Waiting For Ethan

by Diane Barnes

  “How can you say that when you haven’t even met him?” Ethan asks. From across the restaurant I hear the sizzling of vegetables on a hot plate approaching. “My friends aren’t good enough for yours?”

  I think he’s kidding, but I’m not really sure. “I only have one single friend,” I say. “She’s still recovering from her divorce.”

  He slumps in his seat but doesn’t say anything.

  The waitress arrives and places the sizzling fajita vegetables in front of Ethan. Behind her, the busboy deposits a plate with chicken mole and brown rice in front of me. “I ordered the chicken fajitas,” I say.

  Rosalita consults with her notepad. “Says here chicken mole.”

  “Mo-lay,” the busboy and I correct.

  “Right, that’s what I gave you,” our waitress says.

  I exhale. “Never mind. I’ll eat this.”

  “So,” Ethan says after they leave. “Come over Saturday. You can meet Jack. I’ll cook you dinner, and if it goes well, breakfast, too.”

  I laugh. “Did you really just use that cheesy line on me?” I really am horrified.

  “Pretty bad, huh?” Ethan hangs his head.

  “Terrible.”

  “Cut me some slack,” he says, assembling his fajita. “I’m brand spanking new to this dating thing.”

  Chapter 15

  Eight fifteen in the morning has become my favorite part of the day. That’s what time Ethan calls. Usually I’m merging off the highway and onto the long, curvy single lane road that winds around the reservoir to my office park. Typically Ethan is in line at the drive-through at Dunkin’ Donuts. He gets a box of munchkins and four medium coffees for him and the three other guys on his construction crew. This week they are renovating a kitchen on the south shore.

  “The lady says she’s going to cook us all a gourmet dinner when it’s done,” he says. “She’s pretty cool.” He mumbles something that sounds like “keep the change.” “She gave me a recipe for chicken potpie. I’m going to make it for you tomorrow night.”

  “Looking forward to it,” I say.

  “I got her recipe for Belgian waffles, too,” he says. “Maybe I’ll make them for breakfast. Think you’ll still be around?” He has trouble finishing the sentence because he’s laughing so hard.

  “You are the king of bad lines,” I say.

  “And you’re my queen.”

  “What’s on for the weekend?” Luci asks when I get to the office. She is sitting at her desk eating a blueberry muffin. I notice there’s one waiting for me on my desk, as well.

  I hang up my coat and position myself behind my desk before answering. “Ethan’s cooking me dinner at his place.” I break off a piece of muffin.

  “Cooking you dinner,” she says with a wink.

  Even though it’s my best friend I’m talking to, I feel myself blushing and suddenly realize how nervous I am about tomorrow.

  “Do you want to go to the mall at lunch?” Luci asks. “We could go to Victoria’s Secret. I’ll help you pick out something for tomorrow night.”

  “Thanks. I’m all set.”

  “You can’t wear your granny underpants,” Luci says, her expression deadly serious. Once while we were shopping, I picked up a three-pack of Jockey briefs, and Luci has never let me hear the end of it. Apparently she only wears thongs or lacy underwear. “I’m serious. Do you have any sexy lingerie?”

  I actually do. A red lacy teddy. I’ve worn it once. The day I tried it on. I blush as I remember thinking that if I bought it, I might get lucky. It was after I took a visualization lunchtime lecture at work. HR insists we attend crap like that once a quarter.

  Luci continues to stare at me. In a very quiet voice she asks, “This isn’t going to be your first time, is it?”

  I glare at her. “Very funny.”

  “Then why are you acting so weird?”

  “Because it’s been a while, and Ethan sounds so confident. What if I disappoint him?”

  Luci stretches out her legs so that her feet are resting on the wall behind my desk. “In this area, men are rarely disappointed. They also tend to overpromise and underdeliver.” She reaches for my arm and squeezes it. “You’ll be fine. Relax.” Then she gives me her Luci devilish grin. “Are there any questions I can help you with?”

