Page 115 of Holding On

"Mike, don't worry about it. I got along fine without her."

"You lived in your freakin' car!"

"Yeah, well, I won't do it again. Now can I go to bed? I'm wiped out from work."

"Yeah, go ahead."

When I get to my room, I decide to skip the shower. I'm too tired and it's too late so I just change into my pajamas. After crawling into bed, I check my phone and see a text from Ethan.

Sorry I didn't call. I fell asleep. And sorry for how I was acting earlier. I was having a bad day. Call you tomorrow.

If he was having a bad day, he should talk to me about it, not shut me out, and definitely not take it out on me.

***

The next morning Ethan calls as I'm cleaning the house of Dr. Atwater, a biology professor at Laytham College. He's in his seventies and lives alone in a small house filled with old science journals. He has them stacked everywhere; the floor, the tables, the counters. It's to the point I'd say he has a hoarding problem.

"Hi, Ethan," I say as I dust around a stack of journals. The professor freaks out if you move his journals. I learned that the first day I cleaned here. He came home for lunch and saw me pick up one of his stacks and just about had a heart attack. "I can't really talk right now. I need to finish this house."

"You coming over later?"

"I don't think so. I need to go home and take a quick nap before work. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Because of me?" When I don't answer he says, "Becca, I'm sorry. I just—"

"It's not just you. It's my mom and—never mind." I go to the coffee table and dust the sections that aren't covered with journals. "I have to go."

"Becca, wait. What happened with your mom?"

"I don't want to get into it now. We'll talk later."

"Not if you keep avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you. I just—" I sigh. "Okay, maybe I'm avoiding you, but it's only because I can't be around you when you're like you were yesterday and I don't trust you'll be any better today."

"I am. I promise. Yesterday I just wasn't myself. Something happened and well....it put me in a bad mood."

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Ethan, if we can't be honest with each other then we don't have much of a relationship."

"We don't have to tell each other every little thing. That's not how relationships work."

"Actually it is, at least when it comes to the important stuff. If something put you in that bad of a mood yesterday, you should be able to talk to me about it."

He doesn't respond.

"Okay, well, I have to go so..."

"Will you come over later? Please? I need to see you."

"Why? To have sex?" I ask harshly. "Because if that's all we are then—"

"That's not why I want to see you. Just come over, okay? We'll talk."

"Like actually talk? Like about what's bothering you?"

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