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Chapter Seven - Between Situations


We were sitting in the Jeep, idling at the gate on the Harpeth access road, the heater blasting. “So where do you actually live, Ethan?” Lauren asked, rubbing her hands together.

He stared down at his lap, “I’m, uh, between situations right now,” he said.

Lauren looked at me.

“What’s that mean? Between situations?” I asked.

Ethan picked at a loose string on the knee of his jeans. “Look, it ain’t a big deal, really, okay? I’m just not particularly staying anywhere right now.”

“Where are your parents?” Lauren asked.

He sighed, then shrugged.

“You don’t know?” Lauren’s voice pitched with worry.

“Not really, no.”

“How do you not know that?” I asked.

“Because, my mom’s gone and my father’s in a program right now. The house got taken by the state, like a foreclosure thing, and I didn’t feel like getting shuffled around in the system so I took off. I stayed with a buddy for a bit, but his ma finally gave me the boot and I’ve been staying in the old grain mill on Liberty. The back door to the thing’s busted and I got a sleeping bag I keep in the back of a closet there during the day.” He sighed, “I’m fine, really. The money Mr. Carver’s been paying me at the tree lot’s been enough for food and it ain’t all that cold in the mill.”

I looked at Lauren.

Ethan’s eyes traveled nervously between her and I. “Look, please, don’t report me. You guys seem cool and stuff and I really do got this under control. I don’t wanna end up in the stupid foster system or whatever. My dad’s gonna be out of the program eventually and he’ll get us an apartment or something. I’ll be okay. I just gotta wait it out. Probably only until Christmas. I’m sure he’ll be out by Christmas.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow at me.

The look was an entire conversation. It was all we took to know we’d had the same thought, and that we agreed. “You can stay with us,” I said.

Ethan looked hesitant, I could tell he was trying to figure out a way to talk us out of it. “I really am okay,” he said. “Just… drop me off at the grain mill. Seriously. I have everything I need there.”

Lauren shook her head, “It’s too cold for you to be sleeping in an abandoned grain mill,” she argued. “You either come stay with us, at least for the night, or we’ll have to call the police so they can help you.”

Ethan still didn’t look particularly comfortable with the suggestion, but it was clear that between us and the police department, he rathered go with us, so finally he shrugged and said, “Okay, I guess.”

“Okay.” Lauren looked relieved, “Good. That’s settled then.”

“Do you need to stop by the mill to pick anything up?” I asked.

“I got everything I own with me, ‘cept the sleeping bag,” Ethan replied, patting his messenger bag.

“Okay then,” I said. All I could think was that there was no way he had much in that bag. Probably not even extra clothes. The bag wasn’t all that big to start with and it didn’t particularly look very full, either.

As I started driving home, Lauren asked, “So you said your father’s in a program,” she said, “What sort of program?”

“He’s at Cumberland Heights,” Ethan replied.

Cumberland Heights. I knew of them. I knew a little too much of them, actually. When I’d first moved to Tennessee, it’d been to rehab myself from my LA lifestyle and escape the drugs and alcohol that I’d become so strongly addicted to. Cumberland Heights was the place that some of the meetings I’d attended, very irregularly might I add, had been held. It was up on the west side of the city, tucked away in a mostly rural area only just barely in the Nashville metropolitan district. It was the kind of place that I probably should’ve actually spent a month or two myself, to be honest. If Ethan’s dad was at Cumberland then he had a pretty serious addiction.

I glanced at Lauren. She reached over and curled her hand into mine. She knew the significance for me and she squeezed my fingers, a silent reminder that the past was the past and she was there for me.

“And he’ll be out by Christmas?” she asked conversationally.

Ethan nodded, “Should be pretty soon. Maybe a week or two.”

“Well that’s good, he’ll be home for the holidays,” Lauren said.

“Yeah, should be great,” Ethan said, though he said it more in words than feeling.

As we pulled up to the community Lauren and I live in, Ethan fell silent, staring out the window with wide eyes at the brilliant Christmas displays that my peacocking neighbors had erected on their lawns and up their houses. The lights glowed in the dark with that romantic, magic sort of air that Christmas lights throw off. “Holy shit,” Ethan mumbled as he looked around, “You weren’t kidding about being one of them Backstreet guys, were you? This place has got the Benjamins.”

Lauren’s eyes twinkled with amusement at this.