  My mother never talked to me about sex. Neesha was the only friend I ever discussed it with, but we were young and inexperienced. Our conversations were mostly about when our first time would be. Neesha planned to wait until college, while I planned to wait until Ethan. When I told Neesha this, she said, “I don’t think you should wait until then.”

  “Why not?” I wasn’t allowed to have my own phone, but the one in the kitchen had an extra-long cord. I stretched it down the hall and into my room.

  “You should do it lots of times before you meet him so you’re good at it,” Neesha answered.

  Before I could respond, there was a knock on my bedroom door. Without waiting for a response, my mother burst into my room. I was lying on the floor next to the door, and it banged against my head. “Ouch!” I screamed. “I’m on the phone.”

  “You’re going to rip the receiver right out of the wall stretching the cord like that,” my mother yelled.

  My father was steps behind her. “Who are you talking to? That better not be long-distance to Texas again or you’ll be paying the bill.”

  On the other end of the line, Neesha giggled. “I miss Dominick and Angie.” Since moving to Texas, she’d taken to calling my parents by their first names.

  “I have to go.”

  Now her words bounce around inside my head: “You should do it lots of times before you meet him so you’re good at it.” While I didn’t wait for Ethan, I didn’t exactly follow Neesha’s advice, either. I am thirty-six years old and have slept with a grand total of two men: Nick Brisas, who was my boyfriend sophomore and junior years at BC, and Ray Palermo, who I dated in my early thirties.

  “How many men have you slept with?” I ask Luci.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “But at least four this month.”

  I study her face to see if she is teasing. I don’t think she is. “The month isn’t even half over.”

  Luci stands and shrugs. “Making up for lost time I guess.” Her voice has that tinge of hurt it always has when she’s talking about anything that vaguely relates to Kip.

  For the next few hours, Luci and I work on the stack of documents in our in-box. She is editing one of Gail’s reports and occasionally reads a nonsensical sentence out loud. “What do you think she means?” she asks, exasperated.

  I look at her and shrug, glad to be working on one of Cooper’s reports. He is actually a decent writer, and I am flying through it. I finish it just before lunch and e-mail it back to him. “Great report,” I write.

  Within minutes of me hitting the Send button, my office phone rings. “Hey, I have some bad news.” It’s Ethan.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Leah called,” he sneers. “She told me she packed all my stuff into boxes. She’s going out of town this weekend, and she said if they’re still there when she gets back, she’s going to take them to the dump.” He is talking three times faster than usual and finally pauses for a breath. “I have to drive to New Hampshire tomorrow to get them. Sorry, but there’s no way I’ll be able to get there and back in time to cook for you.”

  “Why do you still have stuff at Leah’s?” I ask.

  “Jesus, you sound like her.”

  I flinch. He has never spoken to me in such a harsh tone before. I feel Luci staring at me across our desks and spin my chair so that I’m facing the wall behind me.

  “I’m sorry, Gina. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that it’s still my house, too, and Leah refuses to acknowledge that.” He pauses. “We fought about Brady. That’s why she’s doing this.”

  “Well, do what you need to do. We’ll have dinner another time.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says again. “Thanks fo
r understanding.”

  By the time I hang up and spin around, Luci is back on the corner of my desk. “What’s going on?”

  “Leah’s threatening to throw away all of Ethan’s stuff so he has to go to New Hampshire tomorrow and get it. He won’t be back in time to cook me dinner.” I work hard to make my voice sound like it’s no big deal.

  “He still has stuff there? How long have they been separated?”

  I shrug. “A month or so.”

  Luci sighs. “Gina, walk away. Really, he has no business starting a new relationship right now.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Luci stands. “No, it’s not.” She reaches into her purse for her wallet. “Let’s go to lunch.”

  As I get up, my phone rings again. “Hey,” Ethan says. “You don’t think I still have my stuff at Leah’s because I want to move back there?”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course not. I just haven’t had time to drive up there and get it. That’s all.”

  “Well, get it all this weekend and be done with it.”

