I cut her allowance, another disappointment.
My lawyer explained to her that from this point forward, that’s all the money she’ll receive. He registers her for a budget class. Any financial issues have to be discussed directly with him.
If she wants to talk to me about the weather, my health, or my life, she’s more than welcome to contact me.
Since then, when I call her, she sends me to voice mail. I leave the usual message.
“This is Ethan. I’m just checking on you.”
Zeke and I spend Thanksgiving with the Hades family, Christmas with the Spearmans, and New Year’s Eve with the Deckers.
It’s funny how we switch our relationship and routine every time we have some kind of life-altering situation. Since I came back from Texas, we’ve been going to the gym daily. Some Wednesdays, we go to yoga. While he’s the most advanced person in the class, I’m the slowest learner. On Sundays, I practice yoga on his roof, even when it’s too fucking cold to be outside.
In March, he asks me to go to Luna Harbor with him. He picks up some plants from the nursery. We visit Nydia’s shop to buy lavender products. I stop by the brewery to pick up a case of beer for Alex and Hannah.
We spend three weekends in a row fixing the plants on the rooftop. We haven’t spoken about our feelings in more than six months. I’m not sure if I should be proud of myself or chastise myself for not pursuing what I want in life.
The jury continues deliberating.
It’s like we’re in a limbo called the pathetic friend zone—emphasis on pathetic.
We enjoy each other’s company. Not a day goes by when we don’t see each other, email, or text. If I’m out of town, we FaceTime. Still, we don’t acknowledge what we both want: each other.
Our lives don’t change much until May when, at five in the morning, I receive a call. I want to ignore it, but there’s always the fear that something might’ve happened to Zeke or Tucker.
I extend my arm, grabbing the phone from the nightstand. The screen reads B. Security. That’s the security in the Bainbridge Island studio. It’s too early to deal with anyone. If some stupid band wants to go in so early, I’m going to blacklist them. Before I slide my finger across the screen, I decide not to answer. They can throw them in jail. It’s Saturday, and I’m not dealing with anyone until nine when I meet with Zeke.
I cover my eyes with my arm and try to go back to sleep. Only a few minutes later, it happens again. This time it’s Hannah’s ringtone.
“This better be important,” I answer.
“Rocco is in the studio.” I jump out of the bed as if someone had dumped a block of ice on top of me.
What the fuck? It’s too early to deal with nonsense, isn’t it?
“April Fool’s Day was a month ago,” I say, pacing around my room.
Cold sweat trickles down my back. I’m not afraid of him but of what his presence can do to Zeke.
“This isn’t a joke. Also, why did you ignore the call from the security team?” Her annoyed voice pulls out a smirk. I know we’re not teenagers anymore, but it’s still fun to tease her.
“Because it’d be nice to see you wake up at five in the freaking morning?” I answer.
“Can we go back to sleep?” Alex complains on the other side of the line.
“I’m sensing some disturbance at home. Did the call wake up The Speedman?”
She groans. “Listen, Rocco is in town.”
“Why do I care?”
“Because he’s one of us,” she reminds me.
It’d be a great moment to ask, “And whose fault is that?” I always said he was a bad idea. We already had three problem children—Tucker, Zeke, and me. Why add him to the mix? I could bring a few significant points to explain why I don’t give a fuck about his presence.
Nothing will beat her explanation.
Rocco is family. He belongs to us.
I resign myself to deal with this new development. I’ll just make sure to keep an eye on Zeke. “What does he want?”
“He wants to talk to us.”
“I’m sure us doesn’t include me. We were never friendly,” I say, trying to skip the first meeting with the guy.
“Ethan.” That voice. She’s so disappointed in me. I let her down.
I swear this woman will be one of those mothers who’ll just give a look of disappointment to her kids, and the poor children will obey out of guilt. They’ll have Uncle Ethan to spoil them and make sure they don’t grow up with a big complex.
“Hannah,” I mock her tone.
“Don’t start on me. I’m serious.”
“It’s fucking five in the morning. I want to sleep, and you’re talking about him, who we should ignore.”
“He is our friend—our family.”
I laugh. It’s not a funny ha-ha. It’s more like a you-are-delusional kind of laugh. “Not today. Today he’s a fucker who is ruining my weekend. Goodnight, Nana.”
A few minutes later, Zeke calls.
“Yeah?” I groan.
“Did Hannah call you?”
“Yes, and the answer is still I don’t want to deal with him today.”
“I told her something along the same line,” he chuckles.
“What did you say?”
“Who the fuck cares?” he answers. “I hung up, and she called again. On the second call, I said, ‘I don’t give a fuck.’ She’s now calling Tucker. I can see her driving to my place to drag me with her. Can we disappear?” The pleading tone gets my body into motion. I will do anything for this guy.
“Why don’t you come to my house? I’ll ask the doorman not to let her in and to say I left town.” I’m tempted to say, “Get dressed, and let’s go to Luna Harbor.”
“Why is he back?” Zeke asks.
“Do we care?” I repeat, heading to my kitchen where I set up the coffee maker.
“He wants money.” The frustration in his voice upsets me. “It’s not like I can’t deal with his problems. I just don’t want to do it anymore. If he offers me a joint, I won’t accept it. I know what triggers my cravings, and it’s not a guy offering me meth, weed, blow, or…you get what I mean. It’s feeling helpless, lonely, or angry. I have other ways to deal with those emotions.”
“Listen, I can have him kicked out of the studio right now. What do you need?”
“I don’t want to deal with him, but I don’t want to leave Hannah dealing with this shitshow alone,” he responds.
“Damn. I didn’t think about her. She has Alex though,” I remind him.
“She does, but he doesn’t know how to handle Rocco. Can you smell the chaos?”
“I’ve been hanging with you way too much. I can feel it in my bones,” I agree. “Why don’t we wait and see what she wants to do?”
“I need to meditate. Maybe hit the gym,” he says.
“I’ll meet you in ten minutes,” I suggest.
“Give me an hour. I have to meditate,” he repeats, annoyed. Sure, he says he’s fine, but I can also feel his stress deep down in my soul.
“Babe, are you going to be okay?”
There’s a long silence before he says, “I’m fine. I just want to beat the shit out of him for showing up after so long. Hannah hasn’t set a date for her wedding because of him. She wants us all in there.”