“Course I ain’t kidding!” I said, “Why would I be kidding?”

Ethan shrugged, “I just thought that the Backstreet Boys were like, old guys by now. I mean my mom liked Backstreet Boys. She listened to Backstreet Boys when I was a baby. You don’t look old enough to have been working when I was a baby is all.”

“I was younger than you are now when I started is why,” I replied as I navigated through the streets to the house.

“Shit, no kidding?” he asked.

“No kidding.”

I pulled up to the house and he looked out the other window at the lights Lauren and I had hung up which, compared to some of our neighbors’ displays, looked pretty pathetic. I made a mental note to hire professional lighting people come do the house next year. Or this year when Lauren wasn’t looking, even.

Ethan stared up at the house as we all climbed out of the car and made our way up to the porch. Inside, Nacho and Igby were waiting. Nacho jumping excitedly to see Ethan, who rubbed Nacho’s rolly-polly neck wrinkles with a laugh. “Wow,” Lauren commented, watching as Ethan knelt on the floor for better access to Nacho as he rolled onto his back, legs sprawled wide open. “He never gets friendly with strangers,” she commented. “Especially not one that’s so close to Nick. He’s really protective. But he seems to like you.” She smiled.

Ethan shrugged, “I dunno why, but animals and I have always had a good relationship.”

I tossed my keys into the bowl on the table in the foyer and carried the Wal-Mart bag into the living room and dumped the lights onto the big easy chair by the tree. I started pulling the old, non-functional lights off the tree.

“Are you hungry?” I heard Lauren asking Ethan.

“Yeah,” he answered, “I could go for some food.”

“You mind Thanksgiving leftovers?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Ethan said, his voice excited.

“Nick -- you want Thanksgiving leftovers?”

“Yes,” I called back.

“Why don’t you head into the living room with Nick and I’ll get the food. Do you like squash, cranberry?”

“Anything is great,” Ethan answered her as Lauren waved him into the living room. Nacho followed Ethan and Igby followed Lo as she disappeared off to the kitchen. Ethan walked into the living room, kind of hanging back by the doorway, watching as I fought with the Christmas tree to surrender the broken lights I’d administered to it earlier. “Aren’t you supposed to be putting those things on?” he asked.

“They’re broken. I put’em on before I knew. We went and got new ones.” The strand got caught up on a branch and I shook it free, sending little pine needles everywhere.

Nacho ran around my feet, jumping up at the branches as they wiggled every time I moved the tree.

When I’d gotten all the lights off, I tossed them into a big pile of needles and bulbs and grabbed the first box of new lights out of the Wal-Mart bag. I waved the box at Ethan, “You wanna help?” I asked.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah, why not?”

He shrugged, “Just thought that the tree lights were kind of the man of the house sort of job is all,” he said. “My dad wouldn’t let anyone else touch the tree lights.”

I held out the strand to him and Ethan came over and took it, holding it across his palms like it was a snake. “See you just drape it kinda,” I said, flopping the rest of my cord over the branches, walking around the tree to the window. I grabbed the end of his and plugged it into the end of mine. “Here, if you wanna flop over there then hand me the rest, we’ll pass it around the tree, make it easier.”

Ethan started carefully arranging the strand over the branches, then handed me the fistful of bundled lights at the end. He looked pretty proud of himself.

“So your old man usually does the lights, huh?” I asked conversationally.

“Yeah. When we had Christmas anyway. It’s been awhile.” Ethan took the bundle from the other side of the tree and started arranging the way the strand fell again.

“You haven’t celebrated Christmas?” I asked, “Why?”

He shrugged, “It was more my mom’s thing than dad’s I guess. He’s not much into the holidays. Other than the Fourth of July, but I think it’s more the barbeque and the beers he likes.” Ethan handed me the bundle.

“So your dad drinks a lot, huh?” I asked.

“To say my dad drinks a lot is like saying fish kinda like to swim,” Ethan answered.

I concentrated on the lights for a moment. His dad sounded like an asshole, I thought.

“He never used to, when I was real little, I mean. Really only since my mom left.”

“She left?”

“Yep. Left.”

I handed Ethan the lights on the opposite side. “Where’d she go?”

“Who knows,” Ethan shrugged, “Alls I know is she didn’t take us with her.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“No.”

“Just you and your dad, huh?”

