30. Ethan
thirty
The next day at noon sharp, I roll into the high school. Noah greets me at the door and lets me in. Just like when I went to the Arena, the familiarity and good memories make me smile like silly.
“They’re super excited to see you,” Noah says.
“I am too. It’s so cool you’re their advisor.”
“I mean—super excited,” he emphasizes. “Not all of them could make it, though,” he says, pushing a door open to let me in, “but these are the die-hards.”
Two boys and two girls, who look as if they range from ages thirteen to eighteen, are standing at a table, in a semi-circle facing the door. On the table there’s chips, soda, pizza, paper plates and cups, and colorful paper napkins.
“Welcome to our club,” a third boy who’s not standing says. He maneuvers his wheelchair to swiftly come greet me, extending a strong hand. “Honored to meet you. I’m Zach.”
I shake his hand. “Zach. Wow. I didn’t expect lunch. This is… thanks so much. You didn’t have to do this,” I say as I’m introduced to each one of them.
“It’s the least we could do,” the youngest one says, a boy who looks barely thirteen. He stiffly grabs a paper cup. “What would you like to drink?”
“Why don’t we just sit down,” Noah says. We pull up some chairs, start eating, and the ice breaks. These kids impress me with their questions. They don’t need me to tell them the difference between cryptography and cryptanalysis. No, they jump right in with questions about cryptographic nonce, elliptic curve cryptography, and P vs NP. One of the girls asks me pointed questions about blockchain technology. The other one wants to know what she should study to work for the NSA. The third boy, the quietest, engages me on the software I use. “What do you think kids our age should look into? Like, since we’re the future,” he asks.
Good question. “The future is probably in post-quantum cryptography. Uh… one of the challenges we’re going to face is that quantum algorithms—like Shor’s algorithm—could theoretically break current cryptographic systems. So it wouldn’t hurt if sharp minds like yours got a head start on that.”
They exchange looks that go from excited to downright worried. “Meanwhile, for fun, look at ethical hacking and CTF competitions.” They all nod like this is already what they’re doing.
Which they probably are.
“Are all the jobs in big cities or like… underground in Texas?” Zach, the oldest of the group, asks me.
“They’re everywhere, but—and you know this—nowadays, with a skillset like that, you can work from anywhere. Remote. Maybe not right away when you get started, but down the line? For sure. So, something to think about.”
We talk about different careers, gaming, and growing up in Emerald Creek. I end up staying way longer than I planned, and yet I don’t want to leave.
“Thanks so much, man,” Noah says when he walks me out. “You can’t imagine how much it means to them.”
“They’re great kids. And thanks for lunch,” I add, slapping his shoulder.
“That was all the kids. Their idea, their execution.”
“Awesome.” I look at him for a beat, envious of his life. I almost tell him as much, but I don’t. After all, this could have been my life, if I’d wanted to.
After that, I go to the farm alone.
“No Grace?” Mom asks me as she pecks my cheek tenderly.
I shrug. “We want to take it slow.”
“Well that’s a refreshing change,” Dad says as he walks in.
“Is that what you kids call taking it slow these days?” My younger brother Hunter is holding up a pair of black briefs and a very familiar red bikini.
“What the hell?” I pretend to look shocked, confused, angered.
“You’re welcome,” he says, wrapping the bikini bottom around my head while I try to swat him away. He holds my briefs at a distance, between two fingers, looking disgusted. “Mom, you need to teach him how to clean his underwear.”
“Shut up, you moron,” I say as I grab the briefs from him.
“Ah, the river took care of it,” Haley says as she joins the fun. “Clean enough for a military guy.”
Meanwhile, Logan is walking around, back arched, top of the bikini wrapped around his jutted pecs, lips pursed as he says, “I’m so sexy, look at me Ethan.”
Now I’m pissed. Pissed. I could break his nose. Make him, literally, swallow his words. But that’d be messy. Instead, I walk casually up to him, and in no time I have him in a choke hold and joint lock.
I know the feeling. I’ve been there. It’s so painful you can’t make a single sound. That’s the beauty of it. The choke hold makes you almost pass out but not quite.
