Chapter 8 - Ethan Quit Before Our Marriage Started Falling Apart
I picked Ethan up from school myself.
No driver.
No family coordinator.
No Marcus.
He climbed into the SUV and looked surprised to see me.
“Where's Mr. Cole?”
“Day off.”
“He never gets Tuesdays off.”
“He does now.”
Ethan buckled his seat belt.
“Mom know you're getting me?”
“Yes.”
That was the first question.
Not where are we going?
Did Mom know?
I drove toward home.
After two blocks I said:
“You stopped basketball two months ago.”
He looked out the window.
“Dana told you.”
“Your coach told her.”
“Same thing.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
He shrugged.
I waited.
He hated when I waited.
After another block:
“You'd make it a whole thing.”
“What does that mean?”
“See?”
I glanced over.
“I'm asking.”
“You ask like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like there's a correct answer.”
I almost argued.
Then didn't.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Ethan.”
He sighed.
“I don't like playing right now.”
“Why?”
“Because everybody watches me.”
“You've always had people watching.”
“Not like this.”
I pulled into a quiet grocery-store parking lot.
He frowned.
“We're not home.”
“I know.”
I put the car in park.
“No practice. No dinner waiting. No game tonight. Tell me.”
He stared at the dashboard.
“Coach keeps asking if I want extra sessions.”
“That's normal.”
He gave me a look.
I shut up.
“Kids ask if you're coming.”
I listened.
“If you come, nobody watches the game.”
My stomach tightened.
“They watch you watching me.”
I hadn't thought of it that way.
“And when I mess up, people look at you.”
“What do I do?”
He didn't answer.
“What?”
“You make the face.”
“What face?”
He turned toward me and copied it.
Jaw tight.
Eyes narrowed.
Professional concentration.
I almost laughed.
Then saw how much he hated it.
“I’m not mad at you.”
“I know.”
“You just think about what I should've done.”
I sat back.
He was right.
I watched basketball like basketball.
Even when my son was twelve.
Especially when my son was twelve.
“Did you tell Mom?”
“Not at first.”
“Why?”
“She'd tell you.”
“Eventually.”
“She waited three weeks.”
“Are you angry at her?”
“Yes.”
“More than me?”
I looked at him.
“I'm not ranking you.”
He nodded.
Good answer, apparently.
I asked:
“Why did you finally tell her?”
“Because Marcus asked what team I wanted to play for in California.”
I went still.
“He said that?”
“He said there are good programs.”
“And?”
“I told him I wasn't playing anymore.”
“What did he say?”
Ethan rubbed the sleeve of his hoodie.
“He said not to tell you until after the move.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Why?”
“He said you'd think I was reacting to the family stuff.”
I stared ahead.
Marcus had not only manipulated what Ethan said.
He had decided when I should learn something about my own son.
I breathed slowly.
“Anything else?”
Ethan hesitated.
Here it came.
“Mom asked me not to tell you she knew.”
I turned.
“Why?”
“She said she needed time.”
“For what?”
“I don't know.”
At home, Nora was waiting on the porch.
She saw my face before I opened the door.
“What?”
I looked at Ethan.
“Go inside.”
He did.
Nora folded her arms.
“You talked to him.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“When you could hear it without turning it into a problem to solve.”
I stared.
“You don't get to decide when I'm emotionally qualified to know my son quit.”
“No.”
That answer stopped me.
She continued.
“I was wrong.”
I waited.
“I thought if I gave him a few weeks, he'd tell you himself.”
“He didn't.”
“No.”
“Then Marcus found out first.”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
I looked toward the front door.
“We have both been deciding what the other person can handle.”
Nora didn't argue.
Then she said:
“There's something Ethan doesn't know.”
I looked back at her.
“What?”
“I told Marcus to stop talking to him a month ago.”
My expression changed.
“When?”
“Before the hotel.”
“And?”
“He apologized.”
May you like
She held my stare.
“Then he did it again.”
