Homebound

by Alyssa B Cole

  “Bye.”

  We’ll talk again to arrange my moving out, but this moment seems like a permanent farewell, like the book of our life together has closed and it’s being tossed in a blazing fire.

  I tremble as a breeze sweeps by, tussling my hair as I turn. I forgot I was at the bar. The world is a blur, and I’m numb.

  I turn and see Ethan in the doorway, looking at me with that same contrite expression I’ve seen on him a few times now. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s just pity.

  He blinks at me after a moment, as if just realizing we’ve made eye contact. He has the grace to look away.

  “That was Greg,” I tell him, because why not.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

  “Well,” I say, spreading my arms out. “Yours truly is officially single.”

  He looks back up at me. Or, I guess, down on me. He’s taller. Haha.

  Ha.

  “Well,” I say, “you gonna take me home or what?”

  I stride past him, not wanting to show him how my face is crumbling, how my heart is crumbling.

  He grabs my arm. I yank it, but though his grip isn’t painful, he doesn’t let go.

  “Connie,” Ethan says.

  “Abby.”

  “Abby, don’t do this. You always shut down when you get emotional.”

  “Just drop it, please.”

  “Abby.”

  With my other hand, I smack his arm. He yelps, releasing me entirely so I can storm away a few feet.

  “Look,” I grind out. “I’m grateful that you’re trying to help me and everything, and you’re really nice and all, but even though I grew up with you…I don’t know you. I haven’t seen you in, like, ten years. And I just…”

  Unbidden, tears start to fall. It’s not even cathartic; it’s just my eyes squeezing out a few excess teardrops against my best efforts. It’s not emptying the sadness, just a demonstration of the overflow. And I’m doing it in front of Ethan Perry, a guy I once knew but not anymore. Humiliation burns me. I hate this. I shouldn’t have come out tonight.

  I storm away, giving Mr. Walter a blind wave as I power-walk through the bar and exit. I go home alone.

  Chapter 6

  I forget to go back to work. I lose my job. And I lose money on my plane ticket.

  Because my life, you know, is super awesome, and I make really good decisions.

  So I’m jobless, still at my parents’ house, and $300 poorer. I look at jobs for the New York area, but honestly, nothing catches my eye, especially when I look at the cost of rent in the area. Greg and I lived in a small place in Brooklyn. It was barely affordable. I don’t see anything else that is remotely in that price range, either.

  So here I stay. It’s early September now, and it’s hotter than it’s been all summer. I swipe through some more job options, my bottom soaking in the lake while I lounge in the inflatable innertube. Maybe I need to give in and look at jobs in Minnesota. At least that’ll be moderately more affordable.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, groaning as I tilt my head back, my large dark sunglasses keeping the sun from scouring my eyes through their lids.

  “What’s your problem?” Beth asks. She’s reclining in an innertube near me. She doesn’t have any showings today, so we decided to have a girls day. I notice her eyeing my Mark, and I frown. I’d forgotten that wearing a swimsuit is more revealing now than it used to be. I should probably buy a patch to cover it up for the next time I wear something sleeveless. For now, I nestle my arms a little into my innertube, obscuring it from view.

  “Oh, you know,” I tell her, spinning my tube a little so my Mark isn’t quite facing her, “figuring out my life. That’s all.”

  “I’m telling you, take a picture of your Mark and upload it onto one of those soulmate apps. You might end up with a sugar daddy.”

  “Wow,” comes Ethan’s voice from the boat that had been towing us. “You’re pretty materialistic, Beth.”

  Let me correct myself: This was supposed to be a girls day, until she decided Ethan should come along too and drive our parents’ boat. I haven’t seen him much, having mostly sequestered myself in my room trying to grieve and find a job and avoid the mostly well-meaning questions of my family and neighbors. It’s awkward, since I lashed out at him last time, and our meeting before that was the first time we really had seen each other in a decade. With Beth here, though, she keeps me from dwelling on it.

  “I’m just being real!” Beth cries, flipping an arm in the air. “And she’s so depressed.”

