Waiting For Ethan

by Diane Barnes

  He holds me tightly. “I’m sorry about today,” he whispers. “This isn’t how I thought it would go.”

  This is him at his worst, I decide, and I can help him through it.

  Chapter 17

  “The only reason he took the dog was to get back at his wife.” Luci points her pen at me as she speaks.

  I am powering on my computer. When the start-up tone ends, I respond, “He loves the dog and was worried about him.”

  Luci stares at me while clicking her pen. She has the same expression she often has when she’s explaining to an Ivy League analyst the difference between it’s and its. “Listen to me carefully, Gina.” She stops clicking and again uses the pen as a pointer. “He took the dog as a way to get back at his wife. That was his only motivation.”

  “You don’t even know him.” I give her the angriest look I have, but she’s not even looking at me anymore.

  Her eyes are glued to her computer monitor while her fingers sprint across her keyboard. “I don’t have to know him. I know that crazy in love often turns to plain crazy when it’s unrequited, and kidnapping your wife’s dog with your new girlfriend qualifies as crazy.” She looks up across her desk at me, and her voice softens. “Sorry, but I can’t stress this enough. You really shouldn’t be dating him right now.”

  “Knock it off.”

  Luci flinches. She and I stare at each other across our desks. After several seconds she looks down at her keyboard and begins typing. How about that? I finally beat Luci Chin at a staring contest.

  For the next hour, the only sounds are the clicking of Luci’s and my fingernails on the keyboards and muffled voices from the mailroom next door. I occasionally steal glances at Luci, but she is concentrating very hard on whatever it is she’s working on and doesn’t notice, or maybe she’s ignoring me? It’s hard to tell. After almost ninety minutes of neither of us saying anything, which might be a record, Luci lets out a startled yell, “Oh my God.” I look up. “Come here.” She excitedly beckons me to her desk.

  I roll in my chair to her side of the office and look at her monitor. I gasp when I see what’s on her screen, an Internet dating site. “Are you doing online dating?”

  She glares up at me. “I was looking for men named Ethan for you.” She turns back to the screen and points to a thumbnail image. “But look who I found instead.”

  “Whom,” I correct, leaning toward her computer and peering at the photo of a short man with short dark hair. It looks like Cooper Allen. Luci clicks on the photo. It triples in size. It’s definitely Cooper. He’s dressed in shorts and a T-shirt that has a number pinned to it. A sign that says 10K FOR KAYLEIGH hangs in the background. Cooper’s user name, MobileMan, appears next to the photo, and below that is his age, thirty-seven. He’s only a year older than I am? Impossible. I had him pegged at forty-five at the youngest.

  Luci clicks on Cooper’s user name, and more details appear. She points to his height, which is listed at five-ten. “Liar,” she says. She’s right. I’m five-four, and Cooper is only a little bit taller than I am. Luci, who is five-seven, towers over him, although she usually wears heels.

  Luci reads Cooper’s profile out loud:

  “About Me: I have a stable career and am goal-oriented.” She laughs. “Yeah, at TechVisions. Big whoop.

  “I’m intelligent and can carry on meaningful conversations, but I can also be playful. There’s nothing I enjoy more than a good laugh—well almost nothing.”

  Luci scrunches her nose. “Gross!”

  “I like to play as hard as I work and when I’m not in the office you’ll find me on my sailboat, mountain bike or cheering on one of the local sports teams. My darkest secret is that I love karaoke. Seriously. I’ve been told I do a mean Frank Sinatra.

  “Cooper does it his way,” Luci sings off-key.

  “I could go on and on, but I think it’s better if we meet so that you can make your own conclusions.

  “About My Match: The woman I’m looking for has a down-to-earth attitude, high moral character, and easygoing personality. She likes to laugh, even at herself. She can spell and has good command of the English language.” Luci elbows me. “She does not watch Jersey Shore or The Bachelor. She’s attractive but is not obsessive about her looks. She loves to eat but keeps herself in shape. She doesn’t get frazzled by setbacks and is prepared for life’s little emergencies. She’s looking to meet a great guy who wants a committed relationship.

