Waiting For Ethan

by Diane Barnes

  Ethan untangles himself from me, stands, and pulls me to my feet. “You all right?” he asks.

  I reach down for the tube. “Again,” I yell, racing off to the rope tow that will drag us back to the top of the hill.

  Ethan catches up to me and pulls me into an embrace. “You’re fearless. I love it.” The entire way up the hill, all I’m thinking is I love it. Just one word away from the sentence I’ve been dreaming about him saying to me since middle school.

  When we get to the top, Ethan picks a lane at the end that is called the Speed Bump. He climbs into the back of the tube and stretches his legs out over the front. The only way for me to fit in there with him is to sit on his lap, so I do. It’s impossible not to notice that he is rock-solid under his ski pants. He positions his arms around my waist and rests his gloved hands on my outer thighs. As we wait for the attendant to push us, Ethan slides his fingers back and forth on my inner thigh. He presses his cold, wet mouth against my exposed earlobe. “I think when we’re done with this, I’ll be ready to collect on last week’s bet.”

  He’s so hard to figure out. When we’re out in a crowd, he acts like he can’t wait to be alone with me, but when it’s only the two of us at my place, he can’t wait to get out of there. Just an hour ago when he picked me up, he gave me a chaste kiss on the lips. “Do you want to sit down, have something to eat or drink?” I asked.

  He tucked his hands into his coat pockets. “I think we should go. Don’t want to run out of daylight.” It was just a little after one.

  Now he leans closer, his breath hot against the icy cold side of my face. “If you do a good job, I might even return the favor.” His fingers slide higher. All the way through my ski bib and jeans, I can feel my skin tingling. Ever since he touched me at the diner, I have been craving more. I finally understand the meaning of crazy with desire.

  “Ready?” the attendant asks.

  Ethan’s fingers stop moving. The sled takes off at a breakneck speed. Beneath me, Ethan’s hips rise and fall over each bump as I shriek with excitement. At the steepest part of the hill we hit a bump and lose control. Ethan and I are thrown overboard while the tube soars high into the air. I land facedown in a pile of snow while Ethan ends up on his backside. “You hurt?” he asks, rushing to my side.

  “I’m fine.”

  “We don’t have to do this anymore,” he says helping me to my feet.

  “Of course we do.”

  “No,” he says. “You’ve been a good sport long enough.” He walks toward an attendant to return our tube.

  I quickly make a few snowballs and toss them at his butt, but my aim is so bad that two connect with the back of his head. “What the—” He turns around just as another snowball whizzes by his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “We can’t let a hill beat us. Don’t you dare return that tube.” I’m already armed with another snowball, and I cock my arm.

  He drops the tube and holds up his arms. “I surrender.”

  Ninety minutes and twelve runs later, I can no longer feel my toes or fingers. Ethan’s lips are blue and the tip of his nose is bright red. “Had enough?” he asks.

  I nod, and we head inside the ski lodge, where we strip ourselves of our hats, gloves, ski pants, and jackets. I settle into a seat by the fire while Ethan goes to the bar to order us hot chocolates with butterscotch schnapps. A few minutes later, he makes his way across the crowded floor balancing two steaming hot beverages and a bowl of popcorn.

  “Thank you,” he says, sliding a mug topped with whipped cream in front of me. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long, but Leah would never go.” He pulls his cup closer and blows on it.

  I try to imagine Leah, but all I can see is a big ball of boringness loafing on the couch.

  “What is Leah like?” I ask, suddenly desperate to get a clear image of her.

  Ethan sips his drink. “She’s . . . I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Hey, let’s not talk about Leah.” He leans across the table and reaches for my hand. “I’d much rather hear about you.”

  We return to my apartment at six thirty. Ethan holds my hand tightly and leads me around the walkway in the dark. When we get to the top of the stairs, he takes the keys from me and unlocks the door. I enter, and he follows closely behind. I turn on the light in the kitchen, and we remove our jackets and gloves. I take a few steps toward the living room, expecting Ethan to follow. Instead he grabs my arm and spins me toward him. He eases me against the wall between the living room and the kitchen and kisses me. He keeps his hands on my shoulders, pinning me in place with my arms around his waist. We stand like this for a few minutes. He uses his tongue to separate my lips. Inside my mouth, his tongue gently explores while his hands begin to travel down my body. Slowly, he begins to thrust his tongue in and out of my mouth, and soon he is moving his hips against me in the same rhythm. I mimic his every motion.

