Chapter Nineteen

Ethan

Becca left an hour ago and I already miss her. We spent the afternoon in bed, then made dinner and ate outside on the patio and talked. We avoided talking about our families and instead talked about other stuff, like movies and music. It turns out we like a lot of the same things, which I already knew, but the more we talk the more I find we have in common.

After dinner, we went to my bedroom again because shit, when the sex is that good, you want to keep doing it. Then we watched movies until she left a little after eleven. Now I'm trying to sleep but the bed feels empty without her.

I get out my phone and text her. She's probably asleep but she'll see it in the morning.

Miss you, I text.

The dots appear as she texts me back. Miss you too.

You in bed?

Yeah, but I can't sleep.

Why not?

Thinking about my mom.

I call Becca, and when she answers I say, "Stop thinking about her."

"I can't. I'm so freakin' mad at her."

"She doesn't deserve it. You're just wasting energy being mad at someone who doesn't care." I realize that sounds harsh and say, "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I know she cares. I just meant—"

"No. You're right. She doesn't care. If she did, she would've helped me when I needed it. She doesn't see Mike and me as her kids. We're her past. A past she doesn't want any part of."

"So stop worrying about her. You can't change her. You just need to let her go."

"I would but she keeps coming back."

"You can't let her. Not if it's not what you want." I pause. "So do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you want her in your life? I know you say you don't, but is there a part of you that does?"

She's quiet, then says, "Maybe a small part." She sighs. "God, I hate admitting that."

"But by admitting it, and owning it, you can change it."

She laughs. "You sound like one of those motivational speakers. Maybe that should be your career if you decide not to play football."

"I'm serious. The only way you can change is by acknowledging the truth. And the truth is, a part of you still wants your mom to be part of your life. You're not ready to let her go."

"Which doesn't make sense. She left us. I shouldn't even care about her."

"But you do because she's your mom and she's the only parent you have left. I can see why you're not ready to close that door."

She gets quiet again. I wait for her to say something but she doesn't.

"Becca, you still there?"

"Yeah. I was just thinking about what you said."

"What are you thinking?"

"That you're right. She's the only parent I have left so I keep hoping she'll act like a mom again. But I need to stop thinking of her that way. She's not my mom anymore. She stopped being a mom a long time ago. "

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure. I keep trying to cut her out of my life, but I still hold onto the dream of her showing up at my door, wanting to be a mom again. After what I found out this morning, I think it's time to give up that dream. I think it's time to cut all ties to her."

I agree, but I don't say it because I want this to be Becca's decision and not influenced by my opinion.

"Thanks for the talk," she says.

"We're done?" I chuckle.

"We don't have to be, but it's late and we should probably go to sleep."

"I'm not tired. I spent most of the day in bed."

"We weren't sleeping." I hear the smile in her voice.

"We slept for part of the time. You wiped me out. I had to sneak in a few short naps."

"I wore you out?" She laughs.

"I'm just kidding. I could've gone all night." The thought of that has me remembering what we did earlier, wanting to do it again. "I wish you were here right now."

"Where?" she asks in a flirty tone.

"In my bed. Naked. So I could do what I want to do to you."

"Which is what?"

I proceed to tell her, in graphic detail, exactly what I would do if she were here.

"Okay, I think I need a cold shower now," she kids.

"Or you could just come over here."

"It's after midnight."

"So?"

"I have to be at work at nine."

"Then we have plenty of time."

"I need to sleep."

"Which we'll do after we do what I just described. So what do you think?"

"Hmm. Stay here, unable to sleep, thinking about my mom? Or have sex with my boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms? It's a tough choice."

"So I'll see you in a few minutes?"

"Give me a half hour. I'm going to pack some clothes so I can go to work straight from your house in the morning."

"You need to start leaving some stuff over here."

"I will. I'll see you soon."

I didn't think she'd say yes. I thought she'd keep coming up with excuses until I finally gave up. But she didn't, because she wants to see me as much as I want to see her. This relationship is moving fast but I can't seem to slow it down. And I don't want to. I like getting closer to her. Learning more about her. Finding out what makes her happy and what makes her sad.

