Chapter Thirty-Six
“Avery”
Six years on the road with a rock band, loving a guy—unrequited until recently—from my blogging corner, stage left, and what have I learned?
It’s the epicenter of guy world, the focal point of the good, the bad, the wonderful, and the ugly about men, nakedly revealed in extreme daily doses because in this world—their world—men don’t think women can see a thing worth seeing other than them.
Maybe that’s my fascination with blogging about rock bands and their male-dominated universe. I’ve never been sure until this moment why I picked the testosterone half of the hemisphere. But, yep, I’m thinking this is why. It’s because I’ve had my share of moments like these before Ethan and wanted to figure out men by being embedded in guy world.
I went to where the war was—you know the one I mean—being the girl who doesn’t do relationships well and ends up heartbroken.
I ran from a heartbreak straight into the fires of the world of men, which might seem the wrong reaction to try to fix this aspect of my life—the being hurt by guys syndrome—but no, it isn’t, not really.
Because in the world of rock stars, guys don’t think girls can see and that paradoxically makes them totally revealed to any girl who wants to see a man clearly.
And that, girls, is wisdom.
And power
And equality.
The ultimate goal of a feminist should be to understand men. Men are the enemy, right? Most feminists think so, but how are we to fix the problem if we don’t understand the enemy?
And no, that last part wasn’t learned in guy world. It isn’t the call of any of the great feminists’ writings I’ve read.
I learned that from Khloe.
The ultimate anti-feminist.
The way to being an independent, equal woman in Khloe’s eyes, different from what I’d learned, but I can’t argue the rightness of it.
No, not now, in the fresh aftermath of Ethan flipping on a dime into an asshole with me again.
Khloe’s lesson was simple.
I think this is the gist of it, and I’m a tad emotional this second, so don’t be critical of me if it comes across too simplistic.
Basically, we expect a dog to behave like a dog, and we want to understand it so we can love them, knowing we can never change the dog.
Khloe’s list of metaphors was longer, but at this moment that’s the only one I remember her saying—the dog theory—before she said: “Why should we think we should do differently with men?”
Why not men?
Understand them so we don’t have to change them?
Why isn’t that the appropriate call of a feminist?
Because the enemy they may be, but there’s no denying we want and love and are fascinated by the enemy.
That’s when the scales get balanced, history righted, when we are finally in one universe as equals.
A very direct feminist theory from the mouth of the ultimate anti-feminist.
Or at least I think so standing on the Manzones’ patio with wide eyes staring at a shocked family, me like a deer in the headlights, and them not knowing what the fuck to do about me in this absolutely the worst what-the-fuck moment of my life.
It takes two seconds for my stomach to stop the jumping beans. To figure out what happened with Ethan and to know that Khloe is pure genius.
I’ve got a pretty clear picture of what went down here with Ethan today. First finding out about what the family has been doing to both Eric and him. A single major emotional event—and knowing what I know about how E’s been feeling about his family, it was damn near nuclear—that would be more than enough to send a guy over the edge. And the P-bomb unexpectedly out of Khloe’s mouth didn’t even have a chance of getting mental real estate inside Ethan’s head by then.
Quite simply: men can’t process well two things at once. I could have very much done without that awful part of him spewing in front of his family that our baby is Eric’s, but after giving it thought—very little thought because women do figure out puzzles faster than men—I get what that one’s about.
Fuck, he was drunk that night in his bedroom.
And, fuck, it is possible he doesn’t remember me there.
Scratch that, Avery, he doesn’t.
The way Ethan stared at me was no lie of emotion.
It was shock and hurt and disbelief.
Men aren’t quick enough on their feet to pull that fucking nonsense out of the hat unless it’s something that fits something they really believe. Like I stood him up that night and we never got together later, and that’s enough for Ethan to reach the crazy conclusion that our little bump is Eric’s.