  It’s crazy: We’re both fully dressed, yet every inch of my body is buzzing with energy. I don’t remember ever feeling this way before. We remain lost like this for several minutes. He grabs the bottom of my sweater and yanks it over my head. I unzip his sweatshirt, and he shrugs out of it while unsnapping my jeans. “Let’s move to the bedroom, babe.” He begins to walk, but I remain rooted against the wall, not sure I want things to move so quickly. “Please, babe.”

  He takes my hand in his and gently pulls me. We make it halfway down the hallway when Ethan’s phone rings. It’s not a normal ringtone. It’s a woman voice saying, “Pick up, honey. Pick up.”

  Honey? I pull my hand from his. He freezes and then slowly turns so he is facing me. His phone continues squealing, “Pick up, honey. Pick up.”

  “Leah,” he says. The ringing finally stops. “I didn’t change the ringtone.”

  “Why not?”

  He stiffens his shoulders and slowly exhales. “I just didn’t think of it. She never calls.” As if to prove him a liar, the phone starts speaking again. Ethan pulls it from his pocket. “Must be important,” he says while retreating to the kitchen.

  I remain standing in the hallway. “This isn’t a good time,” I hear him say. Then, “What happened? Leah?” A few seconds later. “Calm down, babe. He’s going to be fine.”

  Babe. Why is the soon-to-be ex-wife “babe”? I thought I was “babe.” My stomach contorts and I rush into the bathroom. I come out a few minutes later to find him sitting at the kitchen table staring at his lap. I slip back into my sweater and position myself in the seat across from him. Ethan looks up at me. “Brady’s missing,” he says.

  “The dog?”

  He nods. “She left him in the backyard while she was out. Came home, the gate was open. Brady’s gone.” He rubs the stubble on his chin. “Not sure what she expects me to do. Takes over three hours to get there.” He glances at his watch.

  “Has this happened before?”

  He shakes his head. “But she can’t latch the gate. I always have to do it.” He stands and grabs his jacket. “Gotta go.”

  “Are you driving there?”

  “I’m gonna make some calls. Get some friends in the area to search.” He embraces me quickly and rushes out the door.

  As I turn the lock, I wonder if Leah’s inability to work a latch will open the door for a reconciliation.

  Chapter 14

  The sound of sleet pelting the roof wakes me early Monday. I check my phone for messages from Ethan, but there are none. He drove to New Hampshire yesterday morning to look for Brady, but when we spoke at bedtime, the dog was still missing. Ethan promised to text if anything changed. All night, I tossed and turned, wondering where he was sleeping. Now I type him a quick message: Any luck? Thirty minutes later, I’m showered and dressed for work, but Ethan still hasn’t responded.

  Outside, my car is encapsulated in layers of ice. I struggle to get the key in the sleet-covered lock. I finally manage, but the door won’t open because it, too, is frozen. I brace my boot on the side of the car and pull with all my might. The door do
esn’t budge. I try again. I hear a loud snap and see the ice cracking apart. The door springs open, throwing me backward. The side of my face smacks against the frozen ground. I cry out and remain lying on the hard, cold ground. After a few seconds, I struggle to my feet. In the car, I look in the visor mirror. A big red welt appears just below my left eye. Excellent start to the week.

  Twenty minutes later, after chipping the sleet off my front and back windshields, I back out of my driveway. Still no word from Ethan. As I turn off my street, a sander going the other directions blasts my car. The salt and pebbles ping against my door. The side of the road I am driving on hasn’t been treated yet, and my car slips and slides at every corner. Finally, I make it to the highway, where I merge into an endless line of brake lights. I glance at my silent phone on the passenger seat every few minutes as the car inches forward. From behind, sirens approach. A few seconds later, a police car, fire truck, and ambulance pass in the breakdown lane. The traffic comes to a dead stop. I settle back into my seat. The DJ reads a list of school cancellations, and I change the station, pressing buttons until I land on a Kelly Clarkson song. I sing along. The driver in front of me flicks cigarette ashes out his window. The song ends, and now the DJ on this station starts to announce school closings.

