31. Ethan
31
ETHAN
I toss my phone from one hand to the other as I think about what to text Dad.
After I almost drop my phone for the fifth time, I shut my eyes, take a deep breath, and log into my phone plan account. With shaky fingers, I unblock Dad’s number and type out a short, emotionless message.
It’s Ethan. I heard you wanted to speak with me.
His reply is almost immediate.
Ethan. Thank you for getting in touch. I’ve been wanting to speak for a while
I don’t know if we can make things right, but if you want to meet up, I’m willing to talk.
I understand. When are you free?
Meet me tomorrow at the baseball diamond in Machiasport. 11 AM.
I put my phone down on the bedside table with a bit too much force. Taking a breath, I realize that my jaw is clenched, my teeth clashing together. I exhale, forcing myself to loosen my posture, before stomping off to take a long, hot, mindless shower. After I’m done, I trudge to bed and bury myself under the thick comforter. James joins me shortly after that, sliding between the smooth gray sheets and lying on his side to face me.
“Did you text your dad yet?” he asks.
“Yup.”
“And you’re meeting up with him?”
“Yeah. I’m only doing it because he went off on me when I had already moved out for college.” I pause. “If he’d kicked me out when I was still living with my parents, there’s no way I’d consider speaking to him again.”
James doesn’t say anything, but he reaches his arms out and slips them around me before pulling me close. I sigh, shift my head over so we’re sharing a pillow, and shut my eyes.
“We’re meeting tomorrow morning at the baseball diamond where I used to play a lot.”
He massages my shoulders. “Why did you choose to meet him there?”
I pause to think. “Honestly, it’s the first place that came to mind, but it might make my dad think about me as a kid. You know, before he did… everything.”
James nuzzles his face into the curve of my neck, and his breath tickles my chin as he speaks. “Yeah. That might help him realize that you’re more than who you like, I guess.”
We stay quiet for a while, not saying much at all. I try to read something to take my mind off tomorrow, but that isn’t successful. Giving up, I brush my teeth, get back into bed, and try to sleep. James flicks the lamp off and hugs me from behind, melting my nerves and calming me down, and I miraculously fall asleep in under an hour.
I always thought this was a terrible place to put a baseball diamond. Seriously, it’s on a cliff next to the sea. Looking back, I can’t count how many balls I batted into the ocean, never to be seen again.
Still, this is where Dad gave me my first bat when I was five. This is where I played most of my little-league games, where I hit my first in-game home run when I was nine, and where I made that diving catch in center field the same year, getting two runners out and saving the game. This is where Dad took me to celebrate after I got my full-ride baseball scholarship to UVM. I was only seventeen, but we shared a six-pack of beers, and he clapped me on the shoulder and told me that he couldn’t be prouder.
A frigid wind blows in from off the coast, which makes it harder to blink back tears. I force myself to stop reminiscing because I need to stay composed for whatever conversation Dad wants to have.
The sound of crunching gravel interrupts my thoughts and I swivel my head over toward the sound. It’s his car, still the same SUV he had when I was in high school. My jaw is firm as I watch Dad park and step out. He looks the same as I remember, if not a bit older.
Dad hesitates by the car, his head darting around. When his eyes land on me, he gives a small nod, shoves his hands into his pockets, and starts walking over, each step slower than it needs to be.
I grit my teeth and force myself to walk over, meeting him halfway.
“Ethan.” He stops a few feet away, keeping some distance between us. It’s clear that this isn’t going to be an easy conversation, but I knew that already.
“Dad.” My voice comes out sharper than I meant it to, but I can’t help it.
The resemblance between us is hard to miss. We lock eyes, the same sharp green staring back at me. Right now, if his eyebrows weren’t as relaxed as they are, I’d think I was in a face-off.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” he says. His tone is uncertain and tentative.
I shrug, trying to appear indifferent, but my heart’s pounding in my chest. “I figured it was as good a place as any.”
He nods again, gazing out at the field. “You remember how many times we came here?” he asks, sounding almost wistful.
My throat tightens. “Yeah. I remember.”
We stand there in silence for a moment, the tension between us, thick as the coastal fog. Finally, Dad clears his throat and looks me in the eye. “Ethan, there’s a lot I need to say. I know I messed up, but I need you to know that I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
I blink, taken aback. Dad never apologized for anything, ever. I was ready for excuses, even anger, but this? Never would’ve seen it coming. His words hang in the air, heavy and painful.