And, shit, if that’s the case, I own this particular piece of awful. I kinda knew he wasn’t mentally all there after the gig at the Bowl—I lied to myself because, fuck, I wanted him more than any guy I’d ever wanted—and I climbed into bed with him anyway.
Yep, that hideous part of today I own.
Girls gotta own their shit and mistakes if they want men to do it as well.
There. Ethan and Avery all figured out. Now what the fuck do I do with the family?
I turn to Alan because he’s the one I feel most comfortable with out of all of them. “Is dinner almost done? I’m starving.”
Alan’s black eyes register something—shock, I think—before his handsome face turns enigmatically blank as a moment of dead, heavy silence descends on the yard that is thankfully shattered by Khloe’s thundering laughter.
“Oh fuck, Avery. You are just crazy enough to fit in here.”
The rest of the family laughs, though I’m not sure if it’s out of anxiety or because they’re gracious enough to go along with me carrying on as if all’s fine with the world in front of them.
“Yes, it’s ready to eat, love,” Alan says kindly. “Why don’t you sit down and let one of the girls fix you a plate?”
I suffer a flash of alarm from what I hear in his voice because it tells me I don’t look as steady as I want to.
An arm slips around my waist. It’s Chrissie, her stunning blue eyes anxiously studying me. “Let’s sit down and get you fed.” And without protest I let her guide me across the patio.
I’m settled at the long outdoor dining table, where most of the family stayed sitting through Ethan and Avery unfiltered. Across from me is a sea of eyes, and there’s no mistaking they’re not sure what to do next.
I reach for a slice of bread. “Really, everyone, I’m fine. I could use something to drink. A little sparkling water, if someone could tell me where it is.”
“Of course you’re fine, baby girl,” Chrissie croons, kissing me on my hair. “I’ll be right back with a little bit of everything for you to eat and that sparkling water.”
I smile up at Chrissie. “Thank you.”
Krystal leans back in her chair, slowly moving her eyes from face to face, then sits up straight, shaking her head. “What happened? Why did Ethan blow up? What did I miss? And who’s pregnant?”
Khloe arches a brow at her sister. “If you don’t pay attention, K-bell, you’re going to miss a family drama or two.”
Bobby juts his thumb in Jacob’s direction. “This one told Ethan the truth about where Eric went and why we’re here before Alan got a chance to explain.”
Krystal’s blue eyes register dismay. “You didn’t, Jacob!”
“Not my fault,” Jacob injects heatedly. “I thought he knew. That Alan had talked to him already.”
“That’s just great,” Kaley groans, tossing her napkin on the table. “You’ve gotta handle Ethan just right or he’ll go into his shell and brood for a decade.”
“He’s just like Mom,” Krystal adds on a fierce, hushed voice. “You should know that by now, Jacob.”
“Exactly like Mom,” Khloe whispers, setting a plate and a glass in front of me. “Think about it. Avery’s pregnant—in case you haven’t figured it out yet, Krystal—and Ethan’s the first one of us to get knocked up in the folks’ house. Exactly like Mom with Kaley at Grandpa Jack’s. Can’t be totally superior over us and our mistakes since he’s not the perfect son anymore. Gotta love it. All his mess laid bare like all of ours always is. Can’t be judgy and the hero when you’re a fuckup, too. Ethan is now officially one of us.”
Oh no, Khloe didn’t just say that.
My gaze shifts to the stares across the table—oh yes, she did; all of Ethan’s siblings are smiling.
Kaley’s face becomes a mime of sympathy. “What are you going to do now, Avery? Ethan was pretty terrible to you.”
I hold my knife and fork above my plate, trying to decide where to dig in first. “Eat this fabulous meal. Then let Ethan fix things later.”
I cut into my steak.
“How can you be so calm? How can you not be furious with my brother?” Krystal inquires.
I shrug. “I’m hungry, Krystal. I’m eating for two.”
“You’re not the least bit panicked over how Ethan stormed out?” she adds.
