I rise from the seat I’ve been planted in too long. The blood rushes into my left foot, and it tingles. I wobble, but make it to the restroom without an embarrassing scene.
Instead of walking toward a stall, I go to the mirror. Ethan has seen me thousands of times—at my absolute best and complete worst. Still, I fuss with my hair and check my makeup. Brown hair still brown, lower lip still bigger than upper lip, one ear still a millimeter higher than the other. Makeup in place. I look down at my red shirt, happy I remembered clothes to change into. I didn’t want to greet Ethan in my sensible blouse and gray slacks. It’s possible I chose this color for a reason…
After all our years together, physical appearance falls low on the yardstick by which we measure one another. We’d made mud pies together, scraped our knees on the harsh asphalt of the street we grew up on, and spent days cooped up together while we battled chicken pox. Our pain, happiness, heartbreaks, and successes are wrapped up within each other, intertwined in a way only time can accomplish.
My fingers curl around the edge of the sink, knuckles growing whiter. If I let these feelings take control, things might not end well.
Our friendship is strong, but feelings like this make us fragile.
The strength of our relationship has been the one thing I could always count on. While I was busy achieving, accomplishing, mastering, Ethan was by my side. He’s the only person who didn’t need me to achieve, accomplish, or master in order to love me.
Something implicit exists between us, an unspoken declaration, and it states that nothing will ever divide us. I felt it the day I watched a moving truck pull up to the empty house across the street. A little boy bounded out and somersaulted his way across the front yard, and my five-year-old self knew. Twenty years together hasn’t changed it.
I look into the mirror and watch the emotions ripple over my face. Excitement, fear, apprehension. Fear dominates.
But there isn’t anything concrete to be scared of. I can’t reach out and take hold of what has my heart racing.
My fear is a shadow, pursuing me soundlessly. If you tell him you have feelings for him, you’ll lose. Would you really risk Ethan? He’s your biggest fan, your other half, your… soulmate. I shake my head. I can’t think like that.
“Get it together, Masters.” Saying my last name out loud makes me feel better. Like I’m in control. Kate will Master it… Master of Everything. I loved those nicknames at first, but now they’re a reminder of the impossibly high expectations people had for me. Or maybe I just had them for myself. With a last name like Masters, what else could I become but an over-achieving perfectionist? Of course, the last name didn’t rub off on my little brother. I picture him tucking his wild, shoulder length hair behind his ears, and shake my head. Running an organic beet farm… The opposite of everything my dad wanted for him. I’ve given Noah the grief my dad would have, if he were alive. Honestly, it’s probably time to let my little brother own his career choice, as exasperating as it is.
Running off to Noah's modest farm in Oregon doesn’t sound too bad right now. I’d love to escape my mind for a while.
Stop being unrealistic. I need to deal with these feelings. I need to be practical, pragmatic, level-headed, and logical.
Telling Ethan about my dream would be foolish. Telling him about how I can’t stop thinking of him would be irrational. What I need to do is forget about it.
Because I know how he would respond if I came clean.
My dependable, loyal, compassionate Ethan. He’s been in love with me for ten years. And he’s never been shy about telling me.
Once a year, on our shared birthday, he asks if I’ve changed my mind yet.
His caramel eyes radiate with hope after the question leaves his lips. And I always tell him no.
But now… My God, what am I doing?
I can’t.
Absolutely, unequivocally, without a doubt.
I need to do less dreaming and more forgetting.
The fear in my seizing stomach tells me I’m making the right choice. If I give in to my feelings and Ethan and I fail at a relationship, I’ll lose him forever.
I cannot tolerate a life without Ethan. So my mouth will stay shut.
His visit home will be like all the others. We’ll have order, structure, and solid plans. I like those things, I need those things. And Ethan understands that about me. He’s always been that for me. Nobody knows me like Ethan.
I just want us, the Kate and Ethan I’m used to. Ease embodies our time together, like an old, comfy sweatshirt, worn from time and use, but continuing to serve its purpose. We’re sweatshirts.
If I tell him…well, we won’t be sweatshirts anymore. We’ll be crisp and stiff, new clothes from a new store.
And I can’t have that. I need my best friend.
***
The bright lights of the airport blind me when I walk out of the women’s room. I blink a few times. It’s louder now. Lots of people, enthusiastic greetings. I stand on the periphery and scan the area.
There he is, walking down the long, wide hallway, away from the concourse. Ethan! My insides go topsy-turvy, my heart hammers like it wants to leap out of me and run to him. Calm down. He’s still the same person you’ve known since before you could ride a bike.
Ethan strides past security and slows, peering around and above the people who are in the midst of their own reunions.
His jet black hair shines in the light overhead. For a brief moment, I’m struck by how different he looks. It’s not the classic military hair cut or the tan fatigues he’s wearing that make him look so different. It’s his face, his shoulders, his chest, even his neck, that have changed. He looks so big, so strong.
Something even more alarming than Ethan’s changed appearance is snaking its way through me. The warmth spreads, starting in my heart and running out to the tips of my fingers and all the way down to my toes. My skin feels alive.
Desire. That’s what this feeling is. My brain tells my body to stop, but my body isn’t listening.
Ethan hasn't seen me yet. Petite girl problems. His warm brown eyes continue to scan the throng of people. I’m halfway to him when his eyes meet mine. His face lights up.
My feet accelerate. Deftly I dodge elbows and purses as I make my way toward him. I smile, but he just stares at me, transfixed, like my face isn’t the same face he’s known for most of his life. Finally, he smiles back, but his eyes continue to stare at me, absorbing me in a way that puts a blush on my cheeks.
Ethan finally comes to life, dropping the bag from his shoulder and taking a few steps forward.
I don’t even stop to think about what I’m doing. The talk I had with myself in the bathroom flies out the window. This is Ethan, my best friend, and I’ve missed him so much, it’s become a physical ache.
As soon as we’re close enough I launch myself at him. My legs wrap around his waist and he catches me, arms encircling my back, holding me up. I let my face fall into his neck, feeling comforted by what I find there. I inhale deeply, breathe him in, and his familiar scent tattoos my heart.
I’m in love with him.
I can lie to myself as much as I want when I’m alone. But right now, with my nose pressed to his skin, my heart knows my truth.
His hand falls down my back, rises, falls again. My shoulders shudder and bow. My insides twist and arc, a convolution of confused excitement.