”

  Relief left me more weak-kneed and I stumbled into the bus shelter to sit. “How did you—”

  “Your breathing. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Oh.” I really had no idea why Ethan’s mother would be calling me, unless she expected my personal thanks for the fruit basket. The tangerines had been great but that seemed a little much, even for her.

  “How is your uncle doing?”

  “He’s home now, but they say it will be a long recovery.”

  “Please give him my best.”

  I nodded because I was still dazed. Then said, “I will.”

  “I know we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sure at nineteen you think of yourselves as adults, but it’s hard for a parent not to be protective. Ethan hasn’t always made the best choices.”

  Well, if she was talking about Blake, we could agree on that. Though if Ethan hadn’t followed him to Coborn, I’d never have met him. There wasn’t anything for me to say that wouldn’t be rude, so I kept my mouth shut.

  She didn’t need me to, because she went on, “But it’s clear this summer has been good for Ethan.”

  The weather? Of course she wouldn’t say I was good for him. “He’s worked hard. They really like him at the ACLU.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  Right. Her connections had gotten him the internship after all.

  “I called because I wanted to personally invite you to join us at the shore. Ethan says you like the ocean. I want you to know that you are very welcome to stay with us, with Ethan, anytime.”

  It wasn’t an apology for shuffling me off to the guest room last Christmas, but it was a start. Not that I was ever going to fit in with the Monroes. I saw the Civic at the light and stepped out of the bus shelter.

  For an instant, I forgot about the stomach-churning awkwardness of this phone call. Because Ethan was a few steps away. And I could put up with his stuck-up mother for how good it felt to roll over and hold him at night.

  “I hope we’ll be seeing you soon,” Mrs. Monroe said.

  I waved to Ethan, and the Civic pulled over to the curb. “I have to go. Thank you for inviting me. I’ll let you know.”

  The next Friday, both our internships ended. Ethan announced that I was ready to drive the whole way over to Uncle Owen’s house, traffic, bridges and hills included. Despite the a/c, my hands sweated as we drove up Lafayette, knowing I’d have to stop and make a turn at the top.

  “You’ve got this,” Ethan assured me as I braked and put the car in first.

  A car approached behind me, doubling my anxiety about rolling down backward. I made the quick switch from break to gas and letting up on the clutch with my left hand tight on the wheel. We lurched up and around the corner and I didn’t hit anything, so that was a plus.

  We were spending the whole day there. Christine had used up all her vacation and sick time, but still hated leaving Uncle Owen alone all day. I knew Christine was stressed out about how Uncle Owen would get to physical therapy once the doctor said he could start that.

  I had a key now so we just walked in. Uncle Owen was in his wheelchair in the living room, the cooler of drinks and sandwiches Christine packed for him was on the coffee table.

  He greeted us but his face looked thin and tired. He wasn’t doing as well as he had before the infection. He wasn’t even pissed off about what he couldn’t do for himself. I knew Christine was worried. I was too. He dozed most of the morning.

  I came back from the bathroom to find Ethan on the couch, looking at classes for his new major. He gleefully pointed out the lack of math courses. “Wait.” He peered at his laptop screen. “What the fuck is Statistics and why do I need it?”

  “Save it for next year,” I suggested.

  “Only if you promise not to break up with me before then.”

  I knew he meant to be funny, but it bugged me that he still thought I’d be the one to give up. I paced a little, trying not to wake up Uncle Owen. “You could just as easily dump me.”

  “Why would I after I—” His mouth snapped shut on whatever he’d been about to say.

  “After what?”

  “After all this.” He waved his hand at Uncle Owen and his wheel chair.

  “What do you mean?” But I knew. None of this was how Ethan had wanted to spend his summer. And despite his mom’s personal invitation, I knew there was no way I could spend a week at the shore when my family needed me. Ethan had given up the ocean and hanging out with Makayla and parties and amusement parks and ended up spending what little time he wasn’t at work or his internship at the hospital because I was there.

  It dragged on me like a backpack full of text books, a weight that made my neck and shoulders ache. He’d given up all that for me, and I didn’t have anything to give back.

  “I didn’t ask you to do all that. Be here and at the hospital.”

  He stared at me. “You didn’t have to. Where else would I be? At the apartment without you?”

  Perversely, that made me madder. “You could be somewhere enjoying your summer.”

  Ethan closed his laptop and put it to the side. “Where is this coming from?”

  I hadn’t known until he asked me. And I couldn’t tell him now when I was all pissed off. Because it wasn’t his fault and he had been doing everything a boyfriend—a partner—should do.

  I shook my head. “I’m in a bad mood. You can leave and go do stuff, then come back and pick me up.”

  “You drove,” he tried with a wink.

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s go upstairs and talk.”

  I glanced at my sleeping uncle. “He’s still deaf.”

  “Yeah, but I feel rude talking over him.”

  I trudged up the stairs and pointed Ethan at the guest room where I slept when I visited. I felt shitty enough that the closed door and horizontal surface didn’t tempt me at all.

  But maybe it would put off the inevitable. “So you just want to talk?” I sat on the bed.

  Ethan was the one pacing now. “Please just tell me. It’s something really bad, I know from how you’re acting.”

  I didn’t want to tell him like this. I was angry, and he was in hyper-pushy mode.

  “Ethan.” I put all the warning I could into his name. I loved saying his name. I loved saying it over and over when he fucked me. Sometimes I swore it was the only word I could remember.

  His begging puppy eyes did me in. No, not begging. Wounded. And I was goin
g to hurt him a lot more.

  “I swear I just decided this right now.” I said it like I was already apologizing.

  Ethan froze mid pace. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so still. He waited and there was nothing to do but finish.

  “I’m not going back to Coborn in the fall.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ethan

  Of all the things I expected, and believe me, I’d run through a lot of scary possibilities in the last nanosecond—I met someone else, I want to see other people, I think I’m actually straight, I don’t love you anymore—this wasn’t something I saw coming.

  “You’re dropping out?”

  “No. I’m going to take the semester off. Christine’s going to lose her job if she takes off more time, and someone needs to take care of Uncle Owen while he’s recovering. Plus, he’s going to need a driver to all his physical therapy appointments.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I suppose it’s my fault for teaching you to drive. Can I take it back?”

  “Ethan.”

  There was always so much feeling in the way he said my name. Exasperated, affectionate, horny, desperate. I didn’t want to hear any of that now.

  “Your uncle isn’t going to like this. He wants you to finish school.”

  “And I will. It’s just a semester. I’ll get my deposits back and reenroll for spring.

  Just a semester, he said. As if four months apart was no big deal.

  I cleared my throat but the words still came out thick. “From personal experience I can tell you absence does not make the heart grow fonder.”

  Wyatt shot off the bed. “Fuck it, Ethan! I’m not Blake.”

  “I know.”

  We were shouting in each other’s faces. If Owen wasn’t deaf, we might have knocked him out of his chair.

  “Yeah, you say you know, but you act like I’m going to do the same thing.”

  It was a long time to get by on sexting and phone sex, even with video apps. Maybe there hadn’t been much temptation on Coborn’s campus, but Pittsburgh was full of guys like Allan who were available and there.