I think I really am falling in love with her. I didn't intend to. Didn't want to. But now that I am, I want to be with her. I want to see her during the day and have her in my arms at night. It seems like the time we spend together is never enough.

When she arrives at my house, I do the things I told her I would do, pleasuring her in every way I know how. And I have no shortage of ideas. I've been with a lot of girls and I'm not a selfish lover. Over the years, I've paid attention and learned what girls like. But doing those things to Becca turns me on more than any other girl I've been with.

In the morning, she leaves for work. The fact that she spends her days cleaning houses pisses me off. She shouldn't be doing that. She should be back in school, finishing her nursing degree. Actually, she should be at a new school, a four year college, working on the degree she actually wants.

I wish she'd let me pay for her tuition. I have plenty of money. More than I can spend in this small Midwest town where everything's cheap. I'd gladly give Becca the money if she'd accept it, but I know she won't. She's too proud to take money from me or anyone else. So for now, she's stuck working these shitty jobs.

My phone rings. It's Jackson.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Me." He laughs. "I was just watching porn."

"And you called me? What the fuck?"

He laughs again. "I'm just kidding. Lighten up, man."

"So what are you really doing?"

"Eating the leftover lasagna my mom made. As much as I hate living at home, I will miss having my mom make my food. Soon I'll be back to eating frozen pizzas every night."

"Maybe it's time you learned to cook."

"Says someone who grew up with a chef making his food."

"I can still make my own meals. I know how to use a microwave."

"That's not cooking."

"I disagree. So why are you calling? Just to talk?"

"Yeah, and to get you to go to the team party. It's in a few weeks. I know you said you wouldn't go but I was thinking about it, and not going will make people talk about you even more. So if you want to avoid all that, you should show up."

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"No shit? Fuck, I thought I'd have to spend an hour convincing you. What changed your mind?"

"I thought about it and realized if I don't go, you idiots will show up at my door, banging on it until I answer."

He laughs. "You're right. That's exactly what we'd do."

Actually, that wasn't the real reason I decided to go to the party. The truth is that I've been feeling better about things ever since Becca entered my life. I don't know if it's her positive attitude or the fact that I just feel better when she's around or what, but she's made me want to get out of the house and join the world again. I still feel depressed when I'm alone with my thoughts, memories of the accident flashing through my mind, but those memories haven't been as frequent since I've been going out with Becca. Instead my mind goes to her.

"What else is new?" Jackson asks. "You still seeing that girl?"

"Yeah. She spent the weekend here. Left this morning to go to work."

"You let her spend the whole weekend with you? What the hell?"

He's surprised because I've never done that before. I've let a girl spend the night but never anything more than that.

"It's not that big a deal," I say downplaying it so he won't give me shit.

"Are you kidding? You've never let a girl stay the weekend. Are you two serious or what?"

"We're just dating. I had her stay the weekend because I like spending time with her. She's not like the other girls I've dated."

"Meaning what?"

"She doesn't give a shit that I play football. She doesn't even like football."

"You sure she's not just saying that to make you go out with her?"

"She's not like that. That's what I'm trying to tell you. She's not one of those girls looking to profit off of my football career or boost her social status."

"Yeah, whatever."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"I just think you should be careful. Don't let good tits and a hot ass fuck with your judgment. I assume she has both of those."

"She does, but that's not why I'm dating her so shut the hell up."

"Hey, man, I'm just looking out for you. You went almost two months without getting laid and then this girl comes along and gives you all the sex you want? That fucks with your head. You're thinking with your dick instead of your brain."

"That's not what I'm doing. My relationship with Becca isn't based only on sex. I can talk to her. I can tell her shit without feeling like I have to hide things."

"Ethan, you gotta stop that right now. You've only known this girl a few weeks. You can't trust her. She could be using you, trying to get information she could sell to the media."

"I told you, she's not like that."

"Can you prove it? Because if you can't, then you need to keep your mouth shut and stop telling her shit about your personal life."

"She would never go to the media. You don't know her like I do."

"Yeah, I'm not fucking her, which means I can think clearly and see this for what it is. She's using you, man."

"You better shut the fuck up or I'm ending this call."

"Does she need money?"

"Everyone our age needs money."

"Not you. I'm just saying, if she needs money, then there's another reason not to trust her."

