Free Hush by Anne Frasier Page B

with him? The
phoniness of it all—he couldn't take it anymore. That Max was going
out of his way for these father- and-son outings enraged him. When
Ethan was little and would see something on TV that scared him, he
would chant to himself, This isn't real. This isn't real. That's
what he did now with Max.
    The indecisive woman moved down the counter,
where she would probably spend another hour trying to decide if she
wanted a latte or an espresso, raspberry or chocolate-almond
flavoring.
    "Can I help you?" he asked the next
customer.
    He and his dad had always been close—that's
what made the truth sit in his gut like a bunch of mold- covered
rocks. One day not long ago, Ethan had a fight with a neighbor. In
retaliation, the kid tauntingly told him that the reason Max
adopted Ethan was because his dying mother had begged him to take
him in and be his father.
    Which made Ethan a charity case.
    It was hard enough finding out you were
adopted, but you could always tell yourself that your dad wanted
you, wanted a kid, otherwise he wouldn't have done it. Now he
couldn't even believe that. ...
    At first Ethan had tried to deny the charity
thing, but in the end he couldn't put it from his mind, and he was
eventually forced to recognize it as truth. It made perfect sense.
He felt stupid for not seeing it before. He knew Max hadn't known
his mother long, so why else would he have adopted him? Max was the
kind of person who always wanted to do the right thing.
"Duty-bound" was the phrase Ethan had come up with to describe
him.
    But it was hard and depressing knowing his
entire childhood had been a sham. That his past was a rug that had
been pulled out from under him. That all the times they'd spent
together had been done out of duty.
    Max was always telling Ethan that people had
to look out for the less fortunate. Ever since he could remember,
Max had sent money to a girl and boy in Bolivia. Those kids were
adults now, and they still sent Christmas cards and letters, and
Max now had two new children he supported. Ethan had always thought
it was cool of Max until he found out he was just like those kids.
At least they knew they were charity cases. At least with them
there had been no pretending.
    He wanted to talk to somebody about it, but
his buddies didn't talk about that kind of stuff. They would feel
weird and embarrassed, and they wouldn't have any answers anyway.
That's what you realized when you got older. When you were little,
you thought you were just too young to understand the answers and
that when you got older things would come into focus. Then you had
to finally face the truth: There were no answers.
    Ethan swung around just as a coworker spit on
the plain bagel with light cream cheese.
    "What the hell are you doing?" he
whispered.
    "What's it look like? I'm givin' her my House
Special. I hate it when them bitches hold up the line like that.
Like they're the only people wanting to eat."
    Jarod had been working at Bagels, Bagels only
three days, and was a total pain in the ass, one of those rich kids
whose parents made them get a summer job so they wouldn't stay in
bed all day watching MTV and playing video games. He was sour and
rude, and the only time he enjoyed himself was when he was fucking
something up—which was about every two minutes.
    Ethan grabbed the bagel and threw it in the
trash. "Fix another one, and do it right."
    "You talkin' to me? You tellin' me what to
do?" He was also one of those white kids who liked to talk
black.
    "Yeah, I am."
    Jarod dropped his arms to his sides, his
hands clenched, his face red. Everything about him was
confrontational.
    "Come on, man." Ethan gestured toward the
bagel container. "Just make another one." He couldn't believe they
were fighting over a fucking bagel. "It's no big deal."
    Jarod pulled off his green bagel cap and
tossed it on the floor. "Fuck you. Fuck you, man." He stomped
out.
    Wearily, Ethan prepared a new bagel and took
it to the cash register where the woman