I shake my head. “No. I’m not. Because he didn’t storm out. He’s in the house somewhere thinking. That’s what Ethan does. Jumps to the wrong thoughts quickly. Goes somewhere quiet to think. Needs to be talked down. I think your dad’s doing that since he’s not on the patio anymore. And before you ask, I’m not angry either. Most of what happened has nothing to do with me. Well, not directly. And the rest of it, Ethan will figure out on his own how wrong he was. I know what I want. I love Ethan, we’re happy together, I won’t let that be ruined by one awful afternoon, and I want to finish this meal before he returns to apologize to me. That’s what I think happens, that’s what he’s going to do, and that’s what I’m doing. Eating my meal while I wait for Ethan to come back and apologize to me.”
Khloe’s beautiful face is bright with a full smile. “No doubt about it, K-bell. Avery understands our brother. Ethan is the lucky one if Avery decides to give him another chance, and I hope someday she marries him. She’d be a great sister-in-law. And I think they’re perfect for each other.”
* * *
“Ethan”
My mind says get to the fucking car and burn rubber out of here, but my legs take me to my old room in the house, and I flop back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
What a fucking piece of shit afternoon.
I’m fed up with having my brother turn my life to shit. First Tara. Now Avery. But nope, can’t do it. Can’t step in, take care of another Eric mess, pretend it doesn’t matter to me, and keep on loving Avery.
Why the fuck is that what I want to do the most?
Keep on loving Avery.
It felt like dying walking from her.
Like I was making the biggest mistake of my life.
Face it, Ethan, you’re certifiable to want her, knowing she’s knocked up by Eric. It’s the Tara nightmare all over again.
What the hell is wrong with me?
On repeat, I play my argument with Avery in the backyard. She didn’t deny my accusation that her baby’s Eric’s. In fact, she confirmed it: “Three months ago was the night after the gig at the Bowl, Ethan. Do you want to redo your math before I walk from this house and never speak to you again?”
Only she wasn’t with me that night; she was with him.
Why would she throw that in my face?
She couldn’t have forgotten that part of our history, that she ditched me in the middle of our first date for Eric.
Devastated, I’m not sure why I’m even sticking around here. No fucking way am I going back to the family barbecue from hell. No way am I ever talking to Avery again.
The problem is I’m so numb I can’t move.
I want to cry.
I want to punch something.
I want Avery out of my head.
And I want Avery here now.
Fuck, I’m an idiot and a fool.
Only a fool loves a woman who could do shit like this to him.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door that I stupidly left open. I don’t look. I know it’s Alan standing behind me. Pop has a presence that you can feel, sight unseen.
“That’s an exceptional girl you left on the patio—” A long pause that has the power to halt my racing thoughts and emotions, honing them in on him. “—plotting your death with your sisters.”
“Great. Exactly as I expected. My death.” A single harsh laugh fights its way through the emotion lodged in my throat. Though it shouldn’t surprise me everyone’s on her side. When was the last time anyone in my family wanted Ethan’s side of things? “Pop, I’m twenty-six and not in a mood for a lecture from you. Whatever you came in here to say, don’t. You don’t know everything.”
“I don’t doubt that I don’t,” Alan says without inflection, and I hear a step nearer to me. “And I wouldn’t presume to lecture. It’d be a ridiculous exercise for a man your age and it would make me feel like an ass. But I do have a bit more experience than you do fucking up with a girl. And I love you. So this has to be said. Don’t be a fuckup, son. Only a fuckup leaves a girl like Avery humiliated on the patio alone with his family.”
Humiliated?
She’s the one who’s been humiliated?
Even knowing that’s fuck-ass backward, it rips my insides to hear Avery’s hurting.
I battle not to go back to her by reminding myself that my dad doesn’t know everything.
“I’m sorry Avery’s upset. But I’ve got a few things to be upset about as well.”
I can tell Alan’s standing close to the bed now.
