Chapter 24

Ethan

FOUR CHAPTERS IN, AND THE story was starting to take flight. It was completely coming back to me, and this time it all seemed right. Finding the first few chapters in an email I’d sent to myself years ago was an added bonus, but this time, my writing was much clearer, and I was feeling confident I’d meet this deadline with time to spare. It may not have been my best work, but it would be something to keep them off my back for now.

I’d been living off coffee for the past two days and my stomach was finally speaking up. I stood up and stretched as I gazed out my office window, wondering when the rain had started. I ran my hand along my cheek line, discovering I was in desperate need of a shave. Come to think of it, I was in desperate need of a shower too, but for right now that would all have to wait because my need for food was stronger. I made my way to the kitchen and stuck my head into the fridge, adding a trip to the grocery store to my list of things to do. My stomach was thankful when I spotted the lone container of food Jenna had made for me. I wasted no time, popping the lid off and sticking it in the microwave.

The moment the food she prepared touched my lips, thoughts of her immediately flooded my mind. I missed her—like really and truly missed her. This was all so strange to me. I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone again. My heart had been locked away and the key was missing forever, but somehow Jenna managed to unlock it, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare me a little. I’d never felt the way I was feeling for her about anyone else, not even Darrah, and I was wondering when it would all be taken from me. Nothing good lasted in my life, especially not something as good as Jenna. So, for now, I was going to enjoy each moment I was lucky enough to have with her and deal with the aftermath of what was sure to come afterward. I’d only texted with her a few times since I’d gotten home and was dying to hear her voice, but I had to focus on getting some serious writing done and talking to her would just veer me off path. So, for now, I was limiting our contact to text messages only, until I could see her again. I scrolled through my phone’s call log at the dozen or so calls I’d blown off in the last couple days. Quite a few from Edward, which could wait, but also some from my sister. I hit her name, deciding to use this little break to call her back.

“Ethan! I was getting worried,” she answered.

My sister’s number one job in life was to worry. If it wasn’t over her kids, it was over me.

“I’m fine, Helene.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to call you for the past two days.”

“Sorry, I have a deadline.”

“Oh—you’re writing again?”

I sensed a hint of enthusiasm in her voice.

“Only out of obligation,” I responded.

“Well, that’s still great news.”

“So, what’s going on? How are the kids?” I changed the topic, wanting to get off me. For the past year, every time I spoke to my sister it was as if she was analyzing my mental state of mind. I knew it was only out of concern, but I wanted her to just stop worrying about me constantly.

“Oh, you know. Kelsey is loving the college life. Josh has this new girlfriend he’s become a little too serious with. So, between her and all the sports he’s involved with, he’s barely ever home. So, basically, it’s just Tom and me. It sucks that they have to grow up.” She sighed.

I was silent for a moment, wishing I’d been given the opportunity with Nolan. Right on cue, she was reading my thoughts like always.

“Oh my God, Ethan, I’m so insensitive. I didn’t mean to—”

“Helene, it’s okay.” I hated that she felt she needed to choose each word she said to me.

“Well, I called to see what your plans were for Thanksgiving.”

I hadn’t even given Thanksgiving a second thought. Truth be told, I wasn’t even sure what day of the week I was in at that moment. “Oh, nothing much. I’m just going to be working on this writing project.”

“We’re going to Dad’s. I’m going to cook there for everyone. He’s not doing too well.” She was cautious with her statement.

“Have fun with that.”

“I would love for you to join us.”

Helene knew better than anyone what my relationship with my father or lack thereof was. The last time I’d seen him was at my mother’s funeral, and I refused to even acknowledge him. It made me sick to watch him play the grieving husband, knowing how much physical pain he’d caused my mother. I didn’t care he’d since stopped drinking and claimed to be a changed man. It didn’t change the shitty way he treated me growing up. He tried reaching out to me after everything went down with Darrah and Nolan, and I refused to accept any of his sympathy. I disowned him as my father a long time ago, therefore he was nothing to my son either.

“Just stop, Helene. It’s not gonna happen.”

“Ethan, this may be the last holiday he’s around. I just don’t want you having any regrets. Maybe make your peace—”

“Me, have regrets? Me? I wasn’t the one who’d beat the shit out of my wife and a helpless child on a regular basis. Maybe he should be the one who has fuckin’ regrets, Helene.”

