Whatever’s happening, I’m positive that I wasn’t meant to witness it. And every second that ticks by makes it harder to discern if it’s more awkward to announce that I’m leaving or just keep standing here pretending I don’t notice.
Rachel looks around the room. It’s a wreck. There’s assembled furniture pushed at odd angles, cardboard boxes sagging in corners, and heaps of crumpled plastic catching the light. We didn’t make it to the cleanup phase before crashing last night.
“You two must have gotten an early start,” Rachel says more to Ethan than me. He doesn’t even attempt to reply. She motions over her shoulder to the front door. “I’m just going to get Sophia out of the car.”
Ethan nods stiffly.
I try to think of something to say. Some combination of words that simultaneously acknowledges and dismisses what happened between us moments ago, but that also conveys “I’ll be fleeing now.” Then I realize that Ethan’s shoulders are absolutely rigid. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. Whatever this is, it’s far more complicated than our accidental almost-kiss in bed. In fact, I don’t think it has anything to do with me at all, judging by the fact that he doesn’t even seem to be aware that I’m still in the room.
I stand there evaluating the situation but come up short of an explanation. A moment later, a little girl with light brown pigtails appears in the doorway. She looks around, unsure if she should enter the living room. But when she spots Ethan, the uncertainty fades from her face and her eyes light up.
“Daddy!” she yells, rushing toward him.
Um, what?
Tension swells inside the small room. Rachel stops in the doorway, her eyes wide and her jaw hanging open. Ethan is as stiff as a board, right up until the little girl’s body collides with his leg and her little arms wrap around this thigh.
Looking mortified, Rachel rushes toward her daughter like she might pull her away but stops short. There’s a careful edge to her voice when she says, “Sophia, that’s your uncle Ethan. Do you remember him?”
Ethan squats down, putting himself eye level with his niece. I can’t see his face, but I can see the tension in his posture. When Sophia realizes that he’s not her father, she springs away from him, looking uncertain and embarrassed by her mistake.
Slowly, she drifts toward the safety of her mother. Rachel rests her hand on Sophia’s back, rubbing a few soothing circles as she flashes Ethan an apologetic look.
“It’s okay,” he assures Rachel tensely. Dropping his gaze back to Sophia and softening his voice, Ethan greets her. “Hi Sophia, I’m your Uncle Ethan. It’s nice to see you again.”
Sophia folds into her mother, shying away from the greeting. “That’s not daddy,” she says.
Her mother strokes her hair. “No, honey, that’s Uncle Ethan. Can you say hi, please?”
The little girl peels her face away from her mother’s leg to glance at Ethan. “Hi,” she squeaks in a tiny voice.
“Hi,” Ethan repeats.
It feels like we’re all standing on a landmine, unable to move without risking an explosion.
“I need a minute,” Ethan mutters, standing abruptly and walking out the front door.
I have no idea what’s happening or what to do about it. All I know is that I’m now standing in the living room with Ethan’s sister-in-law and her daughter wishing for the ability to teleport anywhere else.
“He looks like daddy,” Sophia tells her mother.
“I know, baby.”
Our eyes connect from across the room. Because I can’t think of a single thing to say, I mumble something about checking on Ethan and motion towards the door. Rachel nods, watching me as I cross the room and step outside.
Ethan is nowhere to be found. I walk to the end of the driveway, rubbing my arms to fight off the chill in the air. I look around and spot Ethan walking on the sidewalk a couple houses down. He stops abruptly and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Fuck!” he cusses just loud enough for me to hear. The word is gritty and desperate, catching me off guard.
I may know Ethan pretty well, but in two years of working with him, I’ve never seen him truly upset. Mildly perturbed is about the strongest emotion I’ve seen from the man, even after the most brutal of meetings.
He doesn’t know I’m here. I watch him for a moment before taking a few hesitant steps in his direction. Ethan was there for me when I needed someone, and I want to return the favor.
My voice is soft as I approach. “Ethan, is everything okay?”
When he straightens up and turns to look at me, I know that nothing is okay. He wasn’t pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration; he was pinching his eyes shut trying to hold back tears.
“Yeah, it’s just…”