Bullet(15)

The silence returned. Ethan’s eyes eventually returned to normal, with only a mild look of anger dwelling in them. What had his father done to June that made Ethan so overprotective of her? I wanted to ask, but I wasn’t about to push it. Ethan had already bared his heart for me and it made me love him more.

I fell asleep in his arms again that night, right there on his bed, surprised that neither his mom nor Jason separated us. Nothing happened, but I felt like I was the comfort Ethan had needed on that cold, dark night.





Chapter Seven

Present



MY SECOND TRIMESTER was rough. Ethan was on the road with the band while I was left at home. My doctor had told me I could travel, but I knew the road was stressful. That wouldn’t be the right place to be pregnant. So I did what I imagined most expectant moms did—I went shopping. I bought baby clothes, bottles, a crib, blankets, and every little thing the expecting your first baby books recommended. I bought neutral baby clothes, because—unlike all other women I knew—I wanted the baby’s sex to be a surprise. I didn’t want to know what I was having until he or she entered the world.

Ethan and I were on Skype several nights a week. He wanted to keep up to date with the baby’s progress. And it gave me hope. If Ethan was going to fall off the wagon anywhere, it would be on the road. But he was fine. He was sober every time we talked—alert and happy.

With his blessing, I converted one of our spare bedrooms into a nursery. I found a local artist who painted the room in rainbows, birds, chipmunks, and fun little forest scenes. That room was so heartwarming, and it made me even more eager to hold my baby in my arms. I’d stand over the crib for minutes at a time, imagining our little baby sleeping in that bed, his little haven from the cold world.

Ethan asked me what it was like when the baby kicked. I wished he could be there to feel it. It was so weird at first, feeling one of the baby’s limbs poking out of my belly. Ethan promised to be home before I gave birth, and I hoped he’d be able to feel the baby’s movements. I was so afraid he wouldn’t get home until it was time to give birth.

But he got back in time. He got arrived home weeks before my due date, and then he got to experience all that he’d been missing. We’d be watching TV, and I’d grab his hand when I felt the baby moving, pressing it on my tummy where I’d felt the movement. He’d get an expression of joy and awe every time he felt the baby move. And we got in our natural childbirth classes, just in the nick of time.

As my due date approached, he stayed with me day and night. He might have had an antiquated idea of what pregnant women should and shouldn’t do, but I was enjoying being pampered a little bit. I couldn’t remember the last time (if ever) I’d been doted on like that. Granted, I’d still do a few things when he wasn’t around, but overall he let me do no housework, although both my obstetrician and I assured him it would be all right. I took walks in the afternoon and slept more than I usually did, because I’d been told sleep would be a rare commodity once the baby came along. But I was bored out of my mind. We even had the band over once a week for barbecues and just hanging out. I did a lot of reading and catching up on TV series I’d missed over the last few years. But nothing was satisfying enough. I wanted the baby here.

Early one morning around two o’clock, I woke up. I realized I was cramping. I just lay there, unable to sleep, but I suspected something was going on. A while later, my belly tightened. Yes…it was a contraction, all right, but was it the real deal? Less than ten minutes later, I had another one, and that’s when I touched Ethan’s shoulder and asked him to get up.

He was tired and groggy at first, but then it registered with him. I knew what to do, because I’d been studying it for months. I had him use his cell phone’s stopwatch feature, and I had him time my contractions and the time between, and after half an hour, if the pain hadn’t become more intense and convinced me to go to the hospital, the time between contractions would have. I looked at Ethan. “It’s time to go.”

He tried to look excited, but I could see the worry in his eyes. He grabbed my prepared bag from the closet by the front door and then helped me up from the couch. I rubbed my belly, eager because I knew I’d finally see our baby soon.





Chapter Eight

Past



FINALS WEEK WAS an intense whirl, but I made it through. Between having a good chunk of that Sunday to study as well as a quiet empty dorm room, I felt prepared.

