by Piper Rayne
Ethan picks up both shoes and as the orderly tries to keep him out of the room, he strong-arms him and slides past. His yelling over his father’s is disturbing the entire floor and the nurse who was talking to Ethan when we first stepped off the floor glances to me and then heads down the hall.
That’s permission enough, I assume. I slowly rise off the bench again and take one step down the hall and then another until I’m past the nurse’s station. Walking at a normal pace, the voices become clearer.
“It’s a fucking pair of shoes. Just put them on,” Ethan yells. “I’ll fucking tie them.”
“Who the hell are you?” A man’s voice. “Get out! Where am I?”
“Xavier,” a sweet voice who I assume is the nurse says. “This is your son, Ethan.”
“My son is eight. Not a grown man.”
My eyes close and I lean against the wall.
“I was eight twenty years ago.”
“Ethan, stop antagonizing him. Take a walk. Maybe with the friend you brought in. After you’ve cooled off, come back in.”
“When I leave here, I’m leaving.”
I cross the hallway and peek into the room. I can’t see his dad, but Ethan is rummaging through a metal lockbox. He walks back over to his dad and slams a picture on the table. “Ethan.” He points to himself.
“Who’s playing a joke on me?”
“Go, Ethan. Please. Let us calm him,” the nurse says and places her hand on his arm.
Ethan’s chest rises and falls. Without a word, he turns to the door.
I scramble knowing there’s no way I’ll make my way to the bench without him seeing me. So, I stay on the opposite side of the wall.
Ethan’s footsteps halt when he spots me, he rolls his eyes, shakes his head and walks down the hall without me.
“Ethan,” I say, following him.
He presses the elevator button and this time there’s no time to waste before it arrives.
“Talk to me,” I say.
But he says nothing as the elevator stops at almost every floor before we reach the bottom. Instead of going out the front door, he turns the opposite way and we end up in a courtyard with old outdoor furniture and flowers that look like they could use some tending to.
Ethan sits down on a bench and I sit next to him, although there’s an uncomfortable feeling between us.
“As you know with your eavesdropping, my dad has Alzheimer’s.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.”
I slide closer, hoping this means we can actually talk about it.
“He has these outbursts. Today he forgot how to tie a shoe and got mad. Another day he’ll get into it with his best friend here over whether or not he likes bread pudding.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. God, can’t I think of anything else to say?
He turns his head in my direction and his eyes say it all before the words come out of his mouth. “I know. Everyone’s sorry. Since I was eight years old, everyone’s been sorry.” He stands up. “The pity in your eyes right now? I’ve seen that my entire life and that’s exactly why I don’t tell people. Exactly why I wish you would’ve stayed in the waiting area like I told you to.”
I stand and place my hand on his back. “You can talk to me. I want to be there for you.”
He whirls around. “Be there for me? What are you gonna do, Blanca? Develop some miracle cure for my dad to get his memory back? Even if he did know what the hell was going on around him, nothing would change. My mom would still work six days a week struggling to survive. Out of all of us, he’s actually the lucky one who doesn’t remember our childhood. Lucky bastard.”
He shakes his head at me and rolls his eyes. “Want another tidbit to feel sorry for me about? My dad got laid off when I was eight, tried to get a job for a few years. When that didn’t work, he became a day laborer until he decided he’d rather sit down at the local bar all day and drink with his other unemployed buddies. Want to know why I can cook? Because I was the man of the house while my mom tried to work as many shifts as she could to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. I took care of Kori, made sure she got into college, got her the school loans because I learned that all by myself first. But the man who caused us all to be in that position gets to sit up there” —he points up in the air— “and has no fucking clue that he was the world’s worst father. He’s stuck in a time and place where he had a great job and our family was happy. How does the man who caused my nightmare of a childhood get to live with no memories, no regret while the rest of us still suffer the consequences?”
“I wish I could answer that.” I wrap my arms around his middle and hug him tightly.
He doesn’t hug me back, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I think my mom prefers him not remembering because she loves him so much and knows it would cause him pain, but he didn’t give a shit about us. What kind of man lets his wife work until she can’t stand anymore? What kind of man deserts his family to spend it down at the bar and then comes home drunk and vengeful? Why does that man deserve to still have his family visit him every Sunday with smiles and hugs?”
I feel sick hearing everything he and his family have been through. My stomach churns and my chest feels like it’s caving in on itself.
“Life is unfair. But you can’t change any of this, Ethan. You can’t give your dad his memory back. And you punishing him for things he doesn’t remember ever doing is only going to affect you. You choose your life. You choose the way you want to live and this resentment that you hold for him isn’t healthy.”
He blows out a breath. “You think I don’t know that. I do, but I can’t stop. I hated him for so many years and now I’m supposed to just forget it and feel bad for him when he never felt bad for any of us.”
