Tell Me Three Things(75)

SN is Liam. Liam is SN. A simple equation. Remedial math. Time to accept it.

“Hey,” Ethan says, and there is pleading in his eyes. He’s saying those six words without saying those six words. And so I don’t answer Liam—not yet, anyway—and I turn to Ethan. Buy time another way.

“Hey,” I say. Then I’m sure I have this all wrong, that I’m actually dreaming, because all of a sudden Caleb is here too, right behind Ethan, and of course all three of them would be here for the great SN unveiling. This is a dream. It has to be, because the three of them can’t be SN, and I’ve had dreams like this before, when they’re all there—Liam, Ethan, Caleb—morphing into each other, swapping shirts.

But no, Caleb is in gray. Ethan is the Batman. And Liam is wearing a button-down, because unlike his friends, he rotates his wardrobe. One point for Liam there.

If this is a dream, next they will break out into song. Serenade me with “The Girl No One Knows.”

No one is singing.

This is not a dream.

I dig my fingernails into my palms, just to be sure. It hurts.

“Howdy,” Caleb says, and looks from Liam to me and back to Liam and smiles, as if to say Go for it, dude. Do he and Ethan both know that SN is Liam, and they’re here to see what happens? Or maybe they’re all in on it, have shared the SN password and taken turns writing to me. Has this whole thing been one big joke? Is that the lie? There are three of them?

I flash back to my dad’s offer to take us home to Chicago, wonder if that’s where this is all headed. Me, on a plane, humiliated and heartbroken.

“Wait,” Ethan says, and takes a step forward and then one backward. It’s an awkward dance, and his face reddens. “You’re early.”

“Dude, we’re in the middle of something here,” Liam says, and looks at me again, as if to re-ask his question. Right. Dinner. If I weren’t so disappointed, it would be cute, SN starting our first conversation by asking me out on a proper date.

“Liam,” Ethan says, and puts his hand on Liam’s shoulder. Liam shakes it off angrily. I am so stupid. It’s obvious these two have a problem with each other. There was drama there for a while, Dri said once. Liam replaced Ethan’s brother in the band.

I think you should say no.

I’ve taken it all the wrong way: those six words had nothing to do with Ethan wanting me. He just hates Liam. The realization is crushing.

“Why are you always throwing shade?” Liam stands up to face Ethan. Months, perhaps years, of pent-up aggression are spewing forth, and I’m unfortunate enough to get caught in the middle.

Liam’s hands are curled into fists, as if he is ready to throw punches right in the middle of IHOP, which is of course a dumb place to fight. There are children here, and polyester booths and smiley-face pancakes. Multiple kinds of syrup. Some of the drinks even come with maraschino cherries.

Caleb steps between Liam and Ethan, and Ethan puts his hands in the air. He has no interest in swinging or being swung at. Maybe he has no interest in me.

“You’ve got it all wrong, man. It’s not like that,” Ethan says, puts his hands down and into his pocket. He pulls out his phone. “Just give me one second.”

Ethan’s eyes are on me, not on Liam, and he’s talking to me without talking to me. I don’t know what he’s saying. I just know I want to keep staring at him. Again, everything is too fast for me to understand, and also too slow, because I can hear the thump of my heart and the blood rushing in my ears, can feel the warmth of the coffee cup in my trembling hands.

My phone beeps. I have a message. I look down. I pick it up.



SN: it’s me.



I look up again. Ethan is smiling nervously at me. He’s typing without looking.



SN: me. not him. me.

SN: let me say this in caps: ME.



“You?” I ask, out loud, without hands, the words right where I need them. Finally, finally, realization dawning. My eyes are locked with Ethan’s. I can’t help it; I’m grinning. “For real. It’s you?”

“Me,” Ethan says, and holds up his phone. “You were early. We had an Oville meeting in the back that ran too long, and then he got to you first.”

I look at Liam, who is rocking on his heels, confused and still angry. Watching our conversation but not getting it at all. How could he? I barely understand.

Ethan is Ethan is Ethan.

Ethan is SN.

“Liam, I’m sorry. I can’t. I mean, it’s Ethan. It’s him,” I say, which makes no sense at all, but it doesn’t seem to matter, because now Ethan is sitting down across from me in the booth. And we are smiling at each other, goofy and giddy, and it’s easy, so much easier than it should be.

Liam looks more confused than upset. Caleb shrugs and then rolls his eyes toward the door, as if to say Give it up, man. She’s not worth it.

“Whatever,” Liam says, taking Caleb’s cue, the words casually thrown over his shoulder as he walks out the door. Caleb shakes his phone at me and Ethan, apparently his generic goodbye, as he runs to catch up with Liam.

“You?” I ask Ethan again, because I need it to be said one last time. To be sure that I’m not just jumping to conclusions and that I’m not dreaming.

“It’s nice to meet you again, Jessie, Jessie Holmes. I’m the weirdo who has been messaging you.” Ethan looks nervous, a question in his eyes. “Today so didn’t go the way I meant it to.”