“I know, Ethan. I’m not downplaying how he behaved, and believe me, once he became sober and realized how he treated you, he—”

My anger sparked. I didn’t want to go off on my sister, so instead, I said my goodbyes before spewing something I couldn’t take back. I wished I’d never called her. Over the years, I’d erased any thoughts of my father from my mind, and the last thing I wanted now was for him to come crawling back into it. I took a few more bites of my food and pushed it away. I headed upstairs, hoping a shower would help clear my head and get me back into the writing mode I was in earlier.

When I walked into my bedroom, I looked up at the custom artwork of the sailboat that Darrah had commissioned for a very hefty price tag. That picture meant everything to her, and it was as if I was noticing it for the very first time in the past year. I walked over and yanked it from the wall, slamming it onto the hardwood floor and stomping on it over and over again until it was unrecognizable.

The phone call from my sister ignited something deep inside me, and in my effort to chase away any thoughts of my father, my anger had shifted to Darrah. My fury didn’t stop there. I opened the doors to her closet for the very first time in over a year. I was no longer afraid to look at her perfectly pressed designer clothes hanging on the racks. I wanted it all gone. Every single memory of her, I wanted erased from my life. She’d taken the best thing that had ever happened to me away, and I hated her for it. Like my father, she no longer existed. I ripped an armful of her garments from their hangers and hurled them onto the floor, repeating the action until every single trace of her was removed from the closet and now scattered amongst the bedroom floor.

“Mr. Banks.”

I jumped at the sound of the voice behind me.

“I didn’t know you were back,” Rosie, my cleaning lady, said as she stared down at the mess on the floor and then back at me. Her dark-brown eyes cast the familiar ray of sympathy I’d become so accustomed to from everyone over this past year.

“I-I-umm...need to take a shower.”

“Did you want me to get rid of all of this for you?”

I nodded. “Yes, please.”

“No problem.” Her tone was soft and gentle, like someone dealing with a complete head case.

I headed into the shower, allowing the steady stream of warm water to flow over me. All the pain, all the self-loathing, and all the guilt that had subsided ever so slightly over this past month was now creeping back into my life. I hated this house and the memories it held. Darrah was right. This was a burden that would be placed on my shoulders for the rest of my life. It may lighten from time to time, but it would always be there, weighing me down when I least expected it, reminding me I was the reason my son was no longer alive. I rinsed and turned off the water when I couldn’t stand being alone with my thoughts any longer.

I stepped out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, surprised to find not one trace of my meltdown from just a short while ago. Rosie had gotten rid of all the clothes and what was left of the picture as well. I stared into Darrah’s now empty closet, wishing I could be rid of her ghost that seemed to haunt me every day just as easily. After getting dressed, I headed down to my office and sat behind my computer, staring blankly at the screen. The writing streak I was on earlier had obviously ended. I poured myself a shot of Jack, hoping that would help to settle my nerves, repeating the process when it didn’t seem to be doing the trick. I lifted my head to the light tapping on my office door to find Rosie.

“Mr. Banks, I’m going to head out now. I took care of everything for you.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“I found this in one of the pockets of Mrs. Banks’ jacket.” She held out a plain white envelope with Darrah’s name written on the front. “It’s just a force of habit. I’m so used to checking the pockets of all your things before I take them to the dry cleaners. Anyway, I wasn’t sure if it was important, so I just thought I’d let you decide what you wanted to do with it.”

I nodded, staring down at the envelope as if it contained a bomb.

“I’ll be back next week, but if you need anything between now and then, please call.”

“Thanks,” I whispered as she walked out the door. I held the envelope in my hand for what seemed like eternity, taking another shot of Jack before finding the courage to open it up.

My Beautiful Angel Eyes,

I’m sitting here grading papers and missing you so much. Hearing your voice today made my day. I can’t wait until we can be together next weekend. I need you to know, you will always be my first priority, and I would never hurt you in the way he has. I love you so much, and I can’t wait to prove that to you someday. You will see that love is a wonderful thing when you’re in it with the right person.

All My Love Forever

~M

I was numb. Darrah had ridden my ass for months for being unfaithful to her while she was doing the same thing. I didn’t think it was possible to despise her more than I already did, but it was. I inhaled deeply, my anger building with each breath I took. For the past year, I blamed myself and my affair for the death of my son, only to find out Darrah wasn’t so innocent after all. I read the letter once again before crumpling it up and throwing it on the floor, then hurling my shot glass against the wall.

“You fuckin’ bitch!” I shouted. My hands were trembling as I grabbed the bottle of Jack and chugged it down, temporarily dulling my pain.