Before I knew it, though, finals were over, and I was at home, caught up in the spirit of Christmas, probably my favorite time of year. Ethan and I hadn’t talked much that week, and I felt almost like maybe I’d done something to cause his sudden coldness. But he said he had finals to worry about and, even though we’d spent some time together studying for our history exam, there was a definite coolness in the way he treated me.

Had I been older and wiser, I might have just written him off, but even now I wonder if that’s true. I cared deeply for Ethan and worried about his well being. I wanted him to be happy and satisfied. I would have planned on never seeing him again, except the day I was ready to leave for home, he brought me a small present.

“Open it.”

I smiled and looked at him. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh, hell, Val. Christmas is about giving, not getting. Just open the goddamned present.”

My eyes grew wide. “Well, when you put it that way…” It was a small gold foil box, and I remembered a time when my mother had bought me a necklace that fit in a box that size. Could it be jewelry? I unwrapped the pretty red ribbon tied around it. The gift surprised me, all right, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It was a CD, and Ethan had even made cover art for it. It was a picture of the four of them standing on a dirt road somewhere. Whoever had taken the picture had understood rock band poses, because it looked professional. But the artwork on it had been more recent, because the name on it was Fully Automatic, not Bullet. I knew Ethan had a pretty powerful computer in his dorm room with a slick printer, and after talking to his mother, I figured Ethan’s grandpa had purchased it for him for college, not knowing that his grandson used it to mix music more than to write essays. But what did I know? Maybe his grandpa did know.

But as I looked at that gift, I felt my heart swell up with newfound emotion for the young man in front of me. He’d trusted me enough to let me into his world, and now he was sharing it with me on a whole new level. He’d been around me enough by this point to know that I listened to the music I liked over and over and over, and that’s how it either grew on me or I would decide it wasn’t my thing. It was a visceral response to music, but I had never discovered a way to be intellectual about it. Either I loved it at the most basic level of who I was or I didn’t. And I already liked their music. I felt overwhelmed when I realized first how much trust he had in me to give himself and his art to me that freely, and then it hit me that he had that much confidence in himself and his band.

I loved that confidence. That was part of what continually drew me to Ethan.

So, when my lips had turned up into a smile and I’d gushed a thank you, Ethan pulled me into a tight embrace and kissed me on the cheek. “Have a nice Christmas, Val.” I’m not sure what idiotic thing I said after that, but the kiss made me feel loopy the rest of the day until my dad arrived to pick me up later that afternoon.

It was weird how much I’d changed and how much the world around me at home had too. It had only been a few months since I’d left for school, but things were different. I met up a couple of times with my old friend Jill, and I just didn’t feel as close to her. We were worlds apart now, even though we’d chatted on Facebook once or twice and texted off and on over the semester. We were now different people…adults, maybe? And then I realized that maybe Ethan really was my best friend now, for all intents and purposes.

And over Christmas break, I talked about him…a lot. So much so that my mother insisted on meeting him. After all, she said, if he was my friend, the family should meet him. I promised her she would soon. How, I didn’t know.

And then my little brother…he was in a steady relationship with a girl named Marcy, a cheerleader at my old high school. My brother had never been serious about anyone before, so I was a little shocked. Ha! I thought. Take that, Charlotte.

But Christmas break was soon over, and I was back at college. It felt strange returning there too, and looking back, I think I was having a bit of an identity crisis and just didn’t know it. I didn’t really fit anywhere anymore. College didn’t feel right; home didn’t feel right. And that Sunday when I returned, the day before classes, I felt out of sorts. I considered tracking Ethan down and then decided against it. I didn’t want to seem desperate. So instead I put his CD in my laptop and played it. I hadn’t had as many opportunities to listen to it over break as I had wanted to, so now would be a good time to listen. After hearing the CD multiple times, I was able to start distinguishing different elements between Ethan and Brad’s songs. I was pretty sure they sang the songs they wrote. They both had good voices, no matter what self-deprecating thing Brad had said about their singing.