CHAPTER twenty-four
Ethan woke up with a huge headache the next morning. The alcohol, plus the memories of what had happened, pounded his skull like little men wielding little sledgehammers. He liked going to parties and drinking, but not getting drunk, not when it left him crouched over a toilet at seven in the morning. At least when he hung out with Jessica and his friends, their definition of fun didn’t leave him feeling like absolute crap.
Greg hadn’t contacted Ethan after he left the frat house. Ethan had thought about texting him, but every time his fingers pulled up Greg’s number, he’d reminded himself that this was Greg’s fault. Ethan had made his move; Greg was the one who forced him to keep the status quo.
He admired the bright red of the tiles on the bathroom wall right before his stomach wrung itself out again. Each of those shots with Lorna, with Sahil, they all came back up. Exhaustion weighed him down to the floor. He hadn’t slept last night. He’d blacked out, then woken up at six and tried to hold back from puking for an hour. Never again.
Somebody knocked on his bathroom stall door. It took Ethan’s brain a few seconds to process this and what to do next. Um, obviously he was busy.
“Ethan, are you okay?”
He banged his head on the toilet paper dispenser. Of course, Preston had to be the person who found him in this position. This weekend just can’t get any better.
“I’m fine.” His voice sounded creaky and filled with cobwebs.
“You don’t sound fine. Can I come in?”
Ethan couldn’t believe Preston wanted to see him in all his upchuck glory. Yet when he opened the stall door, there he was, waiting with a glass of water in hand. It made Ethan forget that he was nauseous for a few seconds. The water splashed down his throat and gave his insides a well-needed shower.
“Thank you.”
Preston smiled at him. Those green eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lighting. Any lighting worked for Preston.
“Someone had fun last night.”
“I wish.” Ethan sipped at the water. He figured big gulps would come right back up. “How was Dave’s show? I’m sorry I missed it.”
“It was good. Dave had a rap solo for one song. Who knew the whitest guy at Browerton could rap?”
Ethan wished he could’ve seen it. He’d enjoyed a capella shows in the past, and he probably would’ve loved this one. Maybe his friends weren’t so lame, like Lorna and Greg kept telling him.
“How was Jessica?” Ethan asked. His stomach turned thinking about their fight last night.
Preston bobbed his head back and forth—trying to find a diplomatic way of telling Ethan she hated his guts, probably.
“I just don’t get why she’s so uptight about drinking. This is college. Everybody does it. It’s fun!” Ethan glanced at the toilet. “Sometimes too much.”
Preston got quiet for a moment, and Ethan could tell he’d better listen closely to what came out next.
“Her dad’s an alcoholic. Been in and out of rehab twice.”
Ethan shuttered his eyes. Pieces of Jessica clicked together.
“Guess where he got turned onto the sauce.”
“College.” Ethan didn’t need to guess on that one.
“Yeah, she’s pretty sensitive about it. She doesn’t want to see us go down that path.” Preston squatted down to Ethan’s level, and his clean scent filled the space between them.
“I’m not an alcoholic. I just do it to be social.” Does getting drunk with one other person in her room count as being social? Ethan could see how that was a slippery slope. A pang of sympathy blazed in his chest. If he’d known how much drinking affected Jessica, he wouldn’t have gotten trashed in her room, right under her nose. That wasn’t just disrespectful. It was downright cruel.
“I didn’t know!” Ethan said.
“Dave and I are the only ones she told. I figured you should know, that it’ll help explain things. Please keep this between us.”
Ethan lay his head on the toilet seat, which he knew was filled with germs, but he felt even grimier. There were valuable moments from last night: dancing with Lorna, taking shots with Sahil, giggling and talking and bonding and letting the night take hold of him. He didn’t want to cut out that life completely.
His nerves sprung awake, and he lifted his head. A damp towel massaged his neck. The cool beads of water soothed his skin. He craned his neck and saw Preston behind him.
“Thought this might help,” he said. “Well, until you throw up again.”
Ethan’s stomach turned, but in a good way this time. He and Preston had never touched, not like this. His neck had never felt so warm.
“Thanks. Why are you up so early?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Preston stopped rubbing the towel. “Blake and I broke up last night.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ethan said. Sadly, he was so hungover and hurt from Greg and Jessica, he couldn’t enjoy the news.