“I’m going to let you go now, and you will never, ever, make fun of Grace again in any way. Blink once if you got me.”
He blinks.
“I didn’t hear that.”
He blinks furiously.
“That was several times. There is no meaning for several times. Be clearer. One for ‘you got me,’ two for ‘you don’t care that much about your life’.”
“What’s that called?” Dad asks, totally undeterred by his older son exercising interrogation techniques on his younger son.
“Is he okay?” Mom asks. “I think he got it, hon. He blinked.”
I whip my face to her, ignoring Logan. “He did? I didn’t catch it.”
“Fuck, that’s wicked,” Hunter says while Haley picks up the bikini top and carefully folds it. They’re all crowding us.
I think I made my point.
I let Logan go. He takes a few seconds to recoup, get his breath back, get motion in his arms. Then the little fucker turns to me and says, “That was wild, man. You gotta teach me that.”
Fuck but I missed that. Missed messing with my brothers. Missed having them mess with me. Yeah, I had a family in the service. But nothing like that. Nothing like blood family, at least this one.
“Yeah, show us,” Hunter echoes.
“You sure? I can’t show you until you experience it. You have to go through it first to know what you’re doing. And even then. You gotta be careful.”
“Show us,” he insists.
“Jesus,” Haley sighs and rolls her eyes.
“Lunch is almost ready,” Mom says, trying to deflect her boys from dangerous activities.
“After lunch then?”
I chuckle. “You do not want to do that after eating. Trust me.”
“Real quick, now.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Take it outside, then.”
“I’m coming too,” Haley says. “You never know, these days.”
“You comin’?” I ask Justin.
He peels himself from Chloe. “What the heck, why not.”
Chloe follows him.
After I show them a few moves, and after we eat way too much, and after we lounge outside in the shade, and after we shake the slumber off by walking through the pastures, and after my siblings are all gone, I sit alone with Mom and Dad on the deck. After meaningless chit chat, I say out of the blue, “I can’t believe I messed up Mom’s birth date. How could that happen, I thought for sure it was July 19.”
Dad sets a hand on my thigh. “That was your Grandma’s birthday. She passed the day right before.”
Grandma? I haven’t thought about Grandma in… forever. Literally. My heartbeat pumps up, emotion overcoming me. Tears prickle at my eyes.
“You okay, son?” Dad says.
Mom leans to me. “Oh, honey.”
I take a deep breath. Look at my parents, asking for… for what exactly? What the hell is happening to me, in this moment? So many emotions flooding me. A memory I’ve suppressed pretty much all my life.
“She was… your mom, right?” I ask Dad.
Mom sighs. “Yes. She… your dad and I, we eloped. You know that—right? Our families weren’t… happy that we were together and they… wouldn’t talk to us. Neither side. Anyhoo, a few years after you were born, my parents died in a plane crash, and I inherited the… proverbial farm. We came to work it. Your dad’s parents came around and we reconnected. Your Grandma would come during growing season to help with you and Justin.”
I remember. She’d wear a flowery dress. We’d make apple pies. Finger paint outside. She taught me how to read. As the memories flood back, even her sweet violet scent comes back to me.
“One day, the day before her birthday, we came back and she… she was gone.”
“Gone?”
Dad nods. “She’d died in her sleep. During her nap.”
“You were so good,” Mom says, patting my lap. “You don’t remember?”
I frown. No, I don’t.
“You thought she was cold, so you’d covered her with your blankie. You even changed Justin.”
“You were quite the little man,” Dad says.
And then it comes back to me, like a gigantic slap in the face.
Justin crying from his crib.
Grandma so cold.
And me. Me. Such an idiot. I knew what you were supposed to do when an accident happened. You called 9-1-1. I knew how to use the phone. I’d even been through it in my head. If Grandma falls and can’t get up, I dial 9-1-1 from any phone. I stay calm and tell them my address and what happened. Same if there’s a fire. 9-1-1. Stay calm. Tell them where I am.
But Grandma was sleeping. And I knew you weren’t supposed to wake up adults. Adults need their nap time. Just like babies like Justin.
I remember the smell of baby poop lingering on my fingers, and it remains linked to the shock of understanding I hadn’t done what I was supposed to do for Grandma.