  Several songs later, the traffic still isn’t moving but my phone finally rings. “He was at a neighbor’s a few streets over,” Ethan announces. “He didn’t have his tags. She didn’t know who he belonged to.”

  “Why wasn’t he wearing his tags?”

  “Leah, man. Took his collar off.” He sighs. “Who knows why?” The driver behind me blasts his horn. “What’s that?” Ethan asks.

  I tell him about my morning and the welt on my face. “Oh babe, I’m sorry.” I wince at his words, remembering how he called Leah the same thing, and again wonder where he spent last night. Would it make me sound overly jealous if I ask him? “How about I take you to dinner tonight to make up for your rough morning?” he asks.

  By lunchtime, the sleet has turned to a hard downpour. Because it’s so nasty, the cafeteria is more crowded than usual. Luci and I stand in line for the salad bar. A few feet in front of us, a skinny guy from accounting sneezes, spraying the cover protecting the lettuce and other ingredients. Luci and I exchange a look, return our plastic containers to the stack where we got them, and head for the deli.

  Cooper and Gail Germain are the last two in line. We step in behind them. Gail is bending Cooper’s ear, and neither notices us. “It took them over a week,” she says. “And almost every word was rewritten. Unnecessary edits.”

  Luci elbows me.

  “I’m sure they had their reasons,” Cooper says.

  Gail folds her arms across her chest. “It wasn’t any better. Just a week late.”

  I fight the urge to kick her. “I’m sure they enhanced it,” Cooper says. “Gina and Luci do a good job.”

  Luci clears her throat. Gail and Cooper both turn. I wave. Luci places her hands on her hips. “We didn’t just enhance it. We made it readable.” She looks directly at Gail. “You should take a remedial grammar class.”

  Gail starts to respond, but Cooper interrupts. “Gina, what happened to your face?” He steps toward me. Then, most unexpectedly, he raises his hand and touches my bruise. All the sound from the café disappears. He gently rubs the injury with the tips of his fingers. My legs feel wobbly. Why is Cooper Allen touching me? I rest my hand on Luci’s shoulder to keep my balance while stepping backward out of his reach.

  His ears redden. “Looks like it hurts,” he says.

  “It does,” I answer, but I can’t look at him.

  “Did you ice it?”

  I nod, still looking at the ground. I hear the guy behind the deli counter yell, “Next!” Gail says Cooper’s name, and a second later he’s ordering a roast beef sandwich.

  I finally look up. Luci’s studying me with her head cocked. “What?” I ask.

  “I think you know,” she says.

  I get home at six o’clock to find Ethan’s Jeep in my driveway. It’s angled so his headlights illuminate the area under the broken motion light. A ladder leans against the house, and he stands near the top removing the old bulb and screwing in a new one. I smile, thinking this is exactly something my imaginary Ethan would have done. As I make my way across the driveway and up the stairs to the landing, I notice the ground I’m walking on is covered with a blue pebble-like substance. An almost empty bottle of Ice Melt rests on the hood of Ethan’s car.

  He climbs down the ladder and embraces me on the walkway. “Hey, you.” He rubs my bruise with his thumb. “Poor baby,” he says as he kisses it. I hold him tightly, not wanting to let go, ever. “What do you say we head out to eat?” he asks as he pulls away from me to collapse his ladder. “I’m starving.”

  As we drive to the restaurant, he tells me about the search for Brady and the joy he felt when he saw him. “I took him on a really long walk this morning. It was hard to say good-bye.” The light in front of us turns yellow, and Ethan steps on the gas. I clutch the handle on the door. “I miss ’em so much,” he mumbles.

  “Wait, what?” I ask, not sure if he said him or them. He glances at me, but says nothing. “Who do you miss?” I ask, trying to make my voice as neutral as possible.

  “Brady,” he says quickly. “I miss Brady.” Now he’s right on the bumper of the small car in front of us.