Preston shrugged. “It just wasn’t working out.”
“Sometimes it’s better to know that now and end things upfront rather than drag it out. You think you’re sparing someone’s feelings, but people get hurt much worse when you drag it out.” Ethan knew this all too well and gulped back a lump of heartache.
“That’s a good point. You’re very wise, Ethan.”
“Or so I’ve been told.”
They shared a moment when their eyes did all the talking. For Ethan, the silence was ten times scarier than any awkward conversation he’d tried to initiate with Preston. His body rumbled with conflicted feelings and emotions—
And vomit.
Actually, it was just vomit.
“Will you excuse me?” Ethan asked, kneeling over the toilet.
Preston got the hint and closed the stall door on his way out.
Φ
Ethan’s nausea returned on Tuesday, but no alcohol was involved. He stood on the bottom step of Bamberger Hall. He could avoid Greg, but he couldn’t avoid Con Law.
He couldn’t bear sitting next to Greg, not after everything that had happened. It would be torture to look at that face and know that Greg didn’t want to be with him.
He steeled himself as he reached the lecture hall. Instead of going to his regular seat, he stood against the opposite wall, using every fiber of willpower not to glance at Greg. Professor Sharpe had more energy than usual today. He bounced around the stage and asked questions to students. At least somebody had a good weekend.
His usual section of front row suck-ups provided all the answers. Ethan squatted on the floor and did his best to take notes without toppling over. His old self would be so ashamed of him right now, slumming it on the floor in a class he wanted. What happened to Ethan the good student? Or is he now Party Ethan? Or still Nerdy Ethan? He had trouble juggling all the versions of himself he was trying to be.
“Now, when was the first, last, and only time we repealed an amendment from the Constitution?”
“1933. Prohibition.”
That was Greg’s voice. In the front row? Ethan stood up and scanned the suck-up section.
“Very good, Greg,” Professor Sharpe said.
Greg, in the front row, wearing a button-down shirt and khakis, beamed with pride. An older man sat next to him in a full suit and patted his shoulder.
What. The. Hell.
“Everyone, we have a special guest in class today,” Professor Sharpe said and pointed at the man in the full suit. “This is Justice Warren Sanderson, Fifth Circuit Court of Virginia.”
Ethan had to blink twice to fully digest what he’d heard. Greg, the Greg Sanderson who could care less about law, had a federal judge for a father. Everything and nothing made sense at the same time, and like any good aspiring lawyer, Ethan had to dig deeper.
Φ
Justice Sanderson, Greg, and Professor Sharpe stood around bullshitting after class. Ethan waited in the hall and eavesdropped as best he could. He wondered if he would ever reach a high enough status to have a friendly chat with a judge or an esteemed lawyer. Greg nodded and smiled and played along, but he probably could care less. Life’s best gifts were spoiled on the wrong people.
Ethan played it cool, pretending to check his notes, while Greg and his dad left the lecture hall.
“Hey,” Ethan said, acting pleasantly surprised to bump into Greg. Panic flickered in Greg’s eyes. He had never seen him this nervous, and he enjoyed having the upper hand for a brief moment. “I didn’t know your dad was sitting in on class. I’m Ethan Follett, a friend of Greg’s.” He caught Greg holding in a breath at the word “friend.” “It’s nice to meet you.”
Justice Sanderson gripped his hand in a firm shake. Ethan felt seriously underdressed in his hoodie and jeans. He wondered if Greg’s dad knew his son usually wore warm-up pants.
“Nice to meet you.” Justice Sanderson wore thick glasses and a serious expression that seemed like a perpetual scowl. “So how do you know Gregory?”
Ethan stifled a laugh. Gregory. If only he knew.
“From Constitutional Law. It’s a great class. Professor Sharpe has so many interesting stories. I can’t believe he’s argued before the Supreme Court.”
“Professor Sharpe,” Justice Sanderson said with a laugh. “I remember when Wendell argued a case in front of me years ago. He was, shall we say, rusty.”
“Dad, you don’t have to talk about work.” Greg wouldn’t look at Ethan.