Keeping my hands shoved in the pockets of my jacket, I try to stay composed. “You called me every slur that exists and threw me out four years ago. There’s no undoing that,” I retort, my voice cracking. I’m being harsh, but I’m not wrong. “There’s no undoing the fact that after I blocked you, you grabbed Mom’s phone and kept spewing your vile messages at me. She told me everything.”
Dad flinches like I’m about to throw hands, and for a second, I almost feel bad. Almost.
He sighs. “I was brought up religious, Ethan,” he says, straining. “Ever since I was young, I was told that being gay was one of the worst things anyone could be. When you came out to me and your mother, I reacted the way I was taught to. I thought I’d failed you as a parent.”
He’s just standing there, and I don’t know what to do with everything he just dumped on me. I stiffen even more, my jaw clenching, and I don’t say anything.
Because I’m not the one who has to explain myself. He is.
Dad continues. “I was an idiot. Back then, I thought that you had been hiding something terrible, that you weren’t who I thought you were, and that you had deceived me.”
He lets out another shaky breath, his frustration obvious. “But the more I thought about it, I realized there was no real reason why you being gay should change how I felt about you. I couldn’t find any justification for rejecting someone I loved, someone I was so proud of.”
His voice cracks on the last word, and I see the raw emotion in his eyes. “But by the time I realized, it was too late,” he continues. “The damage was done, and I’d torn down the one person who least deserved it.”
“Not a single day goes by where I don’t think about you growing up.” His gaze bores into me, and I can sense it even though I’m not looking at him. “The first thing you’d do after winning a game was run straight to me, all smiles. You were always such a kind kid, and when you got older, you were probably the most patient and well-adjusted teenager to exist. You’re smart, capable, and so damn talented. I was so proud of you, Ethan, and I can’t believe I was stupid enough to throw that away.”
Again, he’s saying all the right things, but my mind keeps going back to what Mom said yesterday, about how Dad can’t run away from being reminded that I exist. Would he even care if I wasn’t some kind of public figure?
“What if I wasn’t successful?” I ask before I can stop myself. “What if I didn’t end up playing professionally? Would you still say you’re proud if all of Machias wasn’t talking about me?”
He frowns, taking a step toward me, his hand almost coming out of his pocket before he stops himself. “It’s not about your career?—”
“But what if it is?” I cut him off. “What if I wasn’t someone people know? Would you still have tried to reach out? Or would I just be a son you’re ashamed of because I didn’t turn out how you imagined?”
Dad rubs a hand over his face. “Ethan. I know it’s hard for you to believe me. But this isn’t about your success. I reached out because I was wrong, and I wanted you to know that. It just took me way too much time to realize how badly I screwed up.”
I turn away to face the water, closing my eyes so no tears come out. Dad is what I needed to hear, but it’s four years late. Opening my eyes, I stare out across the bay, a sharp wind from across the blue water blowing in and hitting my face.
His shoulders slump just a bit, and I let myself see regret in his expression. But I still see the man who threw his can of beer at me, yelled in my face, called me every name under the sun, and shoved me out of my childhood home. I feel like an asshole for not reacting and just staring ahead, giving off exactly zero hints as to what I’m thinking. But I can’t bring myself to forgive. Not yet.
I take in a lungful of cold, salty air and let it out. “Dad,” I start. “I appreciate you telling me this, and I’m glad that you did some thinking.”
There’s a pause as I come up with the best phrasing for what I’m about to say.
“I need time,” I continue. “Just letting you know, I want things to get better, but we’re not there yet.”
Dad gives me a tiny smile. “I understand, and I’ll be here when you’re ready,” he says.
And for the first time today, I start to believe him. Letting his words sink in, I keep my face fixed in a neutral expression. Even though things between us are tentatively better than they were when we first got here, I still don’t want to drive the conversation. The silence between us remains.
“Right,” Dad starts, clapping his hands together. “Thanks again for meeting me.”
“Sure, thanks for apologizing.”
Looking from side to side, I decide to wrap this whole thing up. “I should get going, though. It’s getting cold.”
“Of course, I’ll head out too.”
