Ethan looked at me.
I sigh with the thought and twist away from the wall, discovering a cup of tea on the nightstand near my bed and something else. I step toward the table, my heart racing with the thought Ethan has been in my room. He’s seen the mural. He’s noticed my things. But I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly as I see what sits next to the cold cup of tea.
A small bouquet of fall leaves rest with one on top of another—a spade shape in yellow; a red oak, curvy like a puzzle piece; and a large orange maple with a piece missing from its center.
A slip of paper sits among the leaves.
I’m here for you. E.
Tears return, but these are different. They’re not from anger or frustration, but genuine sadness. He’s sweet. He’s kind, and he’ll never want someone who is damaged like me, both inside and out.
Card 10: Red Velvet Cake
Secret ingredient: chocolate cake in disguise
[Ethan]
The following day, Jacob allows me to take my mom to chemotherapy. I don’t see Ella in the morning, and I don’t expect to. I hadn’t seen her for the remainder of the previous day, and Jacob didn’t question it when she didn’t come down to dinner.
I find the leaves I gave her shredded, and in the top of the garbage bin, a clear message to stay away from her. For some reason, I’m hurt again by her actions.
Despite sitting next to my mother, I’m deep in thought about the history of Jacob Vincentia, aka Jacob Vincent, horror novelist. I gave in to having a drink with him last night, and he told me how he came to Elk Lake City two years ago, hoping for a place to find respite and rejuvenate his writing.
“I have a place in New York,” Jacob mentioned. “But I needed a break. I asked Ella to join me after everything happened.” He didn’t hint at what happened to her. How she got that scar. Why she’s so afraid. I could have asked, but he’s already told me it’s Ella’s story to tell.
Still, my thoughts wonder at the questions I didn’t ask. I don’t know how I’ll last six weeks with her if she can’t stand me.
A cool hand touches the back of mine, and I flinch. My eyes meet Mum’s, and I instantly feel guilty. I reach forward for her cold fingers and curl mine around hers.
“You’re deep in thought today,” she says to me, her voice scratchy. We normally don’t speak. She reads a book or closes her eyes as the poison fills her, and I scroll social media on my phone or listen to music beside her.
“Yeah, I have a lot on my mind.”
Mum pauses, not pushing. She knows I’ll speak to her.
“Ever feel a little lost?” I whisper, looking down at her small hand in mine.
“All the time, love,” she offers. I chuckle to myself. I don’t believe it. My mother’s one of the most put-together people I know. I hate admitting to her how I’m thirty-three and still struggling. Working in kitchen after kitchen and then taking the job in Detroit, only to give it up when The Elk opportunity opened. I’ve made no headway in following my dream, yet now it’s staring me in the face. I could do this. In the same breath, it seems overwhelming. Where? How? When?
“What’s on your mind, love?” she asks. I don’t like keeping the truth from her, but I don’t want to worry her. Not able to tell her about the lost job or the new one, I switch topics.
“I met someone.”
My mother’s brows rise, and I instantly realize my mistake.
“Not like that,” I quickly clarify, and Mum’s lips twists. I’ve entered dangerous territory. All my mom wishes is for my brother and me to fall in love and make her more grandbabies. Not going to happen. Not from me, anyway. I can hardly take care of myself.
“She has this wicked scar.” I draw down my own face and along my jaw to my neck for emphasis. I shiver with the thought of what made that mark. Or who. How could someone be so cruel? “Anyway, she really…dislikes me. I just seem to bring out this anger in her.” Exhaling a sharp breath, I swipe my fingers into my hair. “I don’t know what to do because I don’t want her to hate me.” I can’t believe I’m saying these things, sounding like a teenager, but I don’t like how quickly Ella flips and gets upset with me. I wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday in the lake, and I tried. I thought the warm tea, and the cool leaves with a note would be an olive branch and bring her to me. Instead, she ignores me. I’m torn between saying I’m sorry and staying away from her.
“Sounds like she might need patience.”
I snort. “Patience?” I’m not a patient person. I rush into everything. Jobs. Women. Decisions. And if Mum’s advice is that Ella needs patience with me, well, she has none.
“Sometimes we don’t see what’s right before us, but when we stop and look with our hearts instead of our eyes, we learn so much more about a person. Things we can’t define with just our sight but recognize in here.” My mother has this dreamy look in her eyes as she taps her chest, and I wonder if the chemo plays tricks with her mind. It’s a ridiculous thought because she’ll go home and be sick for hours after this session.
“Patience from you might open her up to you. And you could use a little patience yourself, give yourself time to really see what’s before you.” Her thumb strokes the back of my hand. “You’re so like your father.”
My head snaps up, and I look at her, taken aback by the comment.
“Rash. Quick to judge. No pause before plundering. It might have been love at first sight for him when we met, but deep love takes time. It needs to be nurtured and sown before it grows and blooms.”
I take her hand and squeeze without a response. We aren’t talking about love, I internally scoff. We’re talking about a woman who hates me. My mother is wise, but right now, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Or maybe she does, but love isn’t on the menu for me. I’m more a flavor of the day guy, but something deep down wonders if I might like sweet peaches to be a permanent dessert option.
+ + +
I don’t need to return to Jacob’s, so I have dinner with Mum, who’s sick, and Dad, who’s silent. I feel like I should get used to the silent treatment. Ella’s good at it, and I’m frustrated by it, especially as I’m about to spend six weeks of my life living with her. We should at least be able to be in the same room together, or it’s going to be a long, lonely six weeks.
It’s Thursday night, and Town Tavern is calling me. The moment I enter, I instantly relax. This is what I need: the familiar. Tom Carter, my sister’s husband, is already here, along with his brother, Jess. Tom’s a funny guy, like the perpetual class clown, while his brother is more serious in nature. Both brothers are the same height and build, but Tom is dark haired with a short cut while Jess has straw-blond hair down to his chin. It’s a little shorter than it used to be. Once upon a time, Jess Carter and my brother, Gavin, were best friends.
After a drink or two, and a round of laughter, I decide I’m not going to think about my frustration with Ella but the money I’m making. Fuck her if we don’t get along. I’m building a nest egg to fulfill my dream, to open my own place, and be my own boss.