I take out a frozen burrito from the freezer and drop it on a plate. "Sure. What's up?"
"Don't take this the wrong way." He tips back in his chair. "But what is it with Ella? Why are you so fixated on her? You have like a ton of girls falling at your feet all the time and you used to totally be all into it. Then suddenly you weren't and it was all about her."
"I wasn't ever into the girls falling at my feet. I was just bored." I pop the plate into the microwave and press start.
He grabs a handful of chips from a bag on the table. "Okay, but that still doesn't answer my question."
I cross my arms, uncomfortable with the awkward heart-to-heart moment. "I'm not sure, but why do you care?"
"I'm just curious because you've never talked about it."
"Yeah, but we don't talk about a lot of stuff."
He lets the chair legs reconnect to the floor. "Look, I'm not asking you to open up and spill your feelings out to me, so quit being weird. I just want to understand because I've known both of you practically forever."
The microwave beeps and I turn to it. "It was the night of the snowboarding incident. That's when I realized things were different."
"When she broke her arm?" he asks. "And you had to take her to the hospital."
I nod. "You remember how she fell off the roof and then didn't get up right away and certain people were yelling that she was dead."
"Hey, I was drunk," Ethan gripes because he was the one yelling. "And she looked dead to me."
"Well, that's when I knew." I take the burrito out and set it on the counter. "Thinking she was dead was seriously the most terrifying thing that's ever happened to me. More than the idea of my father never returning. More than my own death."
Ethan nods, trying to make sense of my babbling. "Okay..."
I slam the microwave door shut and sit down at the table. "Hey, you asked."
He taps his phone on the table. "What do you think of Lila?"
"She seems nice." I get up and grab a soda from the fridge and then toss one to Ethan. "And she seems to be into you, I guess."
He taps the top of the can, and then flips the tab. "Yeah, but she barely knows me."
Sipping my soda, I sit back down. "Everyone barely knows you."
He shrugs, staring out the window. "I never really understood the point of that whole get-to-know-you thing."
The house phone rings and our conversation ends. I inhale the rest of the burrito as the answer machine beeps.
"Um, hi... this message is for Micha." It's my father's voice.
I freeze, gripping the edge of the table.
"Look, Terri, I understand that he's pissed at me, but I need to talk to him. It's important, okay? And he hung up on me yesterday morning... I thought maybe if you encouraged him to call me?" He sounds frazzled. "I don't know... look, I'm sorry." He hangs up.
I release the table from my death grip, get up, and delete the message from the phone. When I turn around, Ethan is on his feet. The hole that I punched in the wall hasn't been fixed and I think about hammering my fist through it again.
"We should get our shit picked up before it rains," Ethan says, staring at the sky through the window.
I pop my knuckles and walk for the door. "Sounds like a plan."
Ella
I find my dad at the bar. It's the first place I look, but it's disappointing that it was so easy. Lila waits for me in the car, because I ask her to. When I walk in, I spot him slumped over in a barstool with an empty cup in front of him. Denny, the bartender, is wiping down the counters with a rag. When he sees me in the entryway, he holds up his hand.
"You're going to need to show me your ID, before you come in any further." He drapes the cleaning rag over his shoulder and walks around the counter toward me.
"It's me, Denny," I say. "Ella Daniels."
His eyes widen. "Holy shit. You're back."
I nod. "I am, but only for the summer."
He rakes his hands through his curly brown hair. "Where were you anyway? No one really seemed to know."
"In Las Vegas, going to school." I point at my father. "I should probably take him home, I'm guessing."
Denny glances back at my father. "He stumbled in here early this morning. I wasn't even opened up yet, but he was already too drunk to understand when I tried to explain to him that we were closed."
"I'll take him home," I tell him and he lets me by. "I'm sorry he's been so much trouble for you."
He drops the rag on the counter and helps me get my dad to his feet. He smells like he showered in a bottle of Jack Daniels.
"I don't mind him being here, Ella," Denny says. "But I'm starting to feel guilty about it. For the last few months, he's been showing up more and more. I think he might have a problem."
"He's had one for a while." I drape my dad's arm over my shoulder and Denny does the same with his other arm.
My dad mumbles an incoherent objection and then something about missing her and wanting it to all go away. We drag him outside and Lila hops out of the car. She doesn't say anything as Denny and I lie my dad down in the back of the Firebird.
It's starting to sprinkle and lightning snaps across the sky.
"Thanks for helping me get him out," I tell Denny, shielding my eyes from the raindrops.
Denny rubs his neck tensely. "Have you ever considered getting him some help?"
"What do you mean? Like rehab?" I shout over the thunder.
He shrugs. "Or AA. Something that will help him get his life together."
I scratch my head, confused. Why hadn't it occurred to me? Panic starts to claw up my throat and guilty feelings about my mother's death consume.
"Just think about it," Denny says, giving me a pat on the arm. "And if you need any help, you know where to find me."
I thank him again and jump into the car. I wait for Lila to say something, but when she opens her mouth, it's not what I was expecting.
"My older sister was a drug addict," she says quickly. "For like a year."
I stop chewing on my gum. "I didn't know that."
"I know. Not a lot of people do. My family is very firm on keeping our dirty laundry to ourselves." She rotates in her chair to look at my dad snoring on the backseat. "But I wanted to tell you so that you know that I understand how hard it is to watch someone you care about hurt themselves."
I turn the car down my street and the tires splash puddles onto the hood as they hit the potholes. "Why did you never tell me before?"