  “I’m not depressed,” I scoff. Some people really struggle with depression and anxiety. Mine’s not so bad, and it’s based on my circumstances, not my natural state of mind, so therefore I can’t have it. “I think I might have to move back to the Midwest.”

  “Good!”

  “Not good, Beth!”

  I can tell she’s rolling her eyes beneath her retro sunglasses. “Give me your phone.”

  “What? Why?”

  “So I can give it to Ethan for safekeeping! You need a break! Enjoy life a little! Think of it this way: You got an unexpected summer break!”

  I love my sister, but I hate this about her. She’s so optimistic and bright. It’s frustrating. Just let me stew.

  “You’re so annoying,” I tell her.

  “Abby, either you give that phone to Ethan, or I will chuck it in the lake.”

  She will try, too.

  I huff, then pull myself in by the line and stretch over to Ethan. “Here.”

  Our fingers brush as he takes it from me, setting it next to the cooler. “You want some water?” he asks.

  “I’m good,” I tell him. “You want a turn on the innertube?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

  “Ethan,” Beth calls. “Remember when we were kids, and you nearly drowned in the lake?”

  “Thanks for the memories, Beth.”

  “When was this?” I ask. “I don’t remember that.”

  “It was after we met in kindergarten. Our moms let us play in the lake since it was still warm. You were probably still a toddler.”

  “Is that why you don’t like being on an innertube?” I say, looking at Ethan. He’s back in his book, reclining on the plastic seat in the back of the boat, but I don’t think he’s reading.

  “I don’t like being in the water at all, really,” he answers, glancing at me. At least, I think he does. It’s a little hard to tell with these sunglasses.

  “Huh. Didn’t you help teach me how to swim?”

  “I mean, I can swim, but I don’t like water. It was more out of self-defense, and you have to learn how to swim in school anyway. As for teaching you how to swim, if I recall, you refused to participate in swim class during gym.”

  That I remember. “I was afraid of looking stupid and embarrassing myself in front of everyone,” I confess. “I threw up just thinking about it.”

  “I remember you being sick,” Beth says, lowering her sunglasses at me. “I didn’t realize you were so afraid of it.”

  “That’s what I get for being such a proud little schmuck,” I sigh.

  Ethan smiles a little, flipping a page in his book. “I caught you practically drowning yourself in the lake one day when I was walking home. You were trying to teach yourself in secret.”

  Unexpected laughter bubbles up in me. I haven’t laughed in a really long time. “I remember! I was so determined to go into gym class and blow everyone’s minds, but it’s hard to teach yourself when you don’t even know what to do.” Glancing back at Ethan, I say, “You helped me after that, I think.”

  “Yeah. Got you mastering floating and the backstroke by the end of that first day.”

  “She was so excited,” Beth laughs. “She came home after school, begging me to go to the lake with her. God, when was that? Were you in elementary school, Abby?”

  “Sixth grade,” I tell her. “They had swim class in middle school.” Then I start cackling. “Ethan, that’s why
I was so annoyed with you all the time!”

  “What’d you do?” Beth teases him.

  He sets the book to the side, clearly accepting that he will be unable to focus on it with us loudmouths in the general vicinity. “I honestly don’t know. I treated her like I always did!”

  “That was the issue!” I laugh. “I got such a crush after you when you helped me!”

  “What?” they say in unison.

  But it’s true. I don’t remember my exact thoughts at the time, but I remember thinking all the time about how tall and smiley Ethan was, and how my heart went into overdrive when he touched me during our swimming lessons.

  “No way,” Ethan sputters. “You got so mad all the time.”

  “Uh, yeah, because I was embarrassed and afraid you’d know! And you always called me Connie, and I always thought Abby was a prettier name. Plus, I figured you two - ”

  Oops.

  “What?” Beth asks, her forehead growing pinched as she scrutinizes me.

  “I just always thought you two had a thing going,” I try to say flippantly. This is far worse than ever admitting my childhood crush, especially since Ethan now has a Mark and my sister doesn’t.

