Countdown: Ethan

by Boniface, Allie

  When they returned to the court, Ethan took his place next to Paul, who immediately poked him in the side. “You’re done, Meriweather,” he said and shoved Ethan out of the way as Howie dribbled up the pavement.

  Ethan made a half-hearted grab for the ball and missed. I was done a long time ago.

  Howie whooped as he dunked the ball over Mike’s head, but the sound floated across the periphery of Ethan’s attention and disappeared.

  “Ethan!” An angry Mike stormed down the court. Dodging Howie, he moved left and then right. He lifted the ball into the hoop even as he glared at his best friend over one shoulder.

  Ethan shook his head. Get with it, he thought. Gotta get with it. Down the court the foursome stormed, again and again. They moved in rhythmic patterns, dodging, weaving, swearing, slapping hands and backsides and occasionally the pavement as the game wore on. The courts on either side of them filled up with friends and family and babies in strollers on the sidelines.

  Panting, Howie stopped for a minute to grab a drink of water. “What’s the score?”

  “We’re up by four.” Mike tossed Ethan a towel. “Let’s take five,” he said, and the others nodded.

  Paul collapsed in the grass, one arm over his eyes. Across the park, Howie moved in on a dark-haired woman stretched out beside the fountain.

  Mike shook his head. “Man, that guy doesn’t ever stop. Gotta give him credit for trying, I guess.”

  Ethan watched as the woman looked up through dark sunglasses and shook her head at Howie. Undeterred, the redhead knelt down beside her and waved one hand in the air. Ethan could see the guy’s mouth going a mile a minute.

  “You stay in last night?” Mike asked.

  Ethan nodded.

  “I tried calling you around nine or so. There was a good band playing downtown. Your voicemail picked up.”

  “I was probably in the john.”

  Mike cut him a glance. “Or too far into the bottle to find the phone?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Listen.” Mike paused. “It’s been over a year.”

  Ethan dropped his chin and stared at his hands, clasped between his knees. He didn’t need Mike to tell him how long it had been.

  “What happened to that girl from work you took out a couple of times? Lisa?”

  “Alyssa.” Ethan didn’t want to talk about it. “She was a nice girl.” Too nice. He’d botched it, and she’d moved on.

  “I know it’s been rough,” Mike went on. “But everyone asks about you.”

  “Everyone who?”

  “You know what I mean. The guys at Delaney’s. Melinda the bartender. Christ, even the secretary at my office wonders why you never come around anymore.”

  Ethan stared at the treetops that edged the park, where brilliant green met blue in a horizon that made his eyes water. “I’ve been busy.” That much was true. The last couple of months, projects had kept him at the office long past dinnertime.

  “How’s work?” Mike changed the subject.

  “It’s fine.”

  “I read all your stuff. I know it’s fine. That’s not what I meant. On one hand, you seem okay. Even out here on the court, you finally cleaned up your act today. Started playing like you meant it. But every once in a while—”

  “Let it go,” Ethan said. “I’ll be fine.” He just had to find his rhythm again. Had to figure out how to get back in the game. On his own time.

  “We’re going over to Beale Street tonight. Grab some beers, check out a couple of new places. Come with us.”

  Ethan started to protest and then stopped. He could stand a few hours with Howie and Paul. And maybe he did need to try a little harder. “Okay.”

  “Cool. Probably around seven or so. We’ll get something to eat, see what bands are playing. I’ll call you.” Mike glanced at the court behind them, where a pick-up game had started. “Hey, check out the blonde.”

  “Playing hoops?”

  “Sitting on the grass.”

  Ethan looked. She lay back on her elbows with long legs stretching out from blue shorts and a tube top inching its way down her cleavage. Near-white hair spilled down her back. “She’s cute.”

  “Go talk to her.”

  “Nah.”

  “C’mon. She’s been staring at you for the last ten minutes.”

  “How the hell do you know?”