It was simple, wasn’t it? All I needed to do was call 9-1-1, and they would have taken care of Grandma.
But I didn’t.
I failed them.
I remember the shame I felt when they took Grandma away. My toes curling in my shoes. My head slumping between my shoulders. Tears welling in my eyes, that I didn’t feel I had the right to shed.
I’d failed my family. I hadn’t been good enough for them. I’d failed to protect them.
I was the oldest. There were things that were expected of me. And I didn’t meet these expectations.
The years that followed, I’d strive to be the best at everything. I had natural abilities that made certain things easy. But when it came to my family, it seemed that whatever I did, I failed.
Like the time when Justin jumped off the roof into the pool and broke his leg. I’d saved Grace, but my brother? I didn’t.
“Best way to go,” Dad says. “In your sleep.”
“Nightcap?” Mom asks.
It’s late. But we’ve been mindlessly chatting, looking at family albums, and it doesn’t feel right to ride back to Grace’s house to just crash there, even if it’s where I want to be. She hasn’t called or texted all day, and I wonder if she’s giving me space or if she needs space herself. “Nightcap sounds perfect. Let me just check on Grace real quick.” I walk out toward the barn to talk to her in private. Her sleepy voice stirs all kinds of feelings inside me—lust, longing, and more lust. We don’t talk long. She sounds tired, and just the rasp of her night voice makes me want to be in bed with her. But that wouldn’t be fair to her. She has an early start tomorrow. She needs her sleep.
And I hear the clink of the small glasses Mom pulled out of her cupboard, and Dad’s shuffle as he comes back on the porch with two bottles of who knows what.
We hang up, and I feel a little lonely, yet surrounded at the same time. Surrounded by my family, with the ties we’re learning to weave again. And by Grace, and how we’re finding our way toward each other again.
Loving Grace is the simplest and most complicated thing I’ve done in my life.
Simple, because it just is. I love her. Always have, always will.
Complicated, because she’s fragile and complex. She’s not telling me everything—in fact, I feel there’s a lot she hasn’t told me yet. And how can I love her completely if I don’t know inside out what happened to her, how she navigated the past ten years of her life, moving from being a teenager to an adult? And how she’s navigating her present life? She seems to have this boring life, alone with her cat, but she doesn’t. She takes care of her dad, and her cousin’s daughter, and her employees, and her needy clients. She spends time with her mom and checks in on her brother.
“How is Grace doing?” Mom asks as I sit down.
“Good. Tired.”
“Mad River?” Dad asks, referring to one of Vermont’s bourbons.
“Sure.”
“Limoncello please,” Mom says. “The poor thing must be driving herself sick with the spa.”
Mom is always so dramatic. “Yeah, she’s a little worried.”
“Did she find a new space yet?”
“I think that’s a little premature. He might end up selling to another investor.”
Mom sets down her glass. “Oh no. I hear it’s that young woman, a friend of yours, who’s buying to live there.”
“A friend of mine?”
Dad clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably on his seat. “Yeah—what was her name? Never cared much for her. Annie?”
“Wasn’t Annie,” Mom says. “What was her name? Oh, she wasn’t that bad. Lessee… Prescott’s niece. From Fish and Game?” She turns to Dad like that’s going to help. “Amy! That’s it. Amy Keller. She’s moving back to Emerald Creek. Her mom must be happy.”
What the fuck? Grace never said anything about Amy buying the spa. A nervous tick takes control of my cheek. “Grace never said anything.”
Mom waves a hand like it’s nothing. “And maybe I misunderstood.”
“It’s probably a rumor,” Dad interjects. “Or she just made an offer, and she’s getting ahead of herself.”
Fucking Amy is buying the spa? Over my dead body.
“Grace just doesn’t want to worry you, honey,” Mom says like that’s going to soothe me. My inner caveman is thumping his chest, shouting Why isn’t she coming to me for help? Ethan Protect Grace. Ethan Fix Grace Problems. Mom sets her hand on my thigh. “She probably didn’t want to bore you with work, honey. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
Ibored her with my work yesterday. Didn’t seem to bother her. “Yep.” And now that fucking tick in my jaw just won’t let go.
