I use the scissors to take off the longest portions of the beard, then shave him slowly and methodically, soaping his facial hair to ease the glide of the razor as I take off the rest, stopping often to clean the razor. I tilt his face and pinch his nose closed, and he never once complains. He just holds his breath and then lets it out when I release. When I get near his ear, he laughs out loud.
“I forgot that you’re ticklish right there,” I say. He flicks his ear like he’s flicking my touch away, which makes me laugh.
When I’m done, I stare at him. He sits there, still staring up at the ceiling, his face quiet and serene. He’s so handsome. Gone is the boyish charm, and it has been replaced by a manly grin. He still has those deep dimples, his right one a little deeper than his left. He has always been quick-witted, but he’s also a good-looking man, one that makes my heart do that quick th-thunk that makes me suddenly feel uncomfortable.
His eyes narrow as he watches me. “What just happened?” he asks softly.
“It was nothing,” I say quietly. I should try to play it off, but I can’t. “I was just thinking you clean up real good.” Then I tweak his nose and he laughs. He sits up and slaps his knees.
“How’d I turn out?”
“Very handsome,” I say quietly. I take in a breath and hold it.
He gets up and goes to the bathroom to look in the mirror. He whistles dramatically. “Damn! You made me pretty,” he says as he strokes the pale skin of his face, which probably hasn’t seen the sun in years.
“You’ve always been pretty,” I say as I stand in the doorway and watch him admire himself, my shoulder hitched against the doorjamb.
He reaches for his back pocket. “How much do I owe you?”
I push his hand away. “Don’t be silly. You don’t owe me anything. I had fun doing it.” He stares at me through the mirror until I get uncomfortable again. “What?” My eyes meet his in the glass.
“Where’s your husband, Abigail?” he asks, his voice soft like he’s afraid I’ll bolt. I once saw him talk to an injured dog in a similar tone.
I suck in a breath. “He is in my house with the woman he cheated on me with who is also having his baby.” I let the rest of the breath go. “I figured I’d come here for a couple of weeks to lick my wounds.” I gesture around me. “So here I am.”
“Your husband’s an idiot,” he says quietly, still looking at me through the mirror’s reflection.
I give him a quick nod. Just one. “We agree on that.”
He turns from the mirror to face me. “I have a son,” he suddenly blurts out. Then he winces when he realizes what he just said.
“You have a son?” I can’t imagine Ethan with a son, because then I’d have to imagine Ethan with another woman and that is unimaginable. In fact, that thought hurts. “You’re married?”
“Not anymore. She died.” His voice is quiet and reverent.
I haven’t seen him with anyone. “Where is your son?”
He gives me a smile that’s not really a smile. “He’s with my mom. He lives with her.”
I feel my brow furrow and I try to wipe it away. “Why’s he with your mom?”
He heaves in a breath and lets it out long and slow. He does that thing again where he closes one eye and looks at me with the other. “Would it be okay if I don’t tell you just yet?” He waits a beat. “I’d kind of like for you to go on liking me a little while longer.” He brushes his hand through his now-short hair. “It’s been a long time since anyone has liked me.”
“What happened to you, Ethan?” I ask more to myself than to him. I lay my hand on my chest because my heart hurts for him. The pain on his face is nearly unbearable, and it’s not even mine.
He bends and kisses me on the cheek, lingering just a beat too long. “Thank you for the haircut,” he says near my ear.
“You’re very welcome.”
He passes by me and walks to the front door. His little duck follows him outside, close at his heels.
I follow but only to the end of the porch.
At the edge of my postage stamp-sized yard, he turns back and calls out, “I didn’t really want a duck, mainly because I was afraid I’d fuck it up.” He stares down at the little duck, which has gone completely still, just waiting to see what Ethan will do next, where he’s going to go. “Then I found his little egg, and it hatched, and I’m still scared I’m going to mess him up. That’s what I do. I break the things I touch,” he says simply. “That’s who I am.”
“Ethan—” I start toward him, but he holds up a hand to ward me off.
“I don’t want to break you. I don’t want to break us.” His voice gets rough all of a sudden, and he coughs to clear his throat. “I have some pretty good childhood memories of times I spent with you, and I don’t want to do anything that will make you think less of me.” His voice gets quiet. “Because I’m good at that.”
“I’m not worried,” I rush to assure him.
Then he turns and leaves me standing there on the porch, and I watch him as he slowly walks back toward the campground, his little duck at his heels, and I can’t help but wonder what the hell just happened.
8
Ethan
I haven’t seen Abigail since the night she gave me the haircut, which was just over a week ago. I take that back. I’ve seen her. I’ve just avoided her. If I see her heading in my direction, I go the other way. She doesn’t need my brand of trouble. That’s one thing I’m sure about. She’s much better off staying far away from me.
I’m startled as Katie, Jake’s wife, walks up behind me. I was on the roof of one of the cabins, adding some shingles that were blown off during the last storm, and I just came down. In part, I came down because my duck was raising such a fuss while I was up on the roof. He’s been running circles for the past half hour around and around the house, looking for me. He knows I went up, he just doesn’t know how to join me and it’s driving him crazy, if the squawking is any indication.
“That’s adorable,” Katie says as she walks up and holds out a fresh bottle of water for me.
“He’s pretty damn cute,” I admit. I thought he was going to go nuts down on the ground all by himself. Now he’s nestled against my shin, resting on my ankle.
Katie’s daughter Trixie has a great big dog, and since Trixie is at school right now, the dog is hanging out with Katie. The thing is massive, with a wide head and a big ass, and a tongue that looks like it’s as wide as a skateboard. “Trixie let you keep her dog for the day?” I ask. I’ve met the kids around the campground, and Jake talks about them every time he comes to give me a new task.
“Oh, she’d take him to school, if she was able.” She laughs, and she reaches over to lay her hand on the dog’s head. “They’re inseparable,” she goes on to say. “This dog got Trixie through some really tough times, back when we first came back here.”
I remember Katie from when we were all kids, but she and Jake are a few years older than me and Abigail, so we didn’t exactly run in the same circles.