  “’Cause I actually pay attention to chicks. Unlike you. Which is why I’m doing you a favor and givin’ you this one, instead of going over there myself.”

  Ethan shrugged and mopped his face. “She’s probably here with someone.”

  “Won’t know unless you ask her.”

  Ethan didn’t answer, just stood and reached for the ball as Mike made clucking noises behind him. He dribbled his way back onto the court. He wasn’t Mike or Howie, and he wasn’t about to walk over and start talking up some random woman just because she looked cute lying in the sun.

  “Let’s play.” Ethan shoved an elbow into Howie’s ribs and planted his feet. Bring it on, he thought, and waited for the game to begin again.

  1:00 p.m.

  On the ground in Philadelphia, Dakota shouldered her backpack and headed down the concourse in search of a restroom. She never used airplane bathrooms, no matter how long the flight. She couldn’t balance in three square feet of space. And the one time she’d let Sean convince her to join the mile-high club? Utter disaster.

  Sean. Something in her heart swelled and she had to push it away before it turned into tears all over again.

  “C’mon...why is the bathroom so hard to find?” She dodged a young mother chasing down her toddler sons and muttered under her breath. Finally a sign for the ladies’ room popped up in front of her. She slipped into the last stall on the left and dropped her pack.

  Dakota stared at her warped reflection in the metal door, cursing the corkscrew curls that stuck out in all directions. She’d tried to pin it back, but nothing really worked. She hated her hair, resistant to every styling device and straightening product on the market. Actually, she hated her height, all of five foot one inch on a good day. And her too-small feet, impossible to shop for unless she snuck into the kids’ section. And her eyes, of course. Some people called them cool, but she usually just added them to her list of things-I-despise-about-myself.

  And don’t get me started on the way I manage to choose the wrong guy. Every single time.

  At the sink, she avoided another glance in the mirror. She didn’t really want to know how puffy the circles under her eyes had become. I’m not crying over him anymore, she swore as she scrubbed her hands. He’s not worth it.

  Her cell phone rang, startling her from the memories. Sarah. Thank God. “Hello?”

  “D? I got your message. Are you seriously coming to Memphis? Today?”

  “Ah, yeah. Sorry. I know it’s totally last minute. I hope that’s okay.”

  Sarah whooped, and for a minute Dakota couldn’t hear anything but muffled conversation on the other end of the line. “Of course it’s okay. It’s fantastic!” Then she paused. “Nigel just let you off work? In the middle of June?”

  “I had vacation time.”

  Another pause. “You broke up with Sean, didn’t you?”

  Dakota found her gate and handed her boarding pass to the flight attendant. “Um...it’s a long story. But kind of. I mean, yes. I broke up with him.” No more waffling. No more even thinking about giving him a second chance.

  “Aw, hon. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  “I guess. I just—” Dakota’s voice broke. “I just need to get away for a couple days.”

  Sarah’s voice poured over her, warm and comforting. “Then you’re coming to the right place. Really. You’ll love it down here. And forget about that jerk. He’s not worth even ten minutes of tears.” She said something else that Dakota couldn’t make out. “I never liked him, anyway.”

  “You never met him.”

  “Whatever. I could tell. ‘No, he’s busy toni
ght.’ ‘No, he doesn’t stay over because he has to get up early and work out.’ ‘No, he’s still sorting out the details of his divorce.’”

  “You don’t have to be cruel about it.”

  Sarah’s voice softened. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I just—listen, when you get here, we’ll party our brains out. You won’t even remember that guy in a few hours.”

  That sounded perfect. Just what she needed. “Good. I’ll call you when I land.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Philadelphia.”

  “Already? You’ll be here...when? A couple of hours?”

  “Yes. But I can take a cab to your place. Just give me your address.”

  “You will not take a cab. I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

  “I didn’t think you had a car.”

  “Gunnar does.”

  “Who’s Gunnar?”

  “My really good-looking, really nice, downstairs neighbor. The one I told you about, like, two months ago. Do you ever listen to anything I tell you?”

