Ethan: I meant what I said. Nothing can happen.
Me: I know.
Ethan: So we agree.
Me: We agree.
Ethan: Good.
I wait for him to say something else. He doesn't. The conversation dies there.
I should feel relieved, we've established boundaries, made a plan, and totally agreed to nothing.
Instead, I feel worse.
I get up and make tea I don't drink. I sit on the couch and stare at the wall, trying to convince myself this is manageable.
It's not manageable.
Nothing about this is manageable.
My phone is still in my hand, I look at the thread with Ethan. All our messages laid out like evidence. I start typing before I can stop myself.
Me: What if Luke didn't know?
I hit send before I can think better of it.
The regret is immediate, I watch the dots appear, disappear and appear again.
Ethan: He'd find out eventually.
Me: Not if we were careful.
Ethan: Callie.
Me: I'm just saying.
Ethan: Don't.
Me: Don't what?
Ethan: Don't make this harder than it already is.
I stare at those words. At the admission buried in them. It's already hard for him. He's struggling too.
The knowledge doesn't make me feel better. It makes everything worse.
Me: Okay.
Ethan: Okay.
Neither of us says goodnight. The conversation just stops.
I sit there with my phone, my cold tea and the weight of everything I'm not saying.
This is a problem.
A big problem.
