Ethan
Ethan
“Ethan?”
I’m so startled by the sound of my name that I nearly spill the full cup of coffee I’d forgotten was in my hand all over my desk, computer, notes, and a printed copy of the budget proposal for the gallery I’ve been proofreading all morning. Could I proofread on my computer like any other human? Probably, but for some reason, I feel like I do a better job of catching tiny issues when actual paper is in front of me. Max is wearing an almost motherly, amused smile when I finally pull my mess together and look up to figure out what drew me out of my revelry.
I’ve accomplished very little this morning other than daydreaming about Blue. The past two months have been unlike anything I’ve ever known or imagined. Even the seven months I was lucky enough to call Jordyn my own weren’t quite like this. It’s not that I feel like I love Blue more than I loved Jordyn, but I certainly love him differently. He’s so open and self-assured about himself and his life, and that confidence has spilled over into our romantic relationship. When we walk down the street together, his fingers are laced through mine. Every single time. When we sit side by side in the coffee house or at a club on Friday Night Friend Dates or on the rare evening that our schedules align to the point we’re able to go out to dinner, he always settles next to me with his hand on my thigh or his arm around my shoulders. He kisses my cheek and leans our heads against one another and whispers conspiratorial jokes and sweet nothings in my ear without giving any thought to who might see us. When we’re watching TV or I’m working from his couch late at night, our limbs are tangled together as if they’re not capable of existing on their own anymore. We’ve never had to hide, never had to worry, never had to wonder, because Blue simply doesn’t care about what anyone else thinks. All that matters to him is us. It’s new and scary and so absolutely and completely freeing to know that the fact he is mine and I am his isn’t conditional.
I was only ever allowed to love Jordyn in secret, not just because of the way the rest of the world might have reacted, but because that’s what Jordyn needed. I understand that now, and it doesn’t dim or taint the way that I loved him, the way I love him still, but I’m grateful that loving Blue is different. I’m grateful for the way he touches me and smiles at me as if nothing else in the world exists when I’m around.
We spend our nights wrapped in one another’s arms, and the way I tremble and keen at the slightest touch, the way we cling to one another, the way our bodies curl and fit together so utterly perfectly as we move in smooth, practiced rhythms will always be something indescribable and precious. I never dreamed sex could feel the way it does with Blue, never believed that books and movies and my wildest imaginings couldn’t even come close to the reality of his body sliding against or around or inside mine.
When we’re not together - when we’re working, or Blue is at the hot shop - his soul lingers at the edges of mine as if we’re never truly apart. The stray scent of apple shampoo in a store, the glint of light bouncing off a stranger’s eyebrow piercing, even the sound of incoming ocean waves that I know are the color blue of stormy and soulful eyes - a thousand small things a day are enough to pull me away from reality and send my mind dancing through dreams and memories and moments, and it’s hard to believe that it’s real. That the scenes that pull me away aren’t imaginary, and this is actually my life. More and more these days, I find myself floating in a trance, trying to keep my expression professional and my mind on my work. It’s something I’m quickly coming to realize I’m not very successful at if Max was able to sneak-attack me even though I knew she was at the gallery, the floors are hardwood and slightly echoey, and I had my door wide open.
“Sorry.” I cringe and gesture to the chair across from me. Not that she needs an invitation to sit at her own desk in her own studio, but it feels like the polite thing to do. We talk from time to time outside our formally scheduled owners’ meetings, but she rarely seeks me out in the little sanctuary I’ve created for myself surrounded by plants and papers and a small stack of books and financial publications in the small upstairs office.
Max treats me the same way she seems to treat everyone else at the gallery, and I’ll always be grateful for that. While everyone has been open and welcoming, Max has made me feel like one of her team rather than an outsider by offering gentle, well-placed suggestions and randomly asking my opinion about artworks and gallery business items that aren’t directly related to my position here. By settling coffee on my desk without a word on the days late afternoon arrives without warning and she notices that I’ve been in the office all day. She doesn’t really know me, not the way Blue or Gabriel do, but she’s welcomed me into the gallery that’s been her life for thirty years with kind smiles and subtle teasing and zero hesitation. She treats me like I’m one of her own, and it’s a welcome change from the professional distance and half-smiles that I’m used to at work.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I quite often find myself drifting away into my own thoughts in the way you seemed to be just now. When I was younger, I told myself it was because I had a vivid imagination and a strong sense of wanderlust. These days, I just wonder if I’m slowly losing my marbles.” She settles into the chair with a grace I’ve rarely encountered, her long white hair floating around her like a gossamer veil .