  “I have an idea,” Ethan says. His voice has the same playful tone from this morning’s call. “Why don’t you come with me? It’s a long ride. I’d love the company. And, I could, umm, take you for dinner and breakfast up there.”

  “You want me to go to New Hampshire with you?”

  “We’ll get a hotel room and spend the weekend. I’ll show you the White Mountains. It’ll be fun.”

  Luci taps me on the shoulder. I didn’t even notice her walk over here. She violently shakes her head. I spin my chair away from her, but she turns it back. Ethan is saying something about waterfalls and how beautiful the White Mountains are. I watch Luci pick up a pen and write the words “Don’t go!” on my desk blotter.

  She’s probably right. I shouldn’t go. On the other hand, I am thirty-six years old and single. I’ve spent the past twenty-two years waiting for a man named Ethan, and now here he is, asking me to go away for the weekend. “I’d love to go with you.”

  Luci stands straight up with her hands on her hips and stomps out of the room. When Ethan and I finish our conversation, I catch up with her at the elevator. Peter from the mailroom is also there. He’s dressed in a large red T-shirt with gold letters that say I’LL NEVER TELL.

  “What does that mean?” I ask as Luci pushes the button for the second floor.

  “I’ll never tell,” Peter answers. Luci turns to look at him. They both laugh.

  “I guess I walked into that.”

  “Yeah, seems like you don’t know what you’re walking into today,” Luci says.

  Peter raises his eyebrows at me, but I ignore him. “Hey, ladies, it’s Friday. A bunch of us are heading to Last Chance after work. Want to join us?”

  The doors slide open. “I’ll think about it,” Luci says.

  I step out of the elevator and almost collide with Cooper. He’s carrying a plate with four chocolate chip cookies and a small carton of chocolate milk. “Is that your lunch?” I ask.

  “The lines for real food are too long. I don’t have time to wait, which reminds me, I have to push our three o’clock this afternoon to four thirty, okay?” he says as he boards the lift.

  “Jesus, Cooper,” Luci answers. “Four thirty on a Friday. Are you asking her to a meeting or on a date?”

  Cooper’s cheeks flush, but the elevator doors close before anyone says anything else.

  Back in our office, Luci and I sit across from each other at our desks eating our salads. “It’s a really bad idea for you to go to the house Ethan shared with his wife.” She points her fork at me. “Really bad idea.”

  “It’s not a big deal. We’re stopping by for a few minutes to pick up some boxes. Leah won’t even be there.”

  “You don’t get it, Gina.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “My divorce was the worst time of my life.” She balls the napkin up and tosses it into the garbage can. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but a guy going through a divorce has no business dating. He needs to process why his marriage failed and then get over it. Stay away from him. Give him time.”

  “He’s the one who pursued me.”

  “He’s reeling, Gina, and he’s just looking for a warm body to hold on to.”

  “So he doesn’t really like me, is that what you’re saying?”

  She leans back in her chair. “I’m saying he has no idea what he’s doing right now. I had such a hard time getting over my divorce. I’m not even sure I’m over it now.” She pauses and studies her nails. “I did so many stupid things that I wish I could take back.”

  “Like what?”

  She stands and walks to the corner of my desk. “Promise not to tell anyone?”

  “Yes.”

  She looks down. “I slept with Peter.” She looks up and into my eyes. I laugh and wait for her to smile. She doesn’t. “I’m serious.”

  There’s not even a hint of amusement on her face. “Peter, from the mailroom?” She nods. “Shut up. You didn’t.”

  She nods. “I did.”

  “Where did you do it, the mailroom?”

  “Actually . . .” She smiles and taps my desk.

  “Gross!” I pull open my bottom drawer, take out my Clorox Wipes, and scrub the spot she just pointed at.

  Back in her chair, Luci laughs. “I’m kidding. About your desk, not about Peter.” I study her face and see no hints that she’s joking or lying. “Do you remember that night we played darts with him at Last Chance?”

  I feel my stomach turning as I remember Peter, all two hundred fifty pounds of him, in his black and gold Bruins shirt, and his sweaty, ruddy face, making a bull’s-eye and then grabbing Luci and kissing her on the lips. “Yes.”

