Ethan’s footsteps halt when he spots me, he rolls his eyes, shakes his head and walks down the hall without me.
“Ethan,” I say, following him.
He presses the elevator button and this time there’s no time to waste before it arrives.
“Talk to me,” I say.
But he says nothing as the elevator stops at almost every floor before we reach the bottom. Instead of going out the front door, he turns the opposite way and we end up in a courtyard with old outdoor furniture and flowers that look like they could use some tending to.
Ethan sits down on a bench and I sit next to him, although there’s an uncomfortable feeling between us.
“As you know with your eavesdropping, my dad has Alzheimer’s.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.”
I slide closer, hoping this means we can actually talk about it.
“He has these outbursts. Today he forgot how to tie a shoe and got mad. Another day he’ll get into it with his best friend here over whether or not he likes bread pudding.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. God, can’t I think of anything else to say?
He turns his head in my direction and his eyes say it all before the words come out of his mouth. “I know. Everyone’s sorry. Since I was eight years old, everyone’s been sorry.” He stands up. “The pity in your eyes right now? I’ve seen that my entire life and that’s exactly why I don’t tell people. Exactly why I wish you would’ve stayed in the waiting area like I told you to.”
I stand and place my hand on his back. “You can talk to me. I want to be there for you.”
He whirls around. “Be there for me? What are you gonna do, Blanca? Develop some miracle cure for my dad to get his memory back? Even if he did know what the hell was going on around him, nothing would change. My mom would still work six days a week struggling to survive. Out of all of us, he’s actually the lucky one who doesn’t remember our childhood. Lucky bastard.”
He shakes his head at me and rolls his eyes. “Want another tidbit to feel sorry for me about? My dad got laid off when I was eight, tried to get a job for a few years. When that didn’t work, he became a day laborer until he decided he’d rather sit down at the local bar all day and drink with his other unemployed buddies. Want to know why I can cook? Because I was the man of the house while my mom tried to work as many shifts as she could to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. I took care of Kori, made sure she got into college, got her the school loans because I learned that all by myself first. But the man who caused us all to be in that position gets to sit up there” —he points up in the air— “and has no fucking clue that he was the world’s worst father. He’s stuck in a time and place where he had a great job and our family was happy. How does the man who caused my nightmare of a childhood get to live with no memories, no regret while the rest of us still suffer the consequences?”
“I wish I could answer that.” I wrap my arms around his middle and hug him tightly.
He doesn’t hug me back, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I think my mom prefers him not remembering because she loves him so much and knows it would cause him pain, but he didn’t give a shit about us. What kind of man lets his wife work until she can’t stand anymore? What kind of man deserts his family to spend it down at the bar and then comes home drunk and vengeful? Why does that man deserve to still have his family visit him every Sunday with smiles and hugs?”
I feel sick hearing everything he and his family have been through. My stomach churns and my chest feels like it’s caving in on itself.
“Life is unfair. But you can’t change any of this, Ethan. You can’t give your dad his memory back. And you punishing him for things he doesn’t remember ever doing is only going to affect you. You choose your life. You choose the way you want to live and this resentment that you hold for him isn’t healthy.”
He blows out a breath. “You think I don’t know that. I do, but I can’t stop. I hated him for so many years and now I’m supposed to just forget it and feel bad for him when he never felt bad for any of us.”
I take his hand and lead him over to the bench. “You’re never going to forget, but you need to heal, and all this anger isn’t going to allow you to do that. Have you thought about group support or therapy?”
He shakes his head.
“That might be where to start, but you can’t fix your dad. You have no control to change anything except yourself and how you react to the circumstances.”
“Ethan.” A woman opens the door and her shoulder’s sag in relief.
“Mom?” He stands and she steps into the courtyard, her eyes only on me. “I told you I’d handle it.”
“I know, but you shouldn’t have your day all messed up. I was able to leave a little early and thought I’d take over.”
Ethan hugs his mom and kisses her cheek. “Mom, this is Blanca.” He gestures in my direction.
She puts out her hand and I stand to shake it. “Nice to meet you.”
She smiles at Ethan and he shakes his head but a slow smile forms on his lips.
“I’ve got to get up there. You two go. I’ll call you later.” She kisses his cheek. “Very nice to meet you. Come by someday.”
“I’d love to,” I say.
She pats her son’s cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you.”
They share a moment I feel awkward witnessing, then his mom walks out of the courtyard.
“Come on. Let’s get home.”
“Don’t you want to say goodbye?” I ask.
He opens up the courtyard door. “No. I don’t.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ethan
Our hour and a half train ride leaves too much time to think. Especially when the woman I want to be with is sitting next to me—so close and yet so far away. Her small hand is tucked into mine, but I’m not naïve enough to assume it will remain there as we step off the train.
“You’re right,” I mumble.
She faces me. “I’m what?”
The first real smile I’ve had in the last few hours creases my lips. “You’re right. I’m punishing him. I mean, I go every Sunday more for my mom than him. But I’m distant and half the time only engage with Kori. I keep everything festering inside me.”
“I think a support group would help. There’s a reason they exist. I’m sure no one knows how to deal with a family member losing their memory without some help.”
I still have a hard time seeing the pity in her eyes.
“I tell no one. Talking to strangers…” A shiver runs through my body at the thought and I cringe.
I cannot even imagine. Plus, they all probably love their family members and there’s a large amount of hatred for my dad that resides inside me.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Why?”
“We’re friends. Nothing changes that.”
“Not even Sierra?”
She removes her hand from mine, crosses her legs and shifts her body so that she’s faced a little away from me. “Stop it.”