Page 100 of This I Know
My mom hasn’t returned from her errands. After a reassuring text to check in, I’m beginning to wonder if she’s once again taking care of police business, this time due to the fire.
It’s dark outside, and I’ve had enough of this moping. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t do this anymore. I’m still wearing the shorts, and this time I try the button once more with steadier hands. It slips into place with ease, and I drop my hands to my side with gratitude. At least I have something going for me: I can put on my own pants. I grab a dark blue sweater that’s hanging off the edge of the bed and slip that on, too, when I hear my phone chime. I stop what I’m doing.
Please, be you, Ethan.
Wait. What’s wrong with me?
No.Don’tbe Ethan. Don’t, don’t, don’t.
I’m about to slide the phone open with my thumb. I’m ready to face the inevitable. If it’s him, there’s nothing I can possibly say that can make this right, so I guess I won’t respond at all. I hold my breath in the split second it takes for the screen and the message to load.
Turns out, it’s Mara.
Should that really surprise me?
hey. missing you. u ok?
I plop down on the bed, sighing as I sink further into it.
I text her back:
i’m ok
Then, in a separate message:
ethan’s finished.
A knot forms in my throat as I type the words. I try to swallow my way through it, as though doing so will push all the emotions down and away.
I reread the words before I hit that dreaded Send button. Those two small, wimpy sentences, so easy to say –I’m okandEthan’s finished. How can they possibly go together? They’re complete opposites.
I press Send and close my eyes after I see the messages going through. There’s no turning back now. Ethanisover.
When I hear the sound that tells me the message has been delivered, I get up. I need to get out of here to clear my head. Before I can make another move, though, my phone chimes again.
I look at it.
It’s Mara, responding already.
want me to come over?
It rings again instantly.
i’m coming over.
I need to think about that. I’d love to see her, of course, and I’m sure her presence would help me get my mind straight, but I’d love some fresh air, too. And that might be able to do the same thing.
I know what I’ll say. I’ll tell her it’s okay, she should come. We can go for a walk together.
Just as I position my finger on the first key, the doorbell rings.
That was fast. Maybe she was in the area.
I rush through the hallway as fast as I can, my comfy sweater flying open around my body as I hurry toward the door. It’ll be refreshing to see her. I place my hand on the cold door knob and twist, swinging it open. With a welcoming smile on my face, I cradle my body against the door and look up, expecting to see her familiar face in front of me.
I do see a familiar face, but it’s not her.
And it’s not him, either. It’s not the one who, deep down, I’ve been secretly hoping it would be.