I take his hand and lead him over to the bench. “You’re never going to forget, but you need to heal, and all this anger isn’t going to allow you to do that. Have you thought about group support or therapy?”
He shakes his head.
“That might be where to start, but you can’t fix your dad. You have no control to change anything except yourself and how you react to the circumstances.”
“Ethan.” A woman opens the door and her shoulder’s sag in relief.
“Mom?” He stands and she steps into the courtyard, her eyes only on me. “I told you I’d handle it.”
“I know, but you shouldn’t have your day all messed up. I was able to leave a little early and thought I’d take over.”
Ethan hugs his mom and kisses her cheek. “Mom, this is Blanca.” He gestures in my direction.
She puts out her hand and I stand to shake it. “Nice to meet you.”
She smiles at Ethan and he shakes his head but a slow smile forms on his lips.
“I’ve got to get up there. You two go. I’ll call you later.” She kisses his cheek. “Very nice to meet you. Come by someday.”
“I’d love to,” I say.
She pats her son’s cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
They share a moment I feel awkward witnessing, then his mom walks out of the courtyard.
“Come on. Let’s get home.”
“Don’t you want to say goodbye?” I ask.
He opens up the courtyard door. “No. I don’t.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ethan
*
Our hour and a half train ride leaves too much time to think. Especially when the woman I want to be with is sitting next to me—so close and yet so far away. Her small hand is tucked into mine, but I’m not naïve enough to assume it will remain there as we step off the train.
“You’re right,” I mumble.
She faces me. “I’m what?”
The first real smile I’ve had in the last few hours creases my lips. “You’re right. I’m punishing him. I mean, I go every Sunday more for my mom than him. But I’m distant and half the time only engage with Kori. I keep everything festering inside me.
”
“I think a support group would help. There’s a reason they exist. I’m sure no one knows how to deal with a family member losing their memory without some help.”
I still have a hard time seeing the pity in her eyes.
“I tell no one. Talking to strangers…” A shiver runs through my body at the thought and I cringe.
I cannot even imagine. Plus, they all probably love their family members and there’s a large amount of hatred for my dad that resides inside me.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Why?”
“We’re friends. Nothing changes that.”
“Not even Sierra?”
She removes her hand from mine, crosses her legs and shifts her body so that she’s faced a little away from me. “Stop it.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry but she’s my friend.”
“And how do you think being friends with me would work? What? You tell her you’re meeting a friend and be vague so that we can go to a meeting? Sierra is not going to allow you to be either my friend or girlfriend.”
I hate the fact the one woman who despises me has so much control over my happiness.
“It’s not about allowing. We’re co-workers already. She doesn’t control my life.”
“And yet here we are hiding our feelings from one another. Trying to be platonic.”
She blows out a breath and a message comes over the speaker announcing Cliffton Heights as the next stop, so she heads to the doors.
I follow her and once we’re each holding a pole waiting for the train to come to a stop, Carm’s words blink in my head like a neon sign. He’s right. I’m not going to win her over by arguing with her.
“I’m sorry, okay. I just… I want nothing more than to take you back to my apartment, bury myself deep inside of you and forget all this shit of today.”
She swivels her head in my direction and her cheeks are pink because I know she wants it too. “That doesn’t change the situation.”
“I know, but I’d feel a hell of a lot better having the woman I want. The woman I can’t stop thinking about. The woman who drives me crazy.”
The train stops and she walks down the stairs with the rest of the commuters and turns to head to her apartment. This time I’m not saying goodbye, I’m walking her home.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“I’m walking you home.”
She stops and puts her hand on my chest. “You can’t.”
I put my hand on hers. “I can do whatever I want.”
“Please Ethan, you’re going to make this worse than it has to be.”
Anger still rises up inside me, but I attempt to push it back down so that I can do what Carm suggested, open up my chest and let my heart fall out.
“Walk with me, please?” I hold out my hand.
She stares at it for a moment and then her eyes lock with mine. “Just one walk.”
Her warm hand touches mine and I grip it in mine, leading her through downtown instead of directly to her apartment. We’ll get there eventually.
We don’t say much to one another. We pass both bagel shops, Scrumptuals, Las Tacos. We pass the gazebo and the barber shop where I get my haircut.
“There’s so much I wanted to do with you.”
She sighs but doesn’t say anything in response.
“That’s my barber shop.” I point to the traditional looking shop with a red and white pole out front. “And that’s the newspaper I turned in an article…” Then it hits me. Fuck. “I forgot.”
“What?”
I pull her toward my apartment but when we get close, she tears her hand out of mine. “I can’t go up there.”
I insert my key. “It’s not for anything other than your blog. I completely forget.”
She stands there, not saying a word and for a moment I think she’s going to say no, but she eventually walks through the building door and I follow.
When we reach my apartment, she sits down on the edge of the couch cushion.
Grabbing my computer from my bag, I pull out my laptop and boot up my computer.