  “Oh. Sure.” Dakota tried to flip back through the weeks, to remember her friend’s mention of a new Nordic god in the apartment complex, but all she could think of was Sean. Sean’s eyes lighting up when she walked into a room. Sean’s hands across the small of her back. Sean’s voice in her ear, late at night. She bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

  “D? What’s your flight number?”

  She rattled off four digits as she headed down the ramp. Forget about Sean. This was the right choice. She couldn’t wait to see Sarah. Actually, she couldn’t wait to be somewhere—anywhere—that wasn’t Little Lakeside. She wondered what Memphis looked like, how big, how overwhelming. She wondered if people spoke with funny accents there. She wondered—

  Her phone rang two seconds after she hung up.

  Sean. The phone slipped from her hand and bounced down the ramp. Dakota stood and stared at it, as if it had sprouted wings and leapt into the air. Around her, travelers filed toward the plane. A little boy with his thumb in his mouth looked up at her, wide-eyed. The ringer went silent as her voicemail answered. She ducked and scooped it up before anyone kicked it and sent it careening out of sight.

  Turn it off. You’ll have to in a few minutes anyway. But she didn’t. She wondered if he’d leave a message. Nope. The phone rang again, and again she almost dropped it.

  Against her better judgement, this time she answered. “Hello.”

  “Dakota?”

  Oh, God. His voice, quiet and smooth, made her want to turn around and run all the way back to New Hampshire. She couldn’t form any kind of answer, couldn’t form a single syllable around the marbles of pain that filled up her throat.

  “Listen, I thought I might stop over in a little bit. Maybe we could have some coffee and talk. I feel bad about the way things ended this morning.”

  Dakota frowned. He made it sound like they were colleagues who’d missed their morning lattes. He wanted to talk? About what? The way he’d walked out of her apartment without one glance behind? The wonderful way he wanted to mend his marriage? The ache in the center of her chest that hadn’t stopped hurting since he left? She ducked through the doorway of the plane and scanned seat numbers.

  “Hey, you still there?” His voice grew faint as the reception dimmed.

  “Yeah.” Dakota slid into her aisle seat and shoved her backpack under the seat in front of her.

  “I also need—I think I left something at your place.”

  Her teeth clamped together. That’s why you’re calling? Because you forgot a pair of underwear or a stupid t-shirt?

  “I burned everything,” she lied.

  “Come on.” He sounded edgy, nervous. “You didn’t.”

  “I got rid of it all.” Most of it, anyway. And what’s left is hitting the trash when I come back.

  “Already? Wow, that was fast.” He made a strange sound in his throat. “Can I come over anyway?”

  Dakota settled into her seat. “That might be kind of difficult,” she said, “since I’m on my way to Memphis.”

  Silence filled her ear for a minute. She imagined the look on Sean’s face, puzzled, slightly annoyed, then calculating, as his mind switched over to cop-mode and he analyzed the situation. “You’re on your way right now. To Tennessee.” He made it a statement rather than a question, as if he were confirming facts from a witness.

  “Yup.”

  “Why?”

  Why do you think? To find some room to breathe. To heal. To forget the way you reached inside my heart and twisted it all apart.

  “I needed to get away.”

  “From me?”

  Of course from you, Einstein.

  “What’s in Memphis?”

  “Sarah. My best friend.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe next week. Maybe later.” She smiled at the thought of staying down there for a month or more and letting the sunshine blaze away the memory of his hands on her skin.

  “You can’t just run away from everything.”

  “Actually, I can do whatever I damn well please.” She buckled her seatbelt. “And I’m not running away from everything. I’m just running away from you.”

  “Excuse me.” A flight attendant, a young redhead dressed in head-to-toe navy, bent over Dakota. “You’ll need to turn off your cell phone. We’re going to be departing in a few minutes.”

  “Hang on,” Dakota said. “I have to finish telling off my ex-boyfriend.”