We clink our glasses and take small sips in silence for a while, letting the darkness settle around us like a blanket. Dad takes a couple deep sighs.
“Well, next time we have a family reunion like this, Grace has to be here. I’ll call her myself.”
“Thanks, Ma,” I say, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.
“It’s so good to have you back, honey,” Mom says, teary-eyed. “And I know you have to leave again, but hopefully, now with Grace, you’ll come back more often.”
Dad grunts.
“I know life isn’t exactly exciting around here but… oh well—I’ll say it. I was a little hurt you never came back. Sometimes wondered if we said or did something to keep you away, all these years.”
My heart bottoms. ‘”You need to talk to your mom. There’s no way she said it the way you took it.” And there it is. Grace was right.
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable about what I’m about to say. The last thing I want is to hurt my mother. “I kinda felt, at the time, that…” How can I put this? “that it’d be better for Justin and-and-and the rest of the family if I stayed away for a while.”
Mom sets her glass on the small table to give me her full attention while Dad grunts, “And why is that?”
I rub my hands together, lean my elbows on my knees. “I felt, at the time, that I could have prevented Justin’s accident.” I raise a pacifying hand toward Mom who’s already starting to voice her disagreement. “That’s how I felt, Mom. Audrey and I had had an argument, and I felt that argument had a bearing on the rest of the evening. I actually know for a fact it did.” I have their attention now. “And uh… in the hours that followed, I wanted to cancel or at least postpone indefinitely joining the Air Force. The fact that I felt responsible for the accident made me argue this with you more forcefully than if I’d had no impact at all on that evening. But you wouldn’t let me.”
Mom jumps in. “Of course not! I had one son whose life had been derailed, I didn’t want another one to give up on his dreams!”
I smile at her. “I… that’s not how I understood it at the time. You said something like I owed it to Justin to go live my life, and I thought… I just thought… anyway. That was stupid—”
Dad just grunts again while Mom pales. “Oh, honey, what I meant was…” She turns to Dad. “How can I put this?”
Dad takes Mom’s hand in his. “Just like you said before, Lynnie. You didn’t want both your sons having their lives on hold.”
Mom’s teary eyes land on me. “I never ever meant you had any kind of debt to your brother. What I meant was, go and enjoy life while you can. Because you never know what might happen. That’s what I meant by owe it to him. As in, live and have fun for the two of you.”
“I see that now, Mom. It’s just… these were messy times for me. I didn’t know how to talk and open up.”
“You had it too hard, as the first born,” Dad states. “I sometimes regret it, and other times, I think this tough upbringing is what made you who you are now. You’re reliable. You put others first. That’s one reason you’re such a good asset to the Air Force—in addition to everything else. I can’t say that I entirely regret putting so much on your shoulders, ’cause most of it, we didn’t have a choice. Your mom was eighteen when you were born, and both our families had thrown us out. But I can tell you now—it’s time to let go and give yourself some grace.”
Mom breathes shakily. “Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way.” She smiles. “Also, honey,” she says to Dad, “good one.”
“What’d I say now?” Dad asks gruffly.
“Give yourself some Grace.”
Dad chuckles. “You’re the worst, woman.”
Mom takes the last sip of her drink and sets it on the small tray holding the liquor. “Welp,” she says, standing, “I’m gonna get myself to bed.” She leans over me and kisses my forehead. “Sleep well, honey.” Then she waves at Dad and wiggles her eyebrows at him. “You know where to find me!” she sing-songs.
I shake my head but can’t stifle the silent laughter shaking my shoulders.
“I’m spending time with my son, woman,” Dad pretends to growl, a wide smile contradicting his tone.
I can’t bring myself to tell my Dad to go warm up Mom’s bed instead of spending time with me. It’s just plain icky. But honestly? I wish I could have that, someday.
After Mom leaves, I go to the kitchen to get a glass of water and then head to the bathroom. When I come back out from the light, I can hardly see, but an unmistakable smell is in the air.
I squint at Dad. “I didn’t know you smoked.” Moonlight contours the white wicker of the chairs and the coffee table, the railing around the porch, Dad’s cigar a glowing ember that brightens as he pulls on it. My eyes slowly adjust to the night, until I can make out his facial expression. Contentedness.
