Page 87 of Present Tense

“Why are we the only ones who know that Ethan and Liam talk all the time?”

Tapioca city.

There’s no ambient sound, only the noise of my heartbeat speeding up, the slosh of blood through my veins. I hear nothing but the anger building in my soul and brain. He won’t be with me, but he thinks he can still talk to my kid? We’re a fucking package deal. He doesn’t get half of us. He doesn’t.

I try and feel my fingertips. I will myself to feel them. And it all settles on me. He’s not coming back. He still talks to Ethan. I’m alone. He was never coming back. Sex in the Vineyard was goodbye, not a pause thing. It was his closure. Why didn’t I get any? Where’s my closure? That’s not fair.

Meg takes my hand. “Are you ok?”

“No. There is no way on earth I’m ok.”

“I’m so sorry,” she blurts out with tears in her eyes. She always wants people to find their happiness. She always feels guilty because she’s so happy with Jake, and she had to leave some people in her wake to finally be with him. But I don’t want her pity. I don’t want her sadness. I want Liam. I want what I know is my destiny. But before I can figure that out, there’s another male I need to talk to first. Who the hell does he think he is going behind my back?

I shift in my chair. Meg points at me with her fork and flicks food on my shirt. I ignore it, but she shrugs. “I know that look. Do not be mad at Ethan, he needs Liam.” My heart cracks a bit. “I know I’m overstepping, but it’s what I do. Jill, look, when you told me about the Vineyard, you even said you went there to apologize and set healthy boundaries.”

I cross my arms and stare at her. I’m not so sure I’m going to like this. “Go on.”

She cocks her head, and a big loopy curl falls on her face. She blows it out. “You’re setting the wrong boundaries. Stop keeping him out.”

Meg is messy. Everyone knows what she’s thinking all the time. She lives her life without limits and restrictions. She loves and lives with her whole heart. I’ve never been more jealous of anything in my entire life.

I’m sitting in our dining room, attempting to work. I love the result of what Meg and I have built in ChiKid, but I don’t love the day-to-day like she does. It gnaws at me. I want my job to be the thing that doesn’t feel like work. But I’m unable to concentrate, mainly because I’m waiting for him to come home. And of course, I’m looking for cracks in my career because all of my personal shit is cracking all over the place. Why not blow it all up?

I hear his key in the door. I’m nervous to talk to him. He yells the moment he closes the door, “Mom! I’m home, and I know you know I talk to Liam all the time. Meg can’t ever keep her mouth shut, and she was worried you’d yell at me. Are you home?”

I smile because it’s adorable how he’s trying to preempt the whooping. Or perhaps just the conversation.

He enters the dining room, drops his bag and stares at me. He squares his shoulders like it’s a gunfight. I look at my long and lanky boy who’s grown a couple more inches. His pants are skimming his ankles. Time, once again, for new pants. His hair, the exact color of mine if I didn’t dye it, is teenager chaotic. Long and rakish. His eyes are a little sad, a bit of a curse from my family. He has my dad’s eyes. My brother stepped up and convinced my dad to go back to rehab. I still can’t talk to him. Ethan straightens his tan duck cloth windbreaker. Another preppy hand me down from Fletch. I want to tell him all the details about my father. Let him in on all the information. As soon as we’re done discussing Liam. No more secrets in this family of two.

“Sit down.”

“Are you going to be nice about all of this?” He points at me, and I bite my inner cheek not to smile at him.

“What are you going to do, leave if I’m not? Sit down, E.” He exhales and lets his jacket crumple to the floor. He glides into a seat and never breaks eye contact.

I close my computer and put both hands on the table. “Spill it.”

He looks at me sideways. “All of it?”

“All of it.” I point my finger at the table. We do this when we indicate that we’ll leave it all on the table.

Ethan takes a big breath in and on the exhale, begins to speak in one long sentence. “Before he left—he told me before you—he said he wanted me to know it had nothing to do with me, and if I needed him he would be there. And he was helping me with the history paper stuff, so I reached out, and he answered, he always does—not like Dad, who eventually calls back—but like, really there. And he taught me how to shave, and he explained stuff that, like, you don’t have the equipment, and I didn’t feel so alone.” I don’t sob but keep a smile on my face as tears run down my face. I nod for him to keep going.

“And it’s not like I felt alone with you, but like, it was different, and he listened, and he’s funny, and he, like, cared, and I don’t know. I mean, Ben has that with Jake, and I was always jealous of Ben, and then I got a Jake. Someone who loved me just as much as he loved you, and then the two of you fucked it up.” He pauses, and I’m going to let him use that word. I nod again and take his hand.

E continues, “I missed him, and he was there. He let me say the things I’m scared to say to you. Like if I’m scared that Granddad is too much. Or if, like, Uncle Rich is too busy to help out, then I shouldn’t be mad at him, he has a life. And that my dad is a nice guy sometimes, but mostly, like, a selfish prick.”

I laugh. “You could have said that one to me,” I say through tears. All the things I worried would happen if Ethan became dependent on Liam didn’t happen. He exceeded all my worries and expectations. No one except Ethan has ever done that.

“Mom. Is it ok that I love him?” He takes my other hand, and he tears up. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. He’s the guy you thought he was, Mom. Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Baby, this is the least upset I’ve ever been with you. You just told me Liam is exactly the man I always dreamed of for both of us.” I rub away the tears and realize how badly I’ve fucked up. He’s so much more significant and brighter, and more important than all the lines I had in place. And so am I. I don’t have to be the person who always holds it together when I know there’s someone in the world to help me pick up my pieces.

Ethan says with a smile, “Ok. Then what are we going to do to fix this?”

I squeeze his hand, and I surrender.

“I don’t know.”