  “Dakota—”

  “Sean, I’m going to Memphis. And when I come back, I don’t want to see you. Or have coffee with you. Or do anything else with you ever again. You’re going back to your wife. Fine. If you left anything at my place, I’ll mail it to you when I get back.” Or leave it in the middle of the street and let the garbage man carry it to the dump.

  “Just let me—”

  Sean’s voice disappeared in mid-sentence as Dakota clicked off the phone and shoved it into her backpack. Around her, she heard muffled laughter, and she guessed half the plane had heard her conversation. Well, she didn’t care. She couldn’t wait around for him to make up his mind about his marriage, or help him sort out his life, or pick up the pieces he’d scattered in her apartment. It sapped every last bit of her energy. What had he left at her place that was so damned important, anyway? She tried to think and couldn’t come up with anything. Though Sean had lived by himself since separating from his wife, he rarely left much at Dakota’s apartment. Never anything that might have tied him down or made it feel as though he actually lived there half of every day.

  He was probably talking about his stupid DVDs or the artwork they’d bought together at the flea market in Boston. Maybe the shirt she’d borrowed to sleep in so many times that the hem had frayed. It didn’t matter. She had no intention of letting him back into her apartment or into her life. If he wasn’t ready to divorce his wife, then she wasn’t about to wait around and be his second choice.

  “Men.” Her seatmate, an elderly woman with cropped gray hair, patted Dakota on the arm. “More trouble than they’re worth, most times.”

  Dakota eyed the woman’s ringless fingers. “No kidding.”

  “You’ll find Mr. Right.”

  “Yeah, I know. When I stop looking.” She’d heard all the advice before, a thousand times.

  But the woman wrinkled her nose. “Not true. Of course you have to look. How on earth will you know he’s the one unless your eyes are open?”

  Dakota leaned back against the seat, suddenly tired. “It doesn’t matter if my eyes are open or not. I always choose the wrong ones. I wouldn’t even know how to look for the right one. Or where.”

  The woman smiled and the lines at the corners of her eyes deepened. “Oh, that’s easy. He’ll be the one who steps in front of a train for you. The one who climbs buildings to move them out of your way. The one who faces down dragons and brings you breakfast in bed the morning after.” She smi
led. “Anyone less isn’t worth your time.”

  Dakota smiled at the thought of someone slaying dragons for her. She hadn’t ever met a guy who would do something like that; she doubted they even existed. In fact, she imagined anyone willing to make those kinds of sacrifices was just made up by Disney or Hallmark to keep girls guessing. Trying not to think of everything she was leaving behind, she sank into a fitful sleep and let the plane carry her aloft.

  2:00 p.m.

  Sean glanced over his shoulder as he let himself into Dakota’s apartment. I’m a good cop. I am. This town hasn’t seen any kind of major crime in the four years I’ve been here. Traffic violations are down. Drunk-and-disorderly calls are down. Hasn’t been a kid killed in a car wreck in almost three years.

  So he’d made a mistake and given in to the weakness of addiction that had plagued him since college. So he’d let his temper get the better of him for a few minutes one night. But no one needed to know, least of all the whole damn town board. Yet that was exactly what would happen if the kid got his way.

  He just needed to retrieve the evidence. At least Dakota was out of town, so she wouldn’t walk in on him as he searched her place for the flash drive. And if anyone asked? Most of Little Lakeside knew they’d been dating. Wouldn’t be too hard to convince a nosy neighbor that he was planning a romantic surprise for her return.

  “Memphis. Jesus Christ. What the hell was she thinking?” She probably wasn’t thinking at all; that was the problem. She acted with her heart first, her head a distant second. He closed his eyes and saw her petite figure again, that first night at the restaurant. She’d sashayed by him half a dozen times, on her way from the bar to the dining room to the kitchen and back again, meeting his gaze with a directness that turned him hard. Two hours later, she’d ended her shift and spent the next hour perched on the barstool next to him. Sometime after midnight, they’d ended up in bed.