Page 89 of This I Know
He nods. “Yes.”
“Me too. And I believe sometimes mysterious things happen to tell you something, or to help you, and they can’t be explained.” I take the controller from him and sit next to him, ready to play again. “That’s all.”
Ethan
It’s raining.
Actually, it’s pouring. I can barley see the pavement among the thick layers of bouncing gray raindrops on its surface. But I can see that she’s running away from me, as fast as she can, as though her legs are flying; and I can feel that I’m chasing after her. I’m worried that she’s moving so quickly in such wetness, and I want to yell out to her to stop, she might fall. I don’t care that I’m getting wet, and that’s good, because within all of five seconds my clothes are soaked; my socks are soggy, my overgrown hair is plastered against my head in a way that I’m sure looks foolish, and the water from the sky drips down my face and runs off my nose and chin.
When I finally reach her, I use my hand to wipe my face. I’m faster than her, and stronger, of course, and I’ve used that to my advantage.
I take hold of her dangling hand and that causes her to stop. She turns with a look of surprise, as though she somehow couldn’t hear me stomping along behind her.
But I ignore that shock. Once I have her, I release her hand and move my own up to her face. I lean into her and pull her to me at the same time, creating a force she can’t escape from even if she wanted to; which, from the now-yearning look in her eyes, she doesn’t.
“Ethan,” she says, her voice shaky and uncertain. Our bodies are pressed as one. The rain pours down her face just as much as it does mine. It doesn’t ruin any of her beauty, though. Somehow.
“Ethan,” she says again, echoing.
I love to hear her say my name.
And then I wake.
I have no idea what time it is, but it’s still dark outside.
I rub my eyes awake. I slip on my shoes. I’m wearing what are essentially my pajamas – an old training shirt from the days I used to play football and a pair of my most used sweatpants. I make a stop in the bathroom to brush my teeth and try to fix my hair, but I make it quick because despite whatever time of night it is, after that dream I’ve got somewhere to be.
I take a gulp of black instant coffee before I leave. Inside the tipped mug, particles of grinds play at the bottom, trailing against the white porcelain.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
Iwantto do this.
Not for my sake, or the sake of my ego or my conscience. What I’m about to do is for her sake, and her sake alone.
I park in the street, a good distance from her house so that my truck won’t wake anyone up. I take a second to check the time on my phone: 11:40pm, on the dot. It’s later than I thought. This should be interesting.
I turn the key and my truck’s engine stops. It’s quiet outside as I creak open the door and step out into the street. There’s no sign of her mom or any of her neighbors being awake. No lights are on in her house, and only the streetlights and some normal, neighboring nighttime glows come from other houses on the street.
When I reach the front porch the memories come flooding back. Of her hands so close to mine. Of herlipsso close to mine.
What I’m about to do could cause me to lose all of that in one instant. It might be the fastest I’ll have ever destroyed the potential for something good in my life.
Oh,stop overthinking this, Ethan. You’ve got to come clean to her, and that’s why you’re here.
I touch my phone in my pocket, and realize I have to call her. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course I have to call – I can’t just show up here and knock on her door without calling.
Creep factor, man. It’s something you’ve really got to work on.
I pull out my phone. As I scroll through it to find her name, a movement catches my eye. Something’s moving on the right sight of the house. I barely make out a figure in the shadows. A moment or two later, a rustling comes from the same area, and then a heavy breathing. Then a hushed voice.
I silently click off my phone and hide it in my pocket to try and become invisible. I creep closer through the darkness.
With each step I take, the rustling sound intensifies. Just when I’m close enough to peer around the corner of the house, to hopefully see who’s there while staying hidden, I stop to listen to the voices. Whoever it is can’t see me here.
It’s a male’s voice, but I can’t make out the words. Then I think I hear the whispered replies of a female.
