I take a picture and turn back around. I wind the film. “Can I take a picture of you?”
He briefly glances over at me. “Why?”
“I thought you might want some pictures of the trip. To remember or to show your parents.”
He doesn’t answer me. He presses a button on the radio and Radiohead blasts through the speakers, just loud enough to muffle anything else I might say.
I recognize the song. I had this album. I probably still do somewhere. I remember it was on the CD we were listening to one night I was in Ethan’s room. The night I started this whole thing, honestly.
I say with forced lightness in my voice, “You still like them, huh?”
He doesn’t say anything for a minute or so, calculating a curve in the snowy roadway. “I burned a CD with all of Ev’s favorite bands.” His eyes cut over to me for a second. “To play for him on the way.”
I feel like I’m withering in the seat. I put the disposable camera back in my pocket for now. This is going to be a long-ass drive if I don’t say what I need to say. Just get it over with. It just seems stupid to be together like this, and not bring up the obvious.
“So, um,” I begin, my voice cracking like I’m going through puberty again. “I know I kind of, well not kind of, I definitely just went dark on you five years ago.” I pause and chance a look at him, and he’s staring straight ahead at the road. “And I just thought maybe we could talk about it?”
I lurch forward a little as he applies the brakes. He turns the Blazer to the right onto a random street off from the state highway. He drives a few feet then pulls over, sets the parking brake, and turns to face me.
“The only reason,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, “I’m letting you come along is because Everett would have wanted you to.”
I open my mouth to respond but he cuts me off.
“Because that’s what this trip is all about. Everett. Not you and me.” His eyes are like gray ice. “So, I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit. You don’t get to fucking sit here next to me and pretend you really give a fuck, when you didn’t even come to the funeral.”
“Ethan—”
“And after this, after I bring you back to Port Leyden, I don’t ever want to see you again.”
The last part is particularly vicious. And it hurts. It hurts like someone just spilled hot acid all over my insides. “Ethan, I—”
“I swear to God, if you bring up any of that shit with you and me, I’ll throw you out and you can walk back for all I care. You understand?”
I meekly nod.
He releases the parking brake and drives forward.
I stare out of the window, feeling shriveled up inside. I expected him to be angry, but it still shocks me, nonetheless. I mutter, perhaps foolishly, “I was at the funeral. I was late but I was there.” I feel emotion starting to fill my chest, but I keep my voice steady. “I missed him.” I swallow and say so quietly that I’m sure he doesn’t hear me. “And I missed you too.”
6
Ethan
January 1999
He fuckingmissedme?Thismotherfucker missedme?
If I wasn’t trying so hard to keep control over myself, I’d laugh. I’d laugh like a goddamn hyena.
I knew the chances were slim that I was going to get out of Port Leyden without hearing from Shane Carraway. I’d prepared myself. I’d created this cruel, evil monster in my head. A monster that enjoyed hurting people, abandoning them, and leaving them in the dark. But I figured this cruel, evil monster would have the decency to say something.
So that’s what I’d prepared myself for. That’s what I was all ready for when Shane showed up today.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the familiar butterflies when I saw him, looking practically the same, just older and a little worn. There are light circles under those deep-brown eyes now and three silver rings in his left ear. What I also wasn’t prepared for were the tears he brushed away after looking at that picture of the three of us from a million years ago.
But when I saw him, for a split second—huge emphasis onsplitsecond—I nearly went over to him to hug him. It’s something I would have done with absolutely zero hesitation when I was a kid. It’s something I would have done the last night I saw him. And if I’m being super honest with myself, it’s something I would have done still, even months later, with my heart shattered all to bits. I still would have brushed his tears away, wrapped my arms around him, and let him cry his eyes out. Because that was the kind of pathetic twerp I was.
I get out another cigarette. I can tell Shane doesn’t like it, but I’m not the kid that constantly fretted over what he thought of me anymore, so he can fucking deal.