  They exchange a look. “Did you, you know, like me?” Beth asks cautiously.

  “No,” he answers just as cautiously. “Did you?”

  “No way,” she says, actually sounding revolted. “You’re like my brother!”

  “Oh thank God,” he huffs in relief. “I wasn’t sure what secrets you Doyles were hiding. And apparently, I’m pretty oblivious to them. I had no idea that - ”

  His eyes meet mine, and then they quickly dart away. “I’m sorry, Abby.”

  “Don’t be silly. You were a freshman in high school. I was in sixth grade, and my crush lasted for, like, three months at the most. I knew it wasn’t going to work out. It just rubbed me the wrong way when you treated me like your kid sister. Eventually, I just got annoyed with you.” I pause. “You two seriously never had a thing?”

  “No,” they say with equal horror.

  “Oh.” Well, I’m glad for Beth, at least. I was worried over how she felt hanging out with Ethan, given his Mark, which he leaves hidden under his t-shirt.

  “He’s just my buddy.”

  “I’m just stuck with her,” Ethan tells me. “One good thing about the military is that I was free from her for a while.”

  She splashes him, making him yelp, “Watch the book!”

  “Move the book, then!” she calls back, laughing.

  “No way! It’s my shield!”

  A thought crosses my mind. “Ethan? Can I actually get a water bottle, please?”

  He continues to hold his book like a crucifix while the other hand digs into the cooler and tosses me a bottle.

  I sip at it, then, when I’m sure that the book is out of harm’s way and he’s not paying attention, I splash some at him, soaking the back of his shirt.

  He yelps at the cold, and Beth pulls closer to give me a high-five before drifting away again.

  “Wow, thanks,” Ethan grumbles, whipping his damp shirt off.

  Oof.

  His time in the military clearly has done something for him. I never thought I was into that alpha male type on romance novel covers, but…whoa. Even with his back to me, he’s well-carved, broad and strong. And as I drift toward Beth, I can see the muscles on his arms, and the abs on his torso.

  Clearly, I am a pervert. Also, remarkably inconsistent. I frown, looking away. Until this morning, I’d been lamenting the loss of Greg in my life. How could I be ogling another guy?

  No, it’s just like seeing an old movie star crush in a shirtless scene. I can appreciate the spectacle, but overall it means nothing about me as a person, other than I am straight.

  “Hey,” Ethan growls at me. I glance over, hoping any remaining blush on my face can be excused as too much time in the sun. “I was going to help you out, you know.”

  “Really?” I ask, averting my eyes again. Maybe I should start seeking out my soulmate anyway, because apparently this is more than just appreciation for the male form. I am thirsty.

  I really gotta go back to church.

  “Yeah, but never mind,” he says airily. “I was just going to give you a job.”

  “A job?” I perk up, all thoughts of his body forgotten. Immediately, I think he’s going to offer me a job cleaning at his house. I used to do that back when I was fifteen. His mother had been more or less handicapped at the time, barely able to do more than work on her clunky laptop as she tried to work online while she rested in bed, and even then it was difficult for her to do. I’d been unhappy when my mom told me she’d informed Mrs. Perry that I’d help her out; I had moved past my crush and into my “Ethan Perry annoys the crap out of me for treating me like a kid” phase, and I had no desire to spend more time around him than I needed to. But he worked all the time after school, so I really didn’t end up seeing him often.

  There was another reason why I’d been reluctant to start working at the Perry house: the idea of Mrs. Perry’s disease made me nervous. It wasn’t that I was afraid to get it; I knew enough to know it wasn’t contagious. But I was never very good with people, not like Beth was. I was too prickly. To know I was going to interact with someone who had impairments made me a nervous wreck. I was sarcastic, but I never wanted to be cruel. Not to mention, the only times I’d interacted with Mrs. Perry before was when she was in her remissions, and even then we rarely saw each other.

  But the job became the highlight of my freshman year.

  “Well, I can’t give it to you exactly, but you can interview. It’s a bookstore off of 5th and Cedar. Crisp Pages Bookstore?”

