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Why am I thinking about Ethan’s penis? Super gross.
Obviously, I came here with what I thought was a pretty clear picture of who he was, but I have to admit that version seems to be crumbling.
“Well, since we’ve got some time to kill,” I say, and move from more of a squat to a sit, “can I ask you a totally personal and invasive question?”
He rubs at the spot on his leg. “If it means you won’t kick me again, yes.”
“What happened between you and Sophie? Also, how did you two happen in the first place? She is very . . . hmm, 90210. And you seem more . . .”
Ethan closes his eyes and then leans to look outside the barricade. “Maybe we should just run for it—”
I pull him back. “We have one more life each, and I’m using you as a human shield if we leave. Talk.”
He takes a deep breath and blows his cheeks out as he exhales. “We were together for about two years,” he says. “I was living in Chicago at the time, if you remember, and went to the Twin Cities to visit Dane. I stopped by his office and she worked in the same building. I saw her in the parking lot. She’d dropped a box full of papers, and I helped her pick them up.”
“That sounds like an incredibly clichéd beginning to a movie.”
To my surprise, he laughs at this.
“And you moved there?” I ask. “Just like that.”
“It wasn’t ‘just like that.’ ” He reaches to wipe some mud from his face, and I like the gesture, the way I can tell it comes from vulnerability during this conversation more than vanity. In a weird burst of awareness, I register this is the first time I’m really talking to Ethan. “It was after a few months, and I’d had a standing job offer in the Cities for a while. Once I was back in Minneapolis, we decided, you know, why not? It made sense to move in together.”
I pull my jaw closed once I register that it’s been hanging open. “Wow. It takes me a few months to decide if I like a new shampoo enough to stick with it.”
Ethan laughs, but it’s not a particularly happy sound and makes something squeeze inside my chest.
“What happened?” I ask.
“She didn’t cheat or anything that I know of. We got an apartment in Loring Park, and things were good. Really good.” He meets my eyes for a brief pulse, almost like he’s not sure I’ll believe him. “I was going to propose on the Fourth of July.”
I lift a brow in question at the specific date, and he reaches up to scratch his neck, embarrassed. “I thought it might be cool to do it while the fireworks were going off.”
“Ah, a grand gesture. I’m not sure I would have pegged you as the type.”
He laugh-groans. “I got that far, if that’s what you’re wondering. A friend was having a barbecue, and we went over to his place, hung out for a while, then I took her up to the roof and proposed. She cried and we hugged, but it registered later that she never actually said yes. Afterward we went back inside and started to help him clean up. Sophie said she wasn’t feeling great and would meet me at home. When I got there, she was gone.”
“Wait, you mean like gone gone?”
He nods. “Yep. All her stuff was gone. She’d packed up and left me a note on a dry-erase board in our kitchen.”
My brows come together. “A dry-erase board?”
“ ‘I don’t think we should get married. Sorry.’ That’s what she said. Sorry. Like she was telling me she splattered tomato sauce on my favorite shirt. You know I cleaned that board a hundred times and those damn words never went away? And I don’t mean that in a metaphorical sense. She used a Sharpie, not a dry-erase marker, and it literally stained the words into the board.”
“Oof. That’s awful. Why not just burn the board?”
He shrugs with a self-deprecating grin. “I’m cheap.”
This makes me laugh, but I sober quickly at the thought of being dumped that way. “You grand-gestured, and she dry-erase-boarded you? God, no offense, but Sophie is a giant dick.”
This time when he laughs, it’s louder, lighter, and the smile reaches his eyes. “None taken. It was a dick thing to do, even if I’m glad she did it. I thought we were happy, but the truth is, our relationship lived on the surface. I don’t think it would have worked much longer.” He pauses. “I just wanted to be settled, maybe. I think I grand-gestured for the wrong person. I realize I need someone I can talk to, and she doesn’t really like to go too deep.”
This doesn’t entirely mesh with my image of him as a jet-setting daredevil, but then again, neither did the vision of him on the plane, clutching the armrests. Now I have new Ethan Facts to add to the list.
14.He’s frugal.
15.He’s introspective.