“I don’t.” He eyes me sideways and a silent laughter shakes his whole body. “Siddown.”
I sit at an angle from him, and we stay silent for a while. Then he says, “Your mother doesn’t like it.” Another long silence. “We do a lot of things for the women we love… We think we do it for them. But if you think hard enough about it… they have us do it for our own good.” He takes a long puff of his cigar, then butts the end off. “Least, that’s how I see it.”
It’s good to be with Dad, just like this. Just staring into the quiet countryside. “Here,” he says, pouring from the bottle of Mad River’s Revolution Rye he kept on the floor next to him. “Have another.”
I swirl the amber liquid in the glass and take a swig. It warms my insides and calms my nerves. I sit back in the chair.
“Tell me about… that thing you’ll be going to. This week. What’s that all about?”
I told Mom and Dad about being gone for a few days, after my phone chimed several times. Using our encryption app, my C.O. was filling me in on what to expect. It will be a high-level strategy meeting about our cryptanalysis program for NATO. What we can and cannot share with our allies. How we should proceed moving forward. I’m tasked with analyzing the ever-evolving technology and presenting to the brass in Brussels next month. “Some bullshit.”
“Uh-huh. Makes sense. They call a Major on leave over the weekend for bullshit.” I don’t know where Dad stands with regard to our country’s military, our foreign policy, or even politics in general. Frankly, I don’t care. But I do love serving. Do we make mistakes? Of course we do. But only people who do nothing don’t make mistakes. And doing nothing in this world is not an option.
“So… what did they really call you for? Come on, you can tell your old man. Gimme a least a little something.”
I take another sip of the whiskey. “That why you’re trying to get me drunk?”
He guffaws. “I wouldn’t even try to make you say something you shouldn’t.”
I rub my face. “Some analysis they need.”
He grunts. That’s all he’s going to get from me. “What does that mean for you?”
It means pretty fucking great things. “I dunno yet.”
“Might wanna think through it before push comes to shove.”
I run my hand over my stubble. “Yeah.”
“Would that put you in more danger?”
Danger in this day and age is relative. There’s cut and dried frontline danger. And then there’s the shit that happens even here, on US territory, where we’re supposed to be safe. The real hold up for me is different. “It’d mean living in Europe.”
“Which you already are.”
“I was. I left Germany. I was hoping for stateside this time.”
“Right.”
I’m thinking about Grace, lying in bed right now, her fucking key probably back under the stupid rock, and I feel the urge to be by her side and protect her.
“Wouldn’t you do better work in Europe? Be more of service to your country?”
Probably. “It’s more about… the accomplishment.” The NATO job would be a huge promotion, especially at my age. There’s a reason I’m being considered for it. I’m good at what I do. Really good. “Other guys can do it.” And it’s true. There are other people as qualified as I am—thank god for that. But they’re older, they have families, demands. It’s more of a headache to move them around. More expensive. Me? I’m as flexible as they come.
Dad reaches for his glass and finishes it. “’Course they can. The real question is, where are your priorities now? What do you want from life?”
A dull pain churns in my stomach. Nights like this remind me of my time in the tree house, with Grace. Life ahead of us. I thought I had it all figured out. We’d be a family someday—soon. I’d be able to provide for everyone.
“Did uh… Did Grace ever tell you why she came back to Emerald Creek?”
I’m surprised that Dad’s thoughts are on Grace as well, although I suppose I shouldn’t be. He has to know where my hesitation comes from. “She got divorced,” I say, as it’s the most obvious thing. Isn’t that why? Why is he asking me? “Right?”
“You’re asking me?”
“No. You’re asking.”
“Just… just making sure… You know what?” He waves in front of him as if to erase his words. “Forget I even asked.”
“What the fuck, Dad? You do know we’re adults, right.”
“This has nothin’ to do with what Dennis… said. Back in the day.”
Right. So what does it have to do with? “If there’s something I should know, you better tell me.”
“Absolutely not. Anything you need to know, you should find out on your own. Innit your job anyway?”
Seriously? “Holy fucking… just hand me the bottle.”