  “Well, I had too much to drink so he gave me a ride home. It just happened.”

  I remember wanting to leave but Luci insisting she wasn’t ready. “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure she gets home safely,” Peter had said while stroking his goatee.

  “Did you know he was drafted by the Blue Jays for pitching but blew out his elbow before making it to the majors?” Luci asks.

  I picture his sad hazel eyes and big body. Then I see him younger, smiling and muscular, dressed in a baseball uniform. He stands on the pitcher’s mound, leans in for the sign from the catcher, goes into the windup, and screams in pain as he releases the ball. Just like that, his dream is over. I want to run to the mailroom and give him a big hug. “That’s awful,” I say. Then, I can’t help it, a vision of him now with his huge stomach hanging over his naked waist appears in my head. His sausage-like fingers fumble with the buttons on the red cashmere sweater Luci was wearing that night. I toss the rest of my salad in the trash and leave for the restroom.

  When I arrive at Cooper’s office at four thirty, he’s on the phone. “They grossly miscalculated in Australia,” he says. “The Aussie four-G network isn’t robust enough for their product.” He squints so that his dark eyes are barely slits. I notice small lines around the corners of his eyes. They make him look sexy. Oh God, what is wrong with me? I look around his office. In addition to his desk and two guest chairs, there’s a table and a couch in here. The bookshelf next to the door displays various awards that he’s won at TechVisions. There’s one picture of him with his arm around a disturbingly beautiful dark-haired woman. Must be Monique, his glamorous girlfriend. She looks extremely familiar. Maybe she used to work here. Maybe that’s how they met. Cooper looks at me and with his hand mimics someone talking too much. I smile and he smiles back. His teeth are straight and white. I think of Ethan’s yellowish teeth with the gaps between them and their varying lengths. Maybe I should find out who Cooper’s dentist is and recommend him?

  Cooper must have hung up the phone because when I look at him again, he’s studying me with his hand on his hip and a half smile. “Well?” he asks.

  “Did you have braces as a kid?” I blurt out.

  He cocks his head and squints. “I asked you how late you can stay, and yes, my father w
as an orthodontist.”

  “I can stay until five thirty, and I’m sorry about your father.”

  Cooper points to the guest chair, so I sink into it. “You’re sorry that he was an orthodontist?”

  “No, I’m sorry he passed.”

  Confusion washes over his face. “Why do you think he died?”

  “You said he was an orthodontist.”

  Cooper shakes his head and opens a notebook on his desk. “He’s retired, not dead.”

  We have all this great technology and still no way to edit the spoken word. I feel my chest and neck getting splotchy. I look up at Cooper. We both laugh when we make eye contact. The laugh starts small but suddenly explodes into uncontrollable snorting. Just when it’s about to end, we make eye contact again, and it picks up steam and keeps going. Tears stream down Cooper’s face, and I’m hunched over, holding my stomach when it finally does end.

  “Anyway,” Cooper says, “where were we with this project?”

  “I’m supposed to tell you about the types of mistakes we find.”

  It’s almost 7 p.m. when Cooper and I finish categorizing the types of errors Luci and I find when editing. He looks at his watch. “Whoops, it’s well after five thirty.”

  I shut my notebook and stand. “I should really get going.”

  He stands, too. “Sorry I kept you so late.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts his weight from leg to leg. “Do you have a big date with Mr. Flowers tonight?”

  Mr. Flowers? Then I remember he saw the roses Ethan sent to work. “I, no. I’m going to meet Luci and some people at Last Chance. It’s karaoke night.”

  “Do you do karaoke?” he asks.

  “Depends on how many drinks I’ve had.”

  He laughs. “I’d like to see that sometime.”

  I walk to his door. When I get there, I turn to face him again. He is standing in the same exact position watching me. “Do you want to come?”

  He sways from side to side. “I’d like to, but I have”—he pauses and looks down—“a thing at eight o’clock.”