“I forgot where the parking lot was, so I parked across the field,” I say, pointing to the far side of the diamond with my thumbs as I start to walk away.
I didn’t forget where to park, and my plan was to avoid any awkward walk with my dad back to our cars after the conversation wrapped up. Leave it to someone like me to think of something like that.
My steps are brisk and my breathing is heavy as I process what just happened. Keeping everything under control is harder than I expected.
I finally make it to my truck and fumble with my key, accidentally locking the door and yanking a bit too hard at the handle. Leaning against the door, I steady myself enough to unlock the truck properly, and I stumble inside. I crouch my body over the steering wheel, breathing shakily in five-second increments, trying to calm myself down. It’s not clear how long I sit there re-living the last two conversations I had with my dad: the one we had today, and the one from four years ago.
Eventually, my breathing slows enough for me to regain composure. Rubbing my eyes back to life, I groggily start the engine and buckle in, steeling myself for the drive back to town.
I pull up to the Riverfront B&B, park, and step out for the short walk to the carriage house. The fog crept in from the coast as I drove, and the air is taking on an even deeper chill than when I was up on the cliff earlier.
The moment I step inside, I shed my jacket to let the dry, fire-heated air embrace me. James glances up from the couch where he’s lounging with his laptop.
“How did it go?” he asks. He sounds upbeat, but I can detect hints of concern.
I shrug. “He apologized. Said he was wrong. Things are shaky but fine, I guess.” I force a smile, but it doesn’t convince anyone.
James steps toward me, guiding me toward the couch and placing a hand on my shoulder. “That’s good, right? It’s a start.”
There’s a brief silence when I don’t respond right away, and I glance down while trying to swallow the rising lump in my throat. The weight of everything that happened on this trip, working through years of unanswered questions, and getting apologies from both my parents is overwhelming.
My chest tightens, and I step backward into the couch, trying to hold it together while sitting down without much grace at all. I bring my hands to my face in a last-minute attempt to bring myself back under control, but a quiet sob escapes before I can stop it.
The dam breaks. Tears come pouring out of me, raw, painful, but necessary. I vaguely register James’s arm around me and I hear his voice, not understanding a single word. My brain is full of static, overwhelmed and burdened by years of unresolved pain, of longing for an apology. Each breath I take is like some kind of release. Pouring myself out like this isn’t on-brand for me at all, but it’s something I desperately needed.
The world jarringly comes back into focus. My eyes land on the warm wood paneling of the carriage house, the crackling fireplace, and the brown bedspread. James’s arms are around me, my forehead resting on his shoulder. I look up at him, my eyes still blurry with tears, and I start right back up again.
I clutch at him, my fingers digging into the smooth fabric of his t-shirt that I quickly realize is actually one of mine. My heart aches, but it’s different, and an overwhelming wave of relief washes over me, intense and dizzying.
“James,” I manage to choke out, my voice breaking, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
His arms firm up around me as James leans down to kiss my forehead. He sounds soothing and warm, giving me a sense of comfort I didn’t know existed. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You aren’t alone in this.”
My breaths are ragged as I close my eyes to stave off another round of tears. My turmoil starts to unwind and I stay still on the couch, James and I wrapped around each other silently with my face buried in his shoulder.
“Hey, let’s do something tonight, it’ll help you take your mind off things.” James’s fingers run up and down my back, the familiar touch settling my emotions.
I wipe my left eye. “Where are we gonna go? The only bar in this town closes at eight.”
“We’ll do whatever. We can crack open a bottle of wine and plan a trip or something.”
“Sounds good to me.” I reach for a bottle of white wine that James left outside the window to chill and pour us two hefty glasses. Taking a larger-than-necessary sip, I let the cool alcohol take the edge off a hectic day.
“I was thinking about what to do next,” James starts, turning his wine glass around. “Do you want to spend the holidays in Toronto with me?”
“Like, Christmas?” I ask.
“Yeah, and New Year’s too.”
“Sure,” I reply. “I wouldn’t be intruding or anything, right?”
James stares at me incredulously. “Ethan. You’re my boyfriend . My parents ask me about you all the time. They’d make a bigger deal about it if you don’t show up.”
Wow. This is a major step, but it’s one I need to take.
“I’m in.”
James beams at me, his face lighting up the entire room. “Sweet. Time to book us some flights.”