  “Wow!” Luci screams, pointing to the About My Match section. “He may as well have said her name is Gina Rossi.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “I am down-to-earth, easygoing, and intelligent, but I do watch The Bachelor, so I’m out.”

  Luci uses the cursor to highlight some of the text: likes to laugh, even at herself; can spell and has good command of the English language; loves to eat but keeps herself in shape. “Even if he doesn’t realize it, he’s describing you.”

  “Why is Cooper on a dating site? He has a girlfriend.”

  Luci shakes her head. “He definitely doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Monique,” I say. “There’s even a picture of her in his office.”

  “I’ve never noticed it.” She clicks on the photo section. There is one other picture, Cooper sitting on a tan carpet with a girl who might be five and a boy who appears to be a little older. The Candy Land game board is spread out in front of them.

  “How sweet is that?” I ask, and I swear to God, my eyes tear up.

  Luckily, Luci doesn’t notice. “Cooper Allen playing Candy Land. It’s making my head hurt,” she says.

  She abruptly fumbles for the mouse and clicks off the page. I hear footsteps and then Jamie’s voice. “What’s making your head hurt?”

  “The data in this report. Gina’s helping me figure it out. I think we’ve got it now.”

  “You guys have to work faster,” Jamie says. “The analysts are complaining about turnaround time.”

  “You spilled something.” Luci points to a small brown spot on Jamie’s white shirt.

  I roll back to my desk and reach into the bottom drawer. “I have a detergent stick that will get that right out.”

  Jamie takes the stick from me. “You keep that in your desk?”

  I nod while Luci says, “That’s Gina. Prepared for life’s little emergencies.”

  “Gina,” Jamie says. “How are things going with Cooper?”

  I feel my chest tighten. I look at Luci. She raises her eyebrows. “Umm, what do you mean?”

  “Haven’t you two been brainstorming ideas for improving turnaround time?” Jamie runs the detergent stick over the stain on his shirt.

  “Oh, that.” The tightness disappears. “We don’t have a plan yet, but we’re working on it. It’s hard to find time to meet with Cooper’s schedule.”

  Jamie hands back the stain remover. “You and Cooper have to get together and get to it.”

  Luci giggles. Jamie looks at her. “I was just saying the same thing.”

  Chapter 18

  Brady’s first week at Jack’s has not gone well. On Monday, while Ethan and Jack were at work, he peed all over the living room rug. Tuesday night, Jack left a steak on the table while he went to the garage to get a beer; when he returned to the kitchen, he found the plate shattered on the floor and Brady in the corner gnawing what was left of the meat. “He’s only allowed in my room and the garage now,” Ethan says and then yawns.

  I take a deep breath. “Maybe he’d be better off at Leah’s?”

  “No way.” We are talking on the phone so I can’t see Ethan’s face, but I imagine he scowls when he says this. “It will get better. I hired a dog walker to take him out during the day while I’m at work. She starts tomorrow.”

  I immediately imagine a dowdy, middle-aged woman dressed in a long skirt and flannel shirt matted with dog hair. “What’s her name?”

  “Amber.”

  Definitely not a middle-aged woman, then. Probably a highschool or college girl. “How
old is she?”

  He sighs. “I don’t know, Gina. Twenty-something, I guess.” In the background I hear Brady bark. “Settle down, buddy.” Ethan’s tone is much gentler than the one he just had with me. “What I do know is that Brady liked Amber and Amber liked Brady. Right, buddy?” Brady barks again.

  “Did Brady like me?” The question pops out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying. I immediately regret asking it because it makes me sound so needy. On the other hand, it’s Thursday, and I haven’t seen Ethan since Saturday so I’m feeling a bit insecure.

  Ethan laughs. “Oh yeah. He told me he really wants to see you again. In fact, he suggested I cook for you on Saturday night.”

  “I knew I liked that dog.”

  It’s there waiting in my in-box when I wake up Friday morning, sandwiched between spam from Ann Taylor and CareerBuilder, an e-mail from Neesha. My hand trembles as I click on her name. The first thing I notice is that her message is lengthy. This makes me smile, remembering how much she loved to talk.