“I’m sure you think you do. For all I know you’re right. But never draw a line in the sand between you and something you want. The only lines none of us can break through are the ones we create ourselves. You don’t draw lines when you love. You ride the bumps. You ride the smooth. You ride the ride however it comes. That’s love. And you don’t let anything come between you.”
My jaw turns to rock with the stiffening of my shoulders. “I didn’t. Avery did. By lying to me and getting with Eric. That’s a pretty fucking insurmountable line in the sand she drew between us. Stay out of it, Pop.”
“If that’s what you think happened, I can see how you’d feel that way. But there are a few relevant points I’m going to make before I stay out of it. Unless Eric knows how to fuck and drive simultaneously, she didn’t hook up with him. What she did is drive around town with him as Carson ordered Eric to, and somehow that amazing girl kept your brother steady enough to get to the pickup point so Jamal could deliver Eric to rehab. She came home with me after that. Maybe an hour before Dillon hauled you in. You were pretty fucked up, son. Quite a surprise for me to see you that way. Rolling on something and half out of your head. Blistering at Dillon to take you to a party and that you were going to kick his ass about getting rid of the bangers for the evening because you hadn’t even gotten your dick sucked yet. You said a lot I’m glad your mother didn’t hear. Even though you’re twenty-six and she’s not naïve about things, I think it would have upset and shocked Chrissie. She likes to think of you as her sweet son, her good man, so that she hurts less over Eric.”
My face heats even though I will it not to.
“Dillon came to me to apologize for you and explain why you weren’t being you. Not that I needed him to. It was obvious you were fucked up on something, but that’s Dillon, a good friend. I asked him to sit in a chair in the hallway to make sure you were all right until you came off what you were on. To make sure you didn’t take off or vomit in your sleep. According to Dillon, you were in your room with someone all night, and though he didn’t interrupt to do a well-being check, he knew—and I quote—you were all right because you didn’t stop fucking until morning.”
Alan pauses, as if to let me catch up, and my body covers with icy prickles and my heart stops.
“It was wrong not to tell you what we were really doing with Eric. But if there was another way, I can’t see it. Two last points I’d like to make, Ethan. At the Bowl, the son I said was drowning and wouldn’t ask for my help was you. You’d gotten so used to keeping your brother from sinking, you didn’t know how to let yourself live anymore. Eric never has a problem asking for things. He did ask for my help. He wanted money. And I said no. I sent Graham Carson his way instead. The better solution, I thought at the time, to help both my sons. Eric’s problem wasn’t just his problem. It’d become yours as well. And that was when I decided I couldn’t help Eric. That the only way to fix things was to help you both. To do that, we separated you. And from where I’m standing, it worked out well. Like you were finally starting to focus on the life Ethan wanted. You went after Avery, and she’s a lovely girl. Your mother and I couldn’t have been more pleased with how things turned out, right up to that point you chose to fuck up a good thing on your own.”
Unable to bear what I’m hearing, I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, but there’s nothing I can do to keep my dad from seeing my tears. Holy fuck, I’m crying. That’s never happened before. But what isn’t there to cry about? I’d felt dead before Pop entered the room, and now I feel sealed in the coffin six feet under.
My dad presses a kiss on my head, and I know that’s his signal that this is over and he’s getting out of here. But I can’t let him walk out of the room, not after the shit I said on the patio and all he said in here.
I brush at my damp face and open my eyes.
“I love you, Pop,” I choke out. “I hope someday I’m as good a father as you are.”
Alan turns back from the door and smiles. “I don’t doubt you will be, Ethan. And now why don’t you go tell Avery you want to be a good father, a good man, and the man she deserves you to be?”
I jerk into a sitting position. “You mean she’s still here? She didn’t leave?”
Alan laughs. “No. That girl knows exactly what she wants and goes after it. She loves you in a way most men would envy. The way Chrissie loves me. I’m pretty sure any other woman would have walked out on you, but Avery’s sitting with your sisters and on her second plate of dinner.”