Page 48 of Holding On

Chapter Ten

Becca

"You sure you aren't going to school for psychology?" Ethan asks, a smile on his face.

I smile back. "I'm just saying what I know based on personal experience. I didn't say I was right. And maybe it's different for you. I don't know your situation enough to say. I was just offering a—"

"No. You were right. That's exactly how it is."

I nod, but don't push him to tell me more. I get the feeling that what he told me isn't something he shares with a lot of people. Maybe he's never even told anyone that until today. If so, I'm not sure why he told me but I'm glad he felt that he could. And because he did, I was able to tell him about my own issues.

That stuff about my mom and how I tried to make her come back? It's something I've never told anyone, not even Mike. I'm not even sure I could say it to Mike. If I did, he'd push me to go see her and tell her how I feel, but that's not what I want to do. I've made peace with the fact that she's not coming back. I don't want to rehash the past, pour salt in old wounds.

But the fact that I tried so hard for so many years to get her back was a secret that was weighing me down. Telling Ethan that secret felt good. Really good. If I'd known how much better I'd feel telling that secret, I would have said it a long time ago. Then again, I didn't have anyone I felt comfortable enough to share it with. Until now.

I finally found someone who understands. Who knows what it's like to desperately want attention and approval from someone who isn't capable of giving it. It's taken me years to get to the point where I've stopped trying to live my life for my mom and to live it for me instead, but it hasn't been easy, and sometimes I find myself slipping back, searching for ways to get her attention.

I think Ethan is still stuck in the phase of trying to please his dad, and the accident has left him unsure of what to do. If he can't play football, he might lose his dad. But if he does play football again, he'll be doing it for his father and not himself.

"New topic," Ethan says, taking another slice of pizza. "Raincoat or umbrella?"

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I want to get to know you, Becca—wait, what's your last name? Let's start with that."

"Walters."

"Becca Walters. Got it. So, Becca Walters, raincoat or umbrella?"

"I still don't get the question."

"When it rains, would you rather have a raincoat or an umbrella? Assuming you could only have one."

"Raincoat," I say, not even needing to think about it. "I like the feel of rain on my face. But being in soaking wet clothes isn't fun. And even with an umbrella, your clothes still end up getting wet. So raincoat. Definitely. Which would you pick? Raincoat or umbrella?"

"Neither. I don't mind if I get soaked in the rain, as long as I'm not wearing jeans. Wet jeans suck."

"Totally. So you're saying if you were wearing jeans, you'd pick the raincoat."

"Correct. Okay, next question. Chocolate or fruity? Which type of cereal do you prefer?"

"Hmm. Depends on my mood. In the morning I tend to like fruity but if I'm having it later in the day, I like chocolate. How about you?"

"Fruity. Any time of day." He takes a drink of his pop, then says, "Lights on or off?"

I feel my face heating up, but I smile and pretend his bold question doesn't bother me. "That's kind of personal, don't you think?"

"Why is it personal? I was talking about what you like when you're watching TV. Do you like it dark or would you rather have the lights on? What'd you think I meant?"

He's such a liar. He definitely meant sex not TV, but I play along. "Lights on, but not too many. And not too bright."

"Same here. Next question. Rough or gentle?" He says it with a straight face.

This time I don't question what he means and just answer, "A mix of both."

"That doesn't really work. Most cars are either one or the other."

"We're talking about cars?"

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