“I don’t think you really believe that.” I grin, knowing she’s simply joking. Gentle humor seems to be her way of breaking the ice everywhere she goes.
“No. I don’t really mean that, of course, but the fact that you know I don’t mean it is interesting, don’t you think?”
“I, umm…” I struggle to come up with something witty to say because simply staring at her with a confused expression doesn’t exactly instill confidence from the man she’s entrusted with the future of her business, but I don’t quite understand what she means.
She settles back into the chair, hands clasped lightly in her lap as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.
“How are things going, Ethan?”
I’m thrown by the abrupt change of subject but quickly push my personal confusion aside and shift back to my normal professional persona.
“Things are going really well. This is an extremely interesting industry, and everyone working here at the gallery and at all the shops seems very competent and, for the most part, excited about the merger into one entity. Because everyone has had nearly everything in order for me, things are moving faster than I anticipated, and the loans for the purchase of shops should be finalized next month. I’m confident that we’ll wrap things up slightly ahead of schedule and without too many hiccups.”
Max smiles her kind, caring, almost secret smile. “I meant, how are things going with you, Ethan?”
“With me?” Why in the world is she asking about me? What does she want me to say?
“I’ve been watching you since you arrived, but I have to admit, I’ve stepped it up a little lately. Though, saying that out loud certainly makes me sound a tad…creepy.” She laughs her quiet, musical laugh, and it’s hard to be insulted or upset even though I don’t really know what to make of the fact my boss has apparently been studying me like I’m a laboratory specimen.
“You’ve changed, Ethan. You’re a quiet man, introspective and observant. I like that about you, but when you arrived, it was more than that. You seemed a bit…lost. You don’t seem lost now. You seem happy here.”
I see Max nearly every day, but we don’t really interact on a personal level. In fact, we rarely see each other for more than a few minutes at a time. How has she seen so much? I realize now that I’ve been unhappy for a long time, but it’s hard to believe it’s been so bad that it was obvious to a woman I don’t really know outside of the office.
“I am happy here.” My voice breaks over the words, and I don’t know how to sit here and acknowledge all that I’ve managed to find since coming to Seattle without breaking down and crying in front of my boss.
She nods once with that same knowing smile.
“You fit here, Ethan, and I’d like you to consider staying. You’ve done a wonderful job so far, and I’m not getting any younger. Taking on the financial management of such a large and newly merged business isn’t something I want to undertake. One way or another, I’ll hire someone else to oversee things for me, but I’d truly like for that person to be you.”
“You want…to stay…you want me to stay? Like…forever?” How is my voice this high and squeaky? I didn’t even know it could sound like that.
“For as long as you’d like, of course. I consider my employees friends, and I’m not in the habit of roping my friends into long-term obligations they don’t want, but yes.” She chuckles softly. “Forever, Ethan.”
“I don’t…I mean…when I came here, I never in my life expected that I’d find…” I trail off, desperately aware of how close I am to spilling my soul right here in my tiny office.
She leans forward almost conspiratorially. “What did you find, Ethan?”
A rough chuckle escapes before I can hold it back. “I found everything. ”
“Tell me about everything.”
I have no chance against such a simple request from such a formidable woman. It’s not possible for me to continue to hide from the world or from myself when Max is sitting across from me looking like an ageless elf or supportive aunt whom I’ve known all my life. I open up my soul and let her see all that I am and all that I’ve found. I tell her about the way Blue winked at me at the coffee shop during my first week in town. I tell her about the way he and Gabriel forced me to go out with their friends that first time, how they still playfully pretend to force me, even though we all know that I’ve begun to look forward to Friday Night Friend Dates nearly as much as they do. I tell her about the way they accepted me instantly and completely, the way they’ve made me feel welcome and loved and how they’ve never ever, not even once, made me feel like the odd man out because I’m shy and nervous and rambling. I tell her about being demisexual. About the fact I was thirty-two years old when I realized that I’m not broken - I’m just a little different. I tell her about Blue, probably too much about Blue. I talk and talk and talk, and she smiles and nods and listens as if I’m telling her the most intriguing story she’s ever heard in her life.