"Becca's not trying to get my money. She doesn't even let me give her gas money for driving me around. She works two jobs and pays for her own shit. The girl works harder than anyone I know and she wouldn't take my money even if I offered it to her."

"Yeah, well, I still think you should be careful."

"I gotta go. We'll talk later this week, okay?"

"Yeah. Hey, I also called to let you know I'll be there in a week. I'm coming early to get a break from my sister. She's driving me crazy with all this wedding shit."

Jackson's sister is getting married next summer and has already started planning it.

"I didn't know she'd moved back home."

"She didn't, but she's over here all the time working on the details with my mom, and if every detail isn't perfect, she starts crying and doesn't stop. I can't take it anymore. Anyway, I may have to crash at your place for a few days. The guy subletting my apartment may not be out in time."

"I don't know, man. I got a girl now so I kind of need the place to myself."

"You two can go do it in your room. I won't bother you."

"Who says we limit it to my room?"

"For a couple days you can. How many times have I helped you out?"

"Yeah, you're right. Okay, you can stay but you're not having any parties while you're here, and no girls."

"No girls? What the hell?"

"It's a couple days. You can go without girls for a couple days."

He sighs. "Yeah, fine. No girls. Talk to you soon."

"Yeah, see ya."

My phone rings again but I don't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Is this Ethan?"

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"Emily Canfield."

Canfield. My stomach knots hearing that name. Kasey's last name was Canfield.

"I'm Kasey's sister," she says.

Kasey's sister. Why is she calling me?

"I'm sorry for your loss," I blurt out.

Shit. Why did I say that? I know it's what people say when someone dies, but when I said it, it sounded meaningless. Cold. And not even close to expressing how badly I feel about what happened to Kasey. But I didn't know what else to say.

"I probably shouldn't have called you but..." She sniffles. Shit, now she's crying. "I just have to know...and you're the only one who can tell me." She sniffles again. "Was it fast?"

Fuck, are you kidding me? She's asking me about her sister's death? Ever since it happened, I've tried to block it from my mind. The sounds. Those horrible images. And now this girl wants me to relive it? Why? How does that help?

"Ethan?"

"Yeah. Sorry. The answer is yes. It was fast."

I can still see the flashes of light inside the SUV, the blood splattered everywhere. I can feel Kasey's body over mine, limp and lifeless.

"So she wasn't...in pain?" Emily's voice cracks on the last couple words and a heaviness fills my chest, making it hard to breathe.

It never should've happened. Why didn't I stop Jason from driving? Why didn't I make Kasey put her seatbelt on?

"Ethan, tell me. Please."

"She didn't feel pain. It happened too fast." I rush the words out, knowing they're a lie. I know Kasey felt pain. That's why she was screaming.

I can still hear it. I can still hear the screaming. And I hate it. I hate that I can't get that sound out of my head.

"Listen, Emily, I know you want answers but I have a hard time talking about this, and really, I think it's best if you don't know the details. It only makes it harder. It's better to remember her how she was."

Emily starts crying again. "She was everything to me. I looked up to her my whole life and now she's gone and I don't know what to do without her."

"I'm sorry. I really am."

I don't know what else to say. I wasn't prepared for this, not that that would've helped. Even if you gave me days to think about it, I wouldn't know what to say. I didn't even know Kasey had a sister. I barely knew the girl. I met her that night and spent more time making out with her than talking to her.

"What else can you tell me about that night?" Emily asks.

"We were at a party. At a frat house."

"And that's where you met?"

"Yes."

"So you didn't really know her."

"Not really." I'm sure that's not what her sister wants to hear but it's the truth. "I mean, we talked at the party so I was starting to get to know her but..."

"And she seemed happy? Do you think she was happy?"

"Yeah. She was. She was smiling and dancing and hanging out with her friends."

"And you asked her out?"

"Um, yeah." Actually Kasey asked me out, or rather threw herself at me, but it sounds better to say I asked her out.

"Do you think she's okay?"

What the hell? Of course she's not okay. She's dead. I don't know how to answer that.

Before I can, Emily says, "She's in heaven so she has to be okay, right?"

"Yeah. She's definitely okay. More than okay." I pause. "Emily, have you talked to someone about this? A counselor?"

