Chapter 12 - Shane
Shane
When I come out of the bathroom, I see Ethan sitting by the big window that faces the parking lot, watching the snow.
I miss him like this—sitting by a window, looking out at the sky, the way he used to do. Curious Ethan. I missed him so much.
I get the disposable camera out of my coat pocket. I lay across the bed to get a good angle. I snap a picture. Ethan turns his head to look at me. I snap another one.
“Is this fun for you?” he says quietly.
I rewind the film and set the camera down. “Sorry.”
He shrugs weakly. “I don’t care. Do whatever you want.” He looks out of the window again. The snow is coming down like cotton balls pouring from the sky. It’s sticking to everything, piling up on cars.
“Try not to worry about Everett,” I say. “He’s safe.”
He nods. He bends his head down, honey-blond hair tumbling over his forehead. Sad Ethan. Then he looks over at me. “Hey, did you tell that lady my name?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I might have.”
He nods again and looks out the window.
I’d missed our photo adventures. I thought about them a lot over the last five years.
I especially thought about how they eventually stopped being about the photos and turned into us being alone together.
Alone to talk. Alone to make out. It was exciting, but it was frightening too.
I was always waiting for someone to catch us.
But being alone with him was something I used to look forward to.
And here we are, alone together again.
I don’t know if I’d call this exciting.
I look around the room. The bed isn’t very big.
Maybe full size. I decide that can be where Ethan sleeps.
I try to figure out how I’ll sleep, because there is no way he’s going to allow us to be in one bed together.
Even though his initial iciness toward me is starting to melt just a little, it would still be too much. And too presumptuous.
I’m considering putting two of the chairs together to see if I could somehow lay across them when Ethan gets up and goes over to his coat and puts it on.
He pulls the hood over his head and goes out into the snowy evening.
I almost follow him, but I figure he’s just stepping out for a smoke.
I doubt he’d be so crazy as to attempt to walk through the snow back to Denny’s again.
At least I hope not.
I take the opportunity to use the motel phone to call my boss and Gina to tell them about our delay, but I don’t tell them about Ev’s ashes.
I don’t want that gossip mill running around town and upsetting Ethan even more, or worse, making it back to his parents.
I get to talk to Mikayla for a little bit.
Just as I’m hanging up, the motel room door flings open and a stack of plastic totes with legs comes inside.
I rush over to help, grabbing the top one.
Ethan sets the rest on the table. Snow falls off onto the table and carpet, melting into puddles.
“What’s all this?” I ask him.
He takes the lid off one of the totes, then he picks it up and dumps out the contents. Packages of food and plastic bottles of water spill all over the table and bounce off onto the floor.
Ethan shakes out the tote and sets it down. He glances over at me. “Mom packed this one.”
“I can see,” I say, picking up a microwavable cup of noodles off the floor.
I gather up packs of crackers, trail mix, chips, bottled water, Gatorade, and lots and lots of Cup O Noodles and set everything on the table.
Ethan opens another tote and rummages through it. He pulls out a flashlight, a crank-up radio, and some bungee cords.
“And I guess your dad packed that one,” I say.
“They wanted to make sure I’d be safe,” Ethan says, pulling out a rolled up sleeping bag, and then a folded-up blanket. He puts everything else back and replaces the top. “If you need to shower, do it now,” he says. “I’m going to sleep in the tub.”
“No, don’t do that. You take the bed.” I reach for the sleeping bag and blanket. “I’ll sleep in the tub.”
I see him bristling, his jaw clenching slightly like he might argue, but his shoulders sag and he shoves the sleeping bag and blanket into my arms. “Suit yourself.” He swipes a pack of crackers from the table and sits on the edge of the bed.
He turns on the TV and starts flipping through the channels.
I grab a bag of trail mix. “You think maybe you should call your mom and dad?”
He shrugs, staring at a fuzzy rerun of Mama’s Family.
“I guess you don’t need to right now.” I sit down at the table and eat some of the trail mix and drink some of the water. We watch the TV in silence for a time. Then I reach for my bag and take out the manila envelope with the photos and set it on the table by Ethan’s cigarettes and lighter.
“Gonna shower,” I tell him, and he barely acknowledges me.
Once I find the towels, and I’m under the hot—albeit weak—stream, I force myself to take a long, deep breath.
