Page 113 of Ethan & Grace

My mum opened her mouth to reply, but I cut in before she could speak.

“Anyway, it’s pretty hypocritical of you to worry about Grace harming my reputation while you’re still with Dad. Your image—the whole hotel’s image—has suffered far more because of him and what he’s done than anything Grace and I could ever do.”

She shook her head. “That’s different.”

“You’ve said that before. But you’re only lying to yourself. You can leave him anytime. You don’t need him. You have enough money of your own. You have friends. And you’ve got me and Henry. That is, if you’re ready to accept the women we love.”

My mum swallowed hard. “It wouldn’t look good in court if I left your dad now.”

“So what?” I snapped. I was getting angry. I was tired of always holding my tongue to avoid hurting her feelings, while she was constantly breaking her own heart by staying with my dad. “It would only look bad for him, not for you. Any sane person would understand why you were leaving him. He was the one who forced all those women into sex, not you. And he’s the one who cheated on you repeatedly, not the other way around.”

At my last words, something I couldn’t quite read flickered in my mum’s eyes. She shook her head and let go of my hands. “I can’t just abandon your dad. He’s lost so much already. You and Henry. The hotel. Some of his closest friends want nothing to do with him anymore. He didn’t even get an invitation to Natalia’s birthday party. Do you have any idea how that makes him feel?”

“Miserable, I hope,” I replied honestly. I would never raise a hand against him again, but that didn’t mean I had to be nice. “Dad has made this world a worse place for a lot of people, including you and me. He doesn’t deserve you or your loyalty, and I’m sick of pretending that it’s not completely fucked up that you still stand by him after everything he’s done.”

I refrained from saying that she should have left him years ago, as soon as she’d found out he was hitting me. But holding the past against her wouldn’t change anything about the present.

The room fell silent. Eerily silent.

I stared at my mum. She stared back at me.

The worry I’d seen in her eyes had turned into disappointment. Not towards my dad, but towards me. My rage evaporated. I couldn’t stay angry at someone I pitied so much. It was a mystery to me how my dad had managed to brainwash her like this, and it broke my heart. But at the same time, it didn’t really surprise me. He was a manipulative bastard, and she had been under his influence for over thirty years.

“I’m not here to discuss your father with you,” she said.

“And I’m not going to discuss Grace with you.” I had said everything there was to say. Either she wrapped her head around it and chose to understand me, or she didn’t. It was out of my hands.

My mum stood up. “I suppose that’s it, then.”

Her eyes had a glassy sheen to them. I hated being the trigger for her pain, even if I wasn’t the true cause of it. But I refused to sacrifice my own happiness to minimise suffering I wasn’t to blame for. “Looks that way.”

“In that case, I wish you a good day.” Her voice wobbled, but she kept her chin lifted bravely as she fought back tears.

A heavy weight settled on my chest. I felt a strong urge to pull her into my arms and comfort her, as I had done so often lately, but I didn’t give in to the impulse. I had to stay strong. For Grace. For myself. For us. And for the chance that my mum might one day realise she was ruining her life for a man who didn’t appreciate her.

44

I love hearing about my little brother’s sex life from my dad’s friends. Seriously, thanks!

Message from Henry to Ethan

Ethan

After that nerve-racking conversation with my mum, I felt like hitting the treadmill. I would have preferred to go jogging in the park, but it was Sunday, and spring was in full swing, which meant the park would be packed. I probably wouldn’t be able to run even ten steps without a tourist getting in my way, and I wasn’t in the mood.

I pulled on my workout clothes and started running. In the past, I’d often used exercise as a way to forget the past, but today, I was driven by thoughts of Grace. My fingers had been itching to message her about how the talk with her parents had gone, but I didn’t want to appear impatient or push her, so I’d held back. I made a deal with myself: Once I’d finished my run, I could text her. By then, she would have had plenty of time to talk to her parents.

After almost an hour, I stepped off the treadmill, my T-shirt completely soaked with sweat. I pulled the heart-rate monitor off my arm and headed to the kitchen to refill my water bottle. As I walked, I wrote a message to Grace.

Me:

Hey, how did it go with your parents?

I downed half a litre of water and waited for her reply, but none came. They were probably still talking. I took my phone into the bathroom and let the warm water cascade over my muscles, but still no answer. Worry began to creep in. Had the talk gone badly? Or were they in the middle of a heated argument?

I checked to see if yesterday’s blowjob lie had somehow been leaked to the press, but there was nothing. In fact, there was no mention of Grace or me whatsoever. The news of Henry’s drug problem, the new allegations against my dad, and the ongoing trial were apparently far more exciting than my love life.

I sent Grace another message.