Page 39 of Ethan & Grace

“Is everything all right?” she asked, setting down the second pot.

I dropped the lid back down on what I now saw was a pot of curry. Not only had my appetite instantly vanished, but I felt a bit nauseous. “That’s Amy’s favourite dinner. Not mine.”

My mum’s face tightened. “I’m sorry. I must have got that mixed up.”

I grunted but said nothing, because it was ridiculous how much that hurt. Amy and I had often been mistaken for each other, but never by our parents. They had always made an effort not to mix us up so we wouldn’t feel interchangeable. And now that Amy was gone, it had happened to my mum for the first time since I could remember.

“I’ll make you meatballs tomorrow,” she promised. I nodded and helped myself to a small portion of rice and curry. Jason and my dad exchanged a brief look across the table before serving themselves too. My mum didn’t move, and I could see the tears shining in her eyes. But I knew they weren’t for me—they were for Amy, who couldn’t be here to share her favourite meal with us. After a few moments, my dad reached for my mum’s plate and served her a portion.

“How was work today?” he asked, turning to me.

“There was a big power outage.”

“We didn’t have one here,” my mum said, taking a tiny bite.

“It was just at the hotel.”

My dad grunted. “Probably something wrong with the distributor.”

I gave a clueless shrug. Silence settled over the table for a moment. My wordless replies were hardly helping the conversation along.

Then my dad turned to Jason. “How about school?”

“Good,” Jason replied with his mouth full.

Our dad didn’t let it go. “And how’s it going with Tamil?”

Jason nearly choked on his curry in shock.

Dad laughed. “Good, then.”

Coughing, Jason reached for his glass of water, glaring at our dad. But his anger didn’t last long. Suddenly, he looked sheepish. “Yeah, well . . . we were thinking of going to the cinema together at the weekend. Can I?”

“Oh, a date!” My dad grinned, delighted, which struck me as a little hypocritical considering how he’d reacted the first time I went out with a boy. Back then, he’d been anything but delighted. “Did you hear that, love? Our little boy is going on his first date at the weekend.”

“Yes. It’s incredible. You’ve grown up so fast.”

Jason blushed even redder, but beneath his embarrassment, there was pride. He was fifteen, a teenager, and eager to shed everything that still marked him as a child.

“Speaking of being grown-up . . .”

“We’re not buying you alcohol for your date.”

“No, Dad! That’s not what I wanted to say. It’s about my room.” Jason pushed the food around his plate nervously with his fork. “You know how much I’ve complained about my room being too small. Especially now, with that new keyboard you got me for Christmas. So I was wondering if I could maybe have Amy’s old room.”

“No way,” I burst out. What a question!

Jason glanced at me. “Why not? She doesn’t need it anymore.”

“Because it’s her room. Where would we put all her things?”

“We could donate them,” my dad suggested.

“What?!” I stared at him in disbelief. He couldn’t be serious. I couldn’t believe it. It felt like I’d entered another universe—or run straight into one of my nightmares. “Please tell me that was a joke.”

My dad reached across the table and laid a comforting hand on my trembling fingers, giving me a soothing smile. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but Amy is gone, sweetheart. She’s not coming back, and this way, we’d finally have a living room again.”

I tore my hand away so violently that my elbow whacked into the back of the chair. Pain flared up, but it was nothing compared to the stab of betrayal in my chest. “You’re putting your own comfort above the memory of Amy? What kind of shitty parents do that?”