Today was stressful. And not just for Ethan. I’m used to taking care of other people and ignoring what’s going on inside of me. I’ll “skip over” myself if it’s a matter of doing something for someone else. Keeping them safe. Keeping them sane.
The hot water helps the strain of the day wash away, and I roll my head from side to side under the spray. Then I get out, towel off, and realize I didn’t bring my clothes in the bathroom with me, so I’ll have to go out into the room in just a towel. I hesitate and suddenly feel shy.
I’m pretty sure Ethan and I have been around each other like this before. We would go swimming in the river in the summer. But I feel funny about it now. I don’t know why. But I step out of the bathroom and rush over to my bag to get some clothes.
When I look over at the bed, I see Ethan sitting there, hugging his knees, rocking back and forth.
“Ethan?”
He peeks up at me over his arm and sniffs.
I go over to him. “Are you okay?”
He wipes the tears from his face where his eyeliner has smudged and rolls his eyes at me. “Do I look okay to you?”
In one of his hands, I notice he’s clutching that picture of us on the rocks at the river. I gently take it from his hand and set it on the bedside table. I sit beside him and place a pensive hand on his shoulder.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know why in the hell”—he sniffs again—“I thought I could just do this all alone.”
“You’re not alone,” I assure him.
“I know but…” He swallows. “I didn’t know you’d actually show up.
So, I was just going to do this all by myself.
And…” He shakes his head again. “I wouldn’t have been able to.
I wouldn’t have made it.” Fresh tears stream down his eyeliner-stained cheeks.
“I would’ve just turned around and gone back home.
Like a fucking coward. And even with someone with me, I still can’t help but fuck things up.
He has to spend the night in some strange old lady’s house because of me. ”
“It’s my fault, Ethan,” I say gently. “It’s my fault we left his ashes, okay? I shouldn’t have brought up the past, like you said. It’s my fault.”
He shakes his head and rubs his eyes. “No. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have taken them in.” He lets out a harsh laugh. “I mean, is there a guidebook? For what to do with your brother’s ashes?”
I gingerly put an arm around him. “This is new for me too. And I miss him. Everett. I really do.”
For a brief second, Ethan stiffens under my arm like he might argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he cries silently into his elbow, and I move closer to him, sitting behind him, and wrapping my arms around him. He lets me. He even relaxes against me a little.
I don’t want to say anything that’s going to upset him even more, so I just don’t say anything at all. Instead, I lean back against the headboard and take Ethan with me. He lays back against me, his back to my chest, and I let him cry it out because he needs that.
And maybe I do too.
But I can’t shed a tear while Ethan’s in my arms. Eventually, he stops crying and falls asleep.
When I next open my eyes, the motel room is dim except for a lamp and an outline of white daylight around the curtains.
I sit up on an elbow and find that I’m under the covers. The towel I had wrapped around me came undone from around my waist. And I’m alone in the bed.
I look around the room. The TV is on, showing the weather, but the volume is low.
I don’t see Ethan, but then the bathroom door opens, and Ethan emerges in an all-black outfit, his blond hair damp, and fresh eyeliner around his eyes.
His gaze shifts over to me before he goes over to the table and grabs a water.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning,” he mutters, putting on his coat. He grabs his cigarettes and lighter from the table and heads outside.
I rub my eyes and turn my attention to the TV. It looks like there’s still more snow heading this way. I’m a little afraid to open the curtains to see what it looks like outside.
While Ethan’s gone, I take the opportunity to get dressed and brush my teeth. By the time he comes back inside, I’m making coffee in the little coffee maker.
“Still snowing?” I ask him.
He nods, tossing his pack of cigs and lighter on the table.
“Want some coffee?” I offer him a Styrofoam cup. “I don’t know how you take it. If you like cream or sugar.”
He frowns at the cup. “That’s bad for the environment.”
I frown at him. “Coffee’s bad for the environment?”
He takes the cup from me and digs around in one of the totes.
“The cup is made from polystyrene. Polystyrene waste is really toxic, and plus, the cups take five hundred years to break down.” He takes out a metal travel mug and pours the coffee in it.
“And when they do they just put chemicals into the ground and water.” He takes a small sip.
“Benzene and ethylene. Kills the fish and wildlife.”
“Oh.” I look down at the cup in my hand. “I mean, we’re driving a car on a really long road trip, plus those cups of noodles are made of foam, so…”