“What brings you to Browerton, Justice Sanderson?”
“I was visiting a colleague in Pittsburgh and thought I would pay my son a visit, make sure he’s applying himself.”
“I am, Dad.”
“Are you? Did you sign up to take the LSATs yet?” Every question that came out of Justice Sanderson’s mouth sounded like a cross-examination.
“I’m working on it,” Greg said through gritted teeth.
“By the time you work on it, the admissions deadlines will have passed.”
Ethan tried to hold himself back from fangirling, but this was the first time he had ever met a judge. “Your Honor, it is…an honor to meet you, I just have to say.” He couldn’t stop staring. He was surprised he could talk. He was having a conversation with a real live judge! Now he wished he had worn a suit, too. “I’m curious what you think of that immigration case making its way through the Texas courts.”
“I think there’s a good chance it gets turned over on appeal.”
“Like Ardsley v. State of Arizona?”
“Precisely!”
“Dad, let’s not talk shop all day long.”
Justice Sanderson pointed at Greg. “My son, the reluctant legal scholar. I’m glad I’m finally meeting a friend of yours who has more on his plate than drinking and chasing around girls. Walk with us, Ethan.” He led them downstairs to a bench outside the building and ran his wrinkled hands over the dedication plaque. He signaled for Ethan to come closer.
A gift from Grover and Missy Sanderson, Class of ‘51
“That was my father, Gregory’s grandfather,” Justice Sanderson said, his chest bulging with pride. “Browerton has been good to the Sandersons. It’s educated us, given us character.” He clapped Greg on the back, and Greg seemed to wince at the touch. The air had a crisp breeze, and yellow and orange leaves swept across the pavement. “So what type of law do you want to practice, Ethan?”
“I would love to stay with constitutional law, possibly work for the state’s attorney.”
“It’s a great training ground. You can go anywhere after that. I never got those lawyers who just wanted to work in some cushy law firm where you get no legal experience. I know lawyers who haven’t stepped inside a courtroom since they passed the bar. Sure, you get a nice paycheck, but your brain turns to mush.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Greg cracked—a glimmer of the Greg Ethan knew. Not Gregory.
“Gregory, please. You don’t want that. You aren’t going to Harvard Law just so you can file motions and do document review all day.”
“I didn’t know you got into Harvard Law?” Ethan asked.
“He hasn’t yet. But it will happen. Once he finally takes the LSATs.” Greg kicked some stray leaves. “I will.”
“Has he talked to you about his preposterous plan to take a year off before going to law school?”
A simple question, but Ethan felt the pressure to answer correctly. He had wanted to see a new side of Greg, not get stuck in his family drama. Greg had never looked this beaten down. His smirk had gone into the witness protection program.
“Greg’s smart and savvy. I’m sure he’ll make good use of his time.” Ethan gave Greg a half-smile, but it may have been too little too late.
“If you take a year off to bum around, then you look like a slacker. How about you, Ethan? Where are you headed next?”
“Well, I’m only a sophomore. But I’m hoping to intern at a law firm this summer.”
“Hopefully, your enthusiasm will whip my son into shape.”
Greg pursed his lips like he was holding something back. Ethan didn’t want to know what.
“How about it, Gregory? Come up with an idea for what you want to do on your year off?” Justice Sanderson’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Your brother went to Harvard Law right after undergrad, and he loved it.” He then turned to Ethan. “He’s now clerking for a state supreme court justice in Florida. Gregory could have that, too. I suspect he’s having a little too much fun in college. Is he?”
Greg’s clenched expression remained.
“He’s very studious. I was having trouble keeping up in class, but he helped me understand the material. He’s a natural.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. There’s still hope yet for you, boy.” He patted Greg’s shoulder, only it didn’t seem like the supportive gesture Ethan saw previously.
Greg stood up. “Dad, what time is your flight? We should probably get you to the airport.”
Justice Sanderson checked his watch. “The limo is picking me up in about an hour. Let’s grab some lunch first. Care to join us, Ethan?”
Ethan didn’t have to view Greg’s expression to know the proper answer. “Thank you for the offer, Justice Sanderson, but I have class. It was great meeting you.”
Father and son walked off toward town, and Ethan slunk back to his dorm.