  “Where did you stay last night?” The words are out before I even know I’m going to ask the question.

  He jerks the steering wheel, moving into the left lane, and zooms past the car in front of us. “In the guest room, Gina,” he answers with a tone that makes me feel as if I’ve been reprimanded. We drive in silence for the rest of the way to the restaurant. Ethan pulls in to the parking lot and kills the ignition. As I unfasten my seat belt, he places his hand just above my knee and squeezes. “Hey,” he says. “I told Leah about you.”

  “What did you say?”

  He leans toward me and pulls me into his arms. “Told her I met a great girl.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that makes me want to skip dinner and head back to my apartment. I swear he knows it, too, because when he pulls away, he gives me that cocky smile. “I have to eat,” he says. “I haven’t had anything all day.” I climb out of the Jeep wondering if he can read my thoughts or if I actually spoke them out loud.

  Mariachi music plays in the lobby as we enter and another party waits to be seated. Ethan and I pull off our gloves and unzip our coats. I realize I’m still wearing my work access badge around my neck and lift it over my head. Ethan takes it from me and studies it silently. “Wow,” he finally says. “You look . . .” He abruptly stops speaking and hands me back the badge.

  “I look what?”

  “Never mind,” he says.

  I study the photo. I can tell by how frizzy my hair is that it was raining the day the picture was taken. The photographer zoomed in so close on my face that you can almost count the pores on my nose. “What an ugly picture.”

  Ethan shakes his head. “No, Gina. You’re beautiful.” He kisses me on the cheek. “You could never look ugly.” His words sound sincere, but something about his expression looks haunted.

  The hostess is ready to seat us and leads us to a booth against the back wall, next to a family with three small children. A toddler in a booster seat points at my face. “Boo-boo,” he says.

  “Yes, boo-boo.” I smile.

  “Don’t point, Aidan,” his mother says and lowers the boy’s small hand back to the table.

  I slide into the booth opposite Ethan and study his face as he reads the menu. Our kids will probably have brown eyes like me. I hope they get his straight, shiny hair and the cleft in his chin. Ethan looks up at me and smiles. Please let them have my teeth.

  “I can’t even remember the last time I had Mexican,” he says. “Leah hates it.” Just like that, the image of Ethan and my children vanishes. I must frown beca
use Ethan closes his menu. “Shit.” He says it so loudly that the mother at the next table gives us a dirty look. “Jack warned me not to talk about Leah. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” I lie as the busboy arrives with chips and salsa.

  Ethan reaches for a chip and soaks it in the dip, which leaves a trail across the table as he lifts the chip to his mouth. “So, tell me about other advice from Jack,” I say as Ethan chews.

  He swallows. “I can’t give those secrets away.” He winks.

  The waitress arrives to take our order. She’s a blond, fair-skinned girl of about nineteen or twenty. Her name tag says Rosalita, but I’d bet anything her name’s Britney or Taylor or something like that. She reads the specials from a notepad. “Chicken in a chocolate mole sauce,” she says, pronouncing it like a bump on the skin or the animal.

  “Mo-lay,” I correct.

  She writes something in her notebook and turns to Ethan. “And for you?”

  “No,” I say. “I don’t want the mole. I was just—Never mind. I’ll have chicken fajitas.”

  She scribbles something and turns back to Ethan. He orders shrimp fajitas and jumbo strawberry margaritas for each of us.

  “Tell me about Jack,” I say when she leaves.

  Ethan smiles. “Jack’s the man. Always has my back. He was the best man at my . . .” He shakes his head. “Sorry.”

  The waitress returns with our drinks. The glasses are filled so high that the contents overflow and drip onto the table. I take a large sip to make room in the cup. All I can taste is tequila. For a few minutes, we sip in silence.

  “Has Jack ever been married?” I ask, not sure why I’m so curious about this guy.

  “No way,” Ethan says. “He’s had, like, two girlfriends his whole life. Leah set him up with both of them.” He removes the straw from his drink and takes a huge gulp. “Do you have any friends you can introduce him to?”

  The only single friend I have is Luci, and I don’t want her breaking this guy’s heart. “None that would be a match.”