  “I don’t remember it.”

  “It’s a small chain, actually. They opened it, what, three years ago, Beth?”

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  I consider this. “It’s hiring?”

  “Yeah. I’m part-time, but I know one of our full-time staff members just moved, so as long as you’re willing to work forty hours a week, they’ll probably take you.”

  “Nice!” It’s retail, but hey, I’ll take it for the time being. It doesn’t mean I’m staying forever in Lake Redwood, but it can at least tide me over until I get a new job.

  A phone buzzes in the meantime. “Not mine,” I say. I always have it on silent.

  “I don’t have mine on vibrate,” Ethan says.

  “It’s probably mine,” Beth says with a sigh. Being a realtor must suck. She stretches her hand out. With a sigh of his own, Ethan plops her phone in her hand.

  “Beth Doyle of Hollybrook Realty,” Beth answers, her voice suddenly confident and professional. I’m stunned. I knew she had to be good at her job, but I haven’t seen her in action before. It’s a whole new capable Beth I’ve never seen.

  While she climbs into the boat to jot some notes down, I glance at Ethan. “Hey, you sure you don’t want to brave lounging in the innertube for a while?”

  He frowns at it, then says, “Might as well. It is hot out.” Ethan’s already in swim trunks, but he’s careful about fitting himself in the inflatable. Beth is almost as tall as he is, so it’s not a terrible fit, but he clearly struggles not to fall into the water.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Peachy keen,” he says with a strained smile. I don’t get how he does that, constantly smile.

  “You really don’t have to get in the water if you don’t want to,” I say, looking at him over my sunglasses.

  “It’s fine. I’m just…usually not out this deep.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let you drown.”

  “Oh ho,” he gasps a laugh, finally situating himself on the innertube. “The grasshopper has become the master, now?”

  “Eh, I suppose I owe you,” I grin, but it quickly fades. “I do owe you, though. I’m sorry.”

  He looks at me quizzically. “It was just a shirt. It’ll dry.”

  I snort. “No, not the shirt. I mean
the whole issue with, well, the night Greg and I broke up.” Saying “Greg and I broke up” is a lot less painful than “Greg broke up with me,” but it still chokes me up a little to say it, like it lodges in my throat. “You were trying to be nice, and I just couldn’t handle it. I’m too…” I wave my hand vaguely. “I don’t know what I am. But I lash out too often. And, well, I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  His gaze softens, which makes my cheeks burn again. I look away. I don’t need his pity, even if I pity myself.

  “Abby,” Ethan says, “I honestly didn’t hold it against you.”

  “Really?” I keep my eyes focused on the shore, where a few other boats bob near the dock.

  “Sure. I knew what you were going through. I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in where it doesn’t belong. I’m sorry.”

  I glance back at him. “You know,” I say thoughtfully, “you’re a really nice guy.”

  He wiggles his eyebrows at me, grinning. “Enough for you to fall for me again?”

  “Wooow,” I say, rolling my eyes and splashing him. “Don’t hold my sixth-grade mistakes against me.”

  His laughter fades. “I don’t think I’m that nice a guy,” he says. “I just act like I am.”

  “Oh, shush. You’re, like, one of the nicest people I know. Even if you did treat me like a kid when I was a teen. And you used my first name all the time.” I squint at him. “You know, you actually have been good about not calling me Connie or Constance. I’m impressed.”

  “Well, I liked picking on you when you were a kid.”

  “And now?”

  He shrugs, looking away. “You’re not a kid anymore. And like you said, we don’t really know each other now.”

  I hum in agreement, looking out at the rippling water. A mother is out with her little kids near the shore. I can hear their squeals from here.

  “I’d like to change that.”

  I glance back at him. He looks strangely serious. “Change what?”

  “I’d like to know you. If that’s okay.”

  I consider him. He rubs the bottom of his ear. I dimly remember how I’d noticed that about him, back when I was infatuated by him. Once again, I feel like he’s slotting into my memories, this grown=up Ethan merging with the teenager I knew. “Okay.”