“Well. Just me now.” He handed the strings back to me. We were almost to the bottom of the tree now. “I mean ‘til he gets out of Cumberland Heights and whatever.”

Lauren came in the room at that moment, which was probably good ‘cos I had a feeling Ethan didn’t wanna answer any more questions and I had about a hundred million. “Nick, are you making him work? Poor kid. Here’s your food, honey.” She put it down on the coffee table.

“I wanted to help,” Ethan said.

“Well, come eat,” Lauren said.

“I got it from here,” I told him. “Only like two more loops anyways.” Ethan eagerly handed me the remaining lights and went for the food. I had a feeling he hadn’t eaten much since the stolen Sbarro, and God knows that place only just barely counts as food anyways.

Lauren sat down, watching me circle the tree and Ethan scarf down leftovers like they were going out of style. When I finished putting the lights on the branches, I plugged the end in and they all lit up, making the tree glow like magic. Ethan grinned around a mouthful of gravy soaked dinner roll, looking up at it like a little kid would.

“Ethan said he hasn’t had a Christmas tree in awhile,” I told Lauren.

Lauren smiled, “I’m glad you’re here to help with ours, then.”

Ethan smiled as he shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Do you want seconds?” Lauren asked, seeing Ethan’s plate was already almost gone. He nodded eagerly and she smiled, “One second.” She took his plate and walked out of the room, back to the kitchen, as Ethan sucked the flavor of the turkey and rolls off his fingertips.

“She’s a really good cook,” Ethan commented.

I smirked, and said loudly enough I knew she’d overhear it, “You ain’t here on tofu and spinach day, that’s why.”

Ethan laughed. “Even tofu and spinach sounds good to me. I mean I ain’t really got a kitchen or nothin’ in the grain mill. If I never see another Big Mac again in my life I’d be okay with it.”

“You say that now but give it six and a half years and you’ll miss them. Trust me.” I nodded. “That’s about how long it’s been since Lo let me get one.”

Ethan smiled, “I dunno. You ever have a Big Mac every day of the week?”

“Yeah, when I first went on tour with Backstreet back in the 90s,” I answered. “Then we did a commercial for Burger King and it was a Whopper everyday for like a whole summer.” I paused. “I weighed like a thousand pounds by the time it was over.”

“So you really have been in a band longer than I’ve been alive?” he asked, interest in his eyes.

Lauren came back with his plate as he was asking.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Pretty crazy. You’re an awful big person for that to be true about, but it is what it is. Started in 1993.”

“Wow. I was born in 1999. In October.” Ethan eagerly jumped back into eating with a grin at Lauren, “Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, and she sat on the arm of the chair I was in. “That’s the year Never Gone came out, right baby?” Lauren asked.

“Millennium,” I corrected her. Even after all these years, she still couldn’t remember anything about my career. I still had problems believing she didn’t know this stuff. I mean, what rock was she under in the 90s?

Ethan nodded, “I think my mom had that one. Tell me why, ain’t nothin’ but a heartache, tell me why, ain’t nothin’ but a mistake, tell me why, I never wanna hear you say… I want it that way,” he sang out. His voice was deep, kind of countryish, and warbly. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t get-this-kid-a-record-deal-great, either.

“Hey, you do know me!” I laughed.

“Guess I do,” he agreed.

When he’d finished his second plate of food, Lauren got the ornaments out of the box and we turned on John Denver and the Muppets and decorated the tree, which mostly consisted of Ethan putting up ornaments while I threw them at the tree to see if they’d stay and Lauren fixed them in my wake. After the tree was finished, we turned on the TV and watched the sports and news highlights and a couple episodes of The Walking Dead, which Ethan had never seen so we started from the first episode. He started falling asleep after a bit, though he was obviously fighting it, and Lauren snuck upstairs to change the sheets in the guest bedroom. Once it was ready, I nudged Ethan’s foot to wake him up. “Hey bud,” I said quietly, “You look pretty tired, c’mon, I’ll show you the spare room.”

Ethan followed me up the stairs to the guest room. He stared at the bed with a hunger not entirely unlike that which he gave the food before.

“You get some sleep,” I said.

He nodded, started toward the bed, then paused. “Hey, uh, thanks,” he said shyly.

“Night Ethan,” I said, and I pulled the door closed behind me. The second the door was closed, I heard the springs on the mattress squeak and a muffled sound of exhilaration.