Free Waiting For Ethan by Diane Barnes

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    I’ve just finished eating my pizza and am watching television when my cell phone rings. I was so sure no one would call me tonight that for once, the device is not nearby, and I have to go to the kitchen to retrieve it.
    Ethan’s name, which I happily programmed into the phone after he called on Wednesday, flashes across the screen. I swallow hard and pick up.
    â€œHey,” he says. “There’s something I have to tell you before our date.”
    My heart rate doubles, and I feel my chest getting hot. I pace back and forth in the kitchen, certain that he’s going to tell me he has some kind of sexually transmitted disease.
    â€œI’m married,” he says.
    I feel all the air whooshing out of my body, leaving me deflated. I would have preferred herpes. “I can’t go out with you,” I blurt out. Even as I’m saying it, though, I’m wondering if I can. I have to get off the phone before I change my mind. “Good-b—”
    â€œWait,” he interrupts. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
    I’ve seen enough bad movies to know how this works. “Let me guess,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster. “Your wife’s awful, but you’re staying with her until the children are older.”
    â€œNo.” He makes a sound that’s either a laugh or sob. “She asked for a divorce. We’re separated,” he whispers. “I moved out about a month ago.”
    I’m standing in the middle of the kitchen, and I sink to the floor. “I’m sorry. Really.” I stop speaking. The line is silent for a few seconds. “You should call me again when the divorce is finalized.”
    â€œNo, Gina, please.” He makes the same weird noise again. This time I’m certain it’s a sob. “The only time I’ve laughed or smiled in weeks was the time we were together.”
    I move from the kitchen floor to the couch. I lean over so my head is between my knees. I know it’s not smart to go out with him, but this is Ethan, the guy I’ve been waiting for since age thirteen. The man I’m supposed to marry. I let out a deep breath.
    â€œJack told me not to tell you, but I want to do the right thing. Can’t build a meaningful relationship without honesty,” Ethan mumbles.
    A meaningful relationship, one that leads to marriage. “Who’s Jack?” I ask.
    Ethan tells me Jack is a friend he grew up with who he’s currently living with. He had to move from New Hampshire to Massachusetts because he had no one else to stay with.
    I ask him how long he was married. He answers seventeen years. “I came home from work one night, and Leah, that’s my wife, was waiting by the door with her suitcase. She said she didn’t want to be married anymore. I never saw it coming.”
    I learn he met Leah the first day of high school and proposed on graduation day. Neither of them went to college. They don’t have any children, but they do have a dog, a golden retriever named Brady that Leah kept. “I miss the dog more than I miss my wife,” Ethan says.
    We talk for nearly three hours. “I should let you go now,” Ethan finally says. “Can I still see you tomorrow?”
    I clutch the phone tightly. He’s not married, I tell myself. He’s separated. It’s not like I’m breaking up a marriage; it’s already broken. If he decides he wants to fix it, I’ll encourage him to do so. I imagine myself teary-eyed as I tell him I’m happy he’s working things out with Leah. I swallow hard, thinking about the devastation I would feel. Is it worth the risk? Of course it is. His name is Ethan.
    â€œLooking forward to it,” I say, hoping it sounds believable after my long pause.

Chapter 11
    A t five thirty on Saturday, I hear the crackling of snow and ice on the driveway. I look out the window and see Ethan’s Jeep.