I tell her that I love him.
“Have you told him how you feel? ”
“Not in so many words.” I cringe. “It’s such a huge risk. I mean, I know it’s one worth taking, but I just…What if it changes things?”
Her smile softens slightly, and for the first time - for only the briefest of moments - she looks her age. Rather than some ethereal, ageless beauty, she looks like a woman who may have known love and loss in her life, just like the rest of us.
“But…” she leans forward just a bit, “what if it changes things?”
I sink back into my chair with an ache in my chest. She’s right, of course. At this point, after two months of spending every possible moment in Blue’s arms. After talking abstractly about our futures, and finally, for the first time in my adult life, understanding what it is to want someone and be wanted in return. Of course it will change things to tell him that I love him, but it will change them for the better.
She must see the moment the realization hits me like a ton of bricks because she relaxes back into her seat once more. “There are worse things in life than taking a risk once in a while, love. You took a risk in coming here to work with us, and I like to think that’s turned out alright.”
I nod with an embarrassed laugh at how right she is, and after a long moment of comfortable silence, she stands and heads toward the door to leave me to sort through my newest emotional epiphany. “Think about my offer, Ethan. Talk to Blue. There’s no rush.”
“Thank you, Max. Truly. For everything.” I offer my words, quiet and heartfelt, to her back as she walks away. How do I even begin to express my thanks for all the ways she’s changed my life? How do I thank someone for the simple action of posting an ad when it led me to the chance to find love and happiness and…myself? How do I thank her for offering me the opportunity to stay and just maybe, if I’m very, very lucky, to keep those things indefinitely?
“Ethan.” She pauses with a backward glance in my direction just before she steps out of the room. “Sometimes, the plan the universe has in store for us barely even resembles the one we’ve been anticipating. Some moments are painful and incomprehensible, but some are beautiful and filled with a joy so immense we never could have imagined its existence. Both are fleeting, so remember to hold tightly to the good ones.”
She’s right, of course. She’s right about telling Blue that I love him, and she’s right that my life has been filled with moments of both elation and despair. It’s never been easy for me, though, to hold on to only the good moments. Loss and grief and loneliness have always felt so much stronger to me, and pushing them to the side is something I’ve never been very good at. For years, they’ve defined my life even though it was never my intention to let them. In this moment though…in this moment I have hope. Hope that I’ll be able to hold on to all of the good that ha s suddenly appeared in my life and let it fill me so completely there is no room left for anything else.
The exhibition Emerald City Arts is holding to showcase the incredible range and creative possibilities artists can achieve utilizing only one specific medium is coming up in two weeks. Right now, Blue is spending every waking moment pouring his nervousness and excitement, his heart and soul into his art. He’s even taken the next two weeks off work so he can finish the pieces he has planned in time. Every once in a while, I’ll head down to the hot shop with a coffee and pastry or giant bowl of pasta just to make sure he remembers to eat once in a while. I’ll watch him work for a bit while I’m there, his brow furrowed in concentration, clothes singed, jawline covered in a bright sheen of sweat, and he’ll take a break to sit with me and smile a happy, exhausted smile. Most nights, he finds me either in his bed or mine and collapses at my side, pulling me close and nuzzling my neck for the briefest of moments before he’s snoring quietly at my side. He’s lost to the world when he’s creating, but that’s okay. The world he’s creating is filled with so much beauty, and it’s astonishing to watch the way he treats the process of creation with so much passion and intensity. It’s the same way he treats me.
I don’t mind that he’s had less time to spend with me over the past week or that he’ll only get busier over the next two. The chance to be a solo exhibitionist at a gallery as big as Emerald City isn’t something many artists get, and I’m thrilled for him. I know that to have his work on display, brightly lit, and surrounded by patrons filled with awe over his talent is the chance of a lifetime. I think that I’ll tell him then. I’ll stand by his side, our fingers laced tightly together as he looks around and realizes just how amazing he is, and then I’ll tell him. What better time to have someone tell you that they’re in love with you than when you’re already on top of the world?