"Yes, but I needed to talk to you. I needed to know it was fast and that she wasn't in pain."

"She wasn't. I promise." I shouldn't say that, knowing it's a lie, but I can't tell her the truth. And honestly, I don't know how long Kasey was in pain. It couldn't have been very long. She was unconscious when the SUV finally stopped.

"And she was...on you?"

Shit, is she serious? Does she really expect me to relive this? The worst memory of my life? I'll never get those images out of my head and I definitely don't want to talk about them.

"Emily, I'm sorry but I can't go into details. I'm still dealing with this myself and remembering it only makes things worse."

She sniffles. "I understand."

"How are your parents doing?"

I've been thinking about Kasey's parents since the accident. Wondering how they're doing. Wondering if they blame me for Kasey's death. They know she was on my lap instead of buckled into her seat.

"My mom's seeing a counselor but Dad won't go. He's not comfortable talking to someone. He deals with it on his own."

"I know I said it before but I'm really sorry, Emily. I can't imagine how hard this is for you and your parents."

"I just don't understand why she wasn't wearing her seatbelt. Not that it would've mattered, but maybe it would have. I mean, you survived so maybe she could have too."

Why didn't I make Kasey wear her seatbelt? I ask myself that every day and the only answer I can come up with is that I liked her on my lap. We were kissing and she was grinding against my crotch and I liked it. I wasn't thinking of her safety. I was thinking with my dick, and doing so caused her to die. If I hadn't been such a selfish bastard, if I'd been thinking about Kasey and her safety, she might be alive right now.

"I guess I should let you go," Emily says. "Thanks for talking to me."

"Sure." I don't tell her she can call me again because honestly, I don't want her to. Maybe that's wrong, but I can't talk about the accident. I can't keep reliving it.

I lie down on the couch, memories of that night flashing in my head. I can see Kasey before the crash, smiling, laughing, kissing me. And then, in mere seconds, she's gone. If I'd just had her sit beside me, she might have survived. Why didn't I insist she wear her seatbelt? What the hell was I thinking?

There's a knock on the door. I check the clock and see that it's after four. How did it get so late? I haven't even had lunch. I've just been on this couch, reliving that night, wanting to punch myself for how stupid I was to let Jason drive. I should've taken his keys. If I had, none of this would've happened. They'd all still be here.

There's another knock and then the doorbell rings.

"Who is it?" I yell.

"Your girlfriend." I hear Becca laugh. Why is that funny? Does she still not consider herself my girlfriend? If so, that pisses me off. I'm sick and tired of trying to convince her of that.

Fuck, I'm in a bad mood. A really bad mood.

I answer the door and force out a smile. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

She smiles. "I came to see you." She walks past me into the house, wearing her cleaning uniform.

"Don't you need to go home and change?" I close the door.

"I thought I'd change here." She hugs me and gives me a kiss. "You don't mind, do you?"

Actually, I do mind. I'm not in the mood for company, even Becca.

"Um, no. It's fine."

She steps back and looks at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I put the fake smile back on my face.

"Don't lie to me, Ethan. I know you're not telling the truth."

"I'm just tired. That's all."

"Why are you tired? Are you not feeling well?" She puts the back of her hand over my cheek.

I grab her wrist and yank her hand off me. "I'm not sick."

She slowly releases her wrist from my grasp, her eyes searching my face. "What happened? Why are you acting this way?"

Heading to the couch, I say, "I'm not acting any differently than normal."

"You're angry."

"Oh, really?" I sit down, tossing my crutches aside. "So now you can read my mind? We've known each other for what, a few weeks? That hardly makes you an expert in reading me."

She storms over to me. "What the hell?"

"What?" I grab the remote and flip through the channels, needing a distraction from this conversation and the images in my head of Kasey on my lap. Those fucking images have been torturing me since her sister called. Why did Emily have to call? Why couldn't she just leave me alone? Is this my punishment for living? To be tortured by the past? Reminded of it by those who were left behind?

Becca's still standing in front of me. What is she doing here? Why did she have to come over now, when I'm feeling like shit? Normally I'd want her here. But not now. This isn't something she can help me with. Nobody can. I can't even help myself.