  Gina Rossi!!

  How wonderful to hear from you. I too have thought of you so many times through the years, wondering how in the world we ever lost touch. For crying out loud, we were BFFs before anyone knew what BFFs were!

  Thank you for the kind words about Ajee. She would have loved that you referred to her as enchanting, but my husband, Ashley, and I had a good laugh over that. She was one of a kind, and we all miss her terribly.

  In typical Ajee fashion, she made a ludicrous dying request that I promised to honor. Ready for this? She made me swear that I would spread her ashes in the yard of our old house on Towering Heights Lane. I have no idea how I’m going to be able to do this. I was going to ask the people who live in the house now for permission, but Ashley doesn’t think that’s a good idea because they will think it’s creepy. He thinks I should just sneak into their backyard and do it. Can you imagine if they catch me? Sorry to bother you, I’m just fertilizing your backyard with my grandmother’s remains.

  Of course, I’ve considered not honoring her request, but Ashley says I have to. A promise is a promise after all, and Ajee said she’d haunt me if I didn’t comply. Knowing her, she’d find a way to pull that off.

  So, I plan to come to Westham in the spring and spread Ajee’s ashes in the yard of 18 Towering Heights Lane. Hopefully, you will be my coconspirator? I will be in touch with the exact dates of my visit. I can’t wait to see you and catch up.

  I have two children. My son is Ashley Junior, we call him AJ. He’s four, and his sister Jayda just turned eight. They are precious! I’ve attached a photo of them with Ashley so you can see everyone.

  Looking forward to catching up!

  Love, Neesha

  PS: You will see Ashley looks nothing like Josh Levine, but he does look a bit like Johnny Depp, yes?

  I read the message again. As I do, I can clearly hear Neesha’s fourteen-year-old voice in my head. I picture Ajee in her sari, and I wonder why in the world she would want to spend eternity on Towering Heights Lane.

  I reread the part about Neesha’s family. She named her daughter after her mother. I close my eyes. A memory of Neesha’s mom flashes through my mind. She was wearing tan shorts, a green tank top, and flip-flops, her long black hair was tied in a loose ponytail, and she held a fork like it was a microphone, dancing around the Patels’ porch singing “I Will Survive.” She bowed when she finished. Neesha and I were sitting under the umbrella at the patio table on the other side of the porch. We clapped and yelled, “Again, again.”

  “Please, no.” Dr. Patel laughed as he said this. He was sitting with us under the umbrella, and he got up to flip the burgers on the grill, stopping to kiss Neesha’s mom as he walked by. Neesha and I were probably five at the time, which would have made Mrs. Patel thirty-three. She’d die less than two years later from breast cancer at an age younger than I am today. A shiver runs up and down my spine as I click on the attachment to look at the picture of Neesha’s husband and kids.

  The first thing I notice is a little girl, with long black hair, uneven bangs, and a gap-toothed smile. I swear I’m looking at Neesha when she was eight. Next to the girl is a handsome, dark-haired man with his arm around her shoulders. He does look like Johnny Depp. The man’s other arm is around a small boy, who has his eyes. They are all sitting on a bench, palm trees in the background. I imagine Neesha standing in front of the bench, taking the picture. Well, good for her. She deserves this beautiful family.

  I know that forwarding the picture to my mother will probably result in another invite to Florida to meet Mrs. Bonnano’s son or in a lecture about how I’ve ruined my life, but I can’t help myself. My mother will be thrilled to see a picture of Neesha’s daughter and learn that her name is Jayda. My mom and Mrs. Patel were best friends. Through the years my mother often remarked how much she missed Neesha’s mother. In fact, sometimes I think part of my mother’s annoyance with Ajee was that Ajee’s presence was a constant reminder that Neesha’s mother was never coming back.

  A few seconds after I send the message to my mother, she responds: “Neesha’s children are beautiful. Jayda would be so proud.” Her next line is coated in sarcasm. “So, Neesha’s returning to Towering Heights Lane. Maybe you’ll meet Ethan soon.”