“What about my blog?” she asks.
“I did some research and I found you a sponsor.”
Her face drops and all the defensiveness she had to come up here disappears. “You what?”
“Well, your existing blog got you a sponsor. A messenger bag company is going to send you one to review. They want to gear it toward women in their twenties who have to commute.”
“Ethan…”
I busy myself typing in my password and finding everything. “I did some research about blogs and although yours is great, you might be too broad. I’m not suggesting you change anything if you don’t want to, but a lot of your posts are about money and exploration. I was wondering if you should concentrate on how to do things on the cheap. You could totally—”
She turns my computer her way. The new design I created for her is on the screen. She uses the mouse and clicks through the blog I designed. “You did all this?”
“Yeah.”
“For me?”
Looking up from the computer, I see there’s wetness building in her eyes. That’s good, right?
“Why would you do that?”
“It seemed like your passion and I wanted it to be successful.”
“But? I don’t understand.”
“What?” I brush the hair that’s in front of her face and tuck it behind her ear.
“No one..” She shakes her head and that stray hair falls from behind her ear once again. This time I leave it. “I mean…”
“Blanca, I care about you. A lot. I know I suck at romantic gestures and gushing on about my feelings, but I want you to be happy.”
“This must have taken you weeks.”
I chuckle. “I’ve had some spare time.”
“When you should’ve been concentrating on what you want.’
I shrug. “I’d rather spend it like this. You’re talented and at first, I wanted to just get you sponsorships to be able to monetize the blog, but then I started doing some more digging and researching. That’s where this new format came from. I totally understand if I overstepped.”
She places her finger on my lips and leans forward. “You didn’t overstep.”
Our eyes lock and I see it there in her eyes. Clear, transparent and alive. This separation is killing her just as much as me.
“I have to go. Thank you.” She grabs her bag and rushes out of my apartment.
I run down my stairs and catch up to her by the mailboxes. “Blanca!”
“No Ethan. Don’t follow me. We can’t.”
I grab her arms and turn her around. Tears stream down her face and I pull her into my chest. “Stop this. Let’s just go to her and talk. Make her understand what she’s asking of us.”
She draws back and wipes her tears. “I can’t hurt her like that.”
“But—”
Her hand splays on my cheek. “I’m sorry, Ethan. Maybe in time things will change. When more time has passed.”
I grip her wrist. “Give us a chance.”
“You have no idea how badly I wish our paths had crossed at a different time. Thank you for everything. I’ll see you at work.”
She eases up onto her tiptoes, kisses my cheek, and falls back down to her heels. “Forgive him, okay? You have a bigger heart than you realize. You need to open it up to him.”
Tears well in her eyes again but before they fall, she walks out of the alcove of my apartment building and into the street.
She might be willing to admit defeat, but there’s one thing I haven’t done yet. Pulling out my phone, I scroll through six months’ worth of missed calls until I find it.
Me: We need to talk. Tonight at The Red Penguin. Nine.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Blanca
*
Sierra and I walk through downtown Cliffton Heights after watching a John Hughes marathon at the movie theater. We pass Scru
mptuals and all I think about is Ethan.
“Have you been there?” Sierra slides her arm through mine.
I could lie. I should lie. “I have.”
She stares at me for a moment and then she realizes. “Oh that’s right. I keep forgetting he was mystery man.”
Lucky for her to be able to forget. I sure haven’t.
“What was your favorite movie tonight?” I ask.
We pass Scrumptuals and head toward the coffee shop on the corner that I’ve only been to once since I usually buy my coffee with my bagel in the morning.
“Hands down Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I see why SJP nailed him down when they were young.”
I laugh.
“What about you?” she asks.
“You know me. The Breakfast Club.” I shrug.
“How could I forget? You love that opposites attract thing.”
I’m not sure that’s why I love The Breakfast Club, but I don’t argue because Sierra will argue to the death that she’s right.
“I mean you and Ethan were opposites. I’m telling you, you did a good thing by not continuing that relationship. It would have ended badly.”
I stop for a moment. This is our first time discussing Ethan since the night she told me to continue dating him but locked herself in her room.
“I’m not sure we were opposites.”
She huffs. “Come on, he’s so aggressive and you’re so passive. He would’ve walked all over you in the end. Eventually you probably would’ve been miserable.”
I open the door to the coffee house and Sierra walks in ahead of me. “I’m not sure I had enough time with him to see that, I guess.”
She pats my shoulder. “See? I saved you.”
I say nothing as my ire builds and we both order our coffees.
“I heard he’s going to Dylan’s birthday party next month. You okay with that?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “I can handle him, but are you going to be okay?”
“I see him every day at work. We have a lot of interaction there.” With my coffee in hand, I lead us out of the coffee shop.
“How is your little magazine doing?”
I stop outside on the sidewalk. A couple has to unlink their hands to get by me. Whatever, happy couple.
