Chapter Twenty-One
Ethan
S adie really meant what she said about nothing but business.
As the semester drags on, I can’t fault her professionalism, but all the warmth and banter has gone out of our interactions.
It appears she’s been able to leave behind whatever connection we had when we first met and move on.
Me? Not so much. I find my ears pricking up whenever her name is mentioned, desperate to find out what she’s up to outside work. I eavesdrop on her conversations in the tearoom and hover around the photocopy room, eager for titbits of information. I soak up the sound of her laugh as she chats with other staff and students.
And I’m giving myself a serious case of RSI thinking about her every night.
It’s getting harder to avoid the fact that being more than friends with Sadie is what I want. Whilst at the same time, it’s obvious even friendship is off the table as far as she’s concerned.
The mid-semester break comes and goes, and I’m flat out setting final assignments and marking while getting plans together for the dig. And avoiding being any place Riley, who continues to drop hints about us having dinner, might be.
Only two of my subjects have exams. I’d prefer not to have any. They’re an artificial construction based on memory, not critical thinking. I much prefer to set major assignments. But I inherited the curriculum, and there wasn’t time to rework all the subjects.
I schedule the exams for right at the beginning of the exam period in early November. The plan is for me to be in Egypt by the first of December. The students will join me right after Christmas, and we’ll dig through till mid-February.
I love lecturing and researching and even writing and delivering papers, but my true love is being on a dig. Sure, it’s hot and dirty and cramped and damn hard work. But being in the deserts of Egypt, the thrill of potentially finding something human eyes have not seen for five thousand years? Nothing beats it.
It will be good to catch up with my established dig team in Egypt, as well as a few of my old students from Cambridge, who’ll meet me there. It will also be good to get away from Sydney for a couple of months.
One of the benefits of scheduling the dig this way is that I can avoid family Christmas and an entire day of sad looks and unsubtle questioning. A fact that causes all sorts of consternation when I mention it at one of my rare family dinner appearances, which I can only avoid so often with Mum reminding me of it every week.
I try and make it once a month, but to be honest, it’s excruciating. I see Jess in every room of the house. Part of me wishes to God they’d sell it, so I’d never have to go back there. While the rest of me is terrified that’s what they’ll do, and that connection will be lost forever.
Then there’s the way all of us avoid talking about the elephant in the room. Which just reminds me of what Sadie said and how right she was that it’s me who is erasing Jess. And of how I completely buggered up any chance of even a friendly working relationship with Sadie. Let alone anything else.
It’s an unusual thing for a table full of Carters to stop eating. I was kind of hoping my announcement would get lost in the feeding frenzy, but no such luck. When I drop the bomb that I’m flying out in early December, the eating stops. As does the chatter.
I wish I wasn’t sitting opposite Mum, where I get the perfect view of her disappointment.
“Oh no, Ethan. You haven’t been home for Christmas in three years. I was so hoping you’d be here this year. What with all the new babies and everything,” she says, with a teary wobble in her voice.
Dad sits at the head of the table, silent and scowling. I hope he doesn’t start on one of his you’ve disappointed your mother diatribes. Disappointing Mum is something I hate doing, and he knows it.
“It’s an occupational hazard, I’m afraid. December to February is dig time in Egypt. It can’t be helped. With all the new babies, you’ll hardly even notice I’m not here.” I shovel another forkful of food into my mouth, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile.
“Hmph. I don’t suppose we can get in the way of his work, Stella,” Dad finally says, in a passive-aggressive way that’s rich coming from a lifelong workaholic. “And it seems like it’s already organised. But next year, perhaps you can find a way to be here.” It’s a statement, not a question. You contradict my father at your peril.
Ben’s eyes are burning a hole in my poker face. He’s aware I have discretion in setting the dates for the dig. So he knows I could’ve arranged for it to start later. Hell, I have an experienced Egyptian team on the ground in Cairo who are quite capable of doing a lot of the prep and planning.
The awkward silence that’s settled around the table is broken by a wail from Andrea.
“Oh-oh. It’s witching time.” Ben gets up and takes his now screaming baby from Rosanna’s arms. “I’ll take him for a walk. Why don’t you join me, Ethan?” It's uncanny how much Ben sounded like Dad then.
And before I know it, the baby is in his fancy-looking Silver Cross pram and we’re wandering along the street towards the park we used to play in as kids.
It takes no more than five minutes before Andrea’s screams become tiny little sobs, and then there’s silence from the pram.
“Works every time. But you have to keep moving till he’s really out,” Ben says, turning down the path into the park.
“I’ve never heard a noise like it. Does he do this every night?” My experience with babies is almost non-existent, but Andrea has always seemed a contented little thing.
“Yep. Same time every night. Don’t change the subject.” Ben tucks the rug tighter around the baby without missing a step in our walk.
“What subject? We weren’t talking about anything.”
“You know what subject. Is there a particular reason you don’t want to be home for Christmas?”
I stuff my hands in the pockets of my jacket and shrug.
“Nah. It’s just a lot, you know?”
Ben hasn’t always had the easiest relationship with our father, and there were many years he came and went from the fold, so he gets it in a way Will and Greer don’t.
“Oh, I know. How are things with Sadie?” Ben’s aware of my rejected apology.
“Still not speaking to me.” I sit on one of the swings and kick off gently while Ben walks back and forth. “The woman can really hold a grudge.”
“You know that’s not it. From what you’ve said, Sadie had an awful childhood. Her default setting is to protect herself. You can’t blame her for that.” Ben slows and tips his head, listening for any signs of dissent from the pram. When it’s silent, he flicks on the brakes and sits on the other swing.
“You’re right. I get it. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”
We’re silent for a while, the old chains on the swings creaking softly as we swing. Andrea sleeping quietly in his pram.
“I know it’s too late to change the dig for this year, but would you at least think about sticking around for Christmas next year? Greer’s baby will be here. Andy and the twins will be old enough to have an idea what’s going on. It’ll be chaos.” And he loves the thought.
“Ha. When is it not chaos?” I ask. “Get more than two Carters in a room at any time and shit happens.”
“It would mean a lot to Mum.” He pulls out the big guns.
“Piss off.” I try and sound annoyed. Instead, I sound guilty. “I’ll think about it.”
And I will. I came home to reconnect with my family, but right now I can’t wait to get to Egypt. Not so much to get away from them, but to get away from Sadie, and from their unspoken questions about her and my feelings.
I’m starting to wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have moved home permanently. Maybe it was too much all at once. Perhaps a holiday or two might have been easier. Dipping my toe in the water of my meddling, managing family might have been a better way to handle it. Too late now.
But if nothing else, not seeing Sadie daily will undoubtedly be a good thing. I’m hoping it will give me time to overcome my growing attachment.
Until Jennifer sticks her oar in. Again.