  Chapter 19

  My GPS leads me off the highway and onto a long, winding back road. “Turn right on Maple Avenue,” the male voice instructs. He has an Australian accent. I named him Jonah and imagine he is over six feet tall with bulging biceps and six-pack abs. He has a healthy tan, sun-streaked sandy brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes like Ethan’s, and unlike Ethan, a toothpaste-ad killer smile. Even though Jonah’s good-looking enough to be a movie star, he’s really smart. He’s Australia’s top architect. When he’s not working, he loves to ride the waves. Someday I’m going Down Under, and he’s going to give me surfing lessons. We’ll have a torrid affair. He’ll fall in love and beg me not to leave, but of course, I’ll have to.

  I told Luci about this fantasy once. She turned sideways in the passenger seat and pushed her Maui Jims off her eyes and back into her hair. Her green eyes studying me, squinting. “Gina, we’re signing you up for online dating, stat.” Of course, I refused. I still can’t believe Cooper is using an online dating site. The whole idea of posting a profile with a picture and contact information for any weirdo to see is just too creepy. I’d probably end up living my last days on a mattress in a basement, handcuffed to a pipe while some three-hundred-pound sociopath who hasn’t bathed since George Bush left the White House has his way with me.

  “Turn left on Marsh Street,” Jonah instructs. “In point seven miles, turn right on Seaside Avenue.” I pass a general store, the parking lot empty now. I imagine coming here with Ethan in the summer. We’ll have to fight for a parking space and wait in line to buy our sandwiches, ice-cold drinks, and other provisions for a long, relaxing day at the shore. I see myself putting our items down on the counter in front of the register, while on my left hand a shiny pear-shaped diamond sparkles.

  “Approaching right turn.” I flip on my blinker and turn onto the narrow street where Ethan lives with Jack. I pass a row of small Capes, most of them gray. “You have reached your destination,” Jonah says.

  I park next to a black Ford Fusion and study Jack’s house for a moment. The only things distinguishing it from the homes around it are the painted yellow clapboard and the pole proudly flying a Boston Celtics flag at the end of the gravel driveway. I get out of the car and head toward the front door, feeling the stones crunch under my boots. In the distance, I hear the sound of waves crashing. This place couldn’t be any more different from the mountainside log cabin Ethan shared with Leah.

  I reach the front door and ring the bell. I hear barking from the garage. “Quiet, Brady,” a male voice snarls. The door swings open. A basketball-player-tall man with bright red hair stands on the other side. He does a double take and his mouth gapes open when he sees me. I wonder if I have something smeare
d on my face or if my hair has frizzed so much it now looks like a Brillo Pad. That happens sometimes no matter how long I spend straightening it. The man says nothing, just stands there looking at me like maybe he’s never seen a female before. “You must be Jack,” I finally say through the storm door separating us.

  He blinks twice and nods. “And you must be Gina.” He pushes the door open and steps to the side for me to enter. “Ethan’s in the kitchen.” He points upstairs. “Take your shoes off before heading up.”

  He stands watching me with his arms folded across his chest as I balance myself on the railing and pull off my boots. He’s giving me the heebie-jeebies the way he’s studying me so intently. What are you looking at? I scream inside my head. When I finish taking off my boots, he gestures with his arm for me to climb the stairs first. Is it ridiculous that I’m a little afraid to turn my back on him? We get to the top of the stairs. It smells delicious up here, like chicken potpie. Jack takes my coat and disappears to a closet down the hall.

  Ethan emerges from the kitchen, smiling. “You made it.” He gathers me in his arms, kisses me hello, and hugs me tightly. His scent, a combination of sawdust and pine, is already familiar. Jack returns, wearing a jacket himself now. Good, he’s leaving. Only, he doesn’t. He stands there watching Ethan and me embrace, so I pull away.

  Ethan follows my gaze to Jack. “Have a good night.”

  Jack doesn’t answer, just stands there shaking his head.

  “What gives?” Ethan asks.

  “You’re something else, man,” Jack says.

  “What did I do now? Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about Brady?” Before Jack answers, a buzzer sounds. Ethan shrugs and heads back to the kitchen.