Ethan turns to me, his eyes confused and anxious. “Are Ivy and I still going out?”
“Maybe not romantically? But you can still do stuff as friends.”
“Like Chloe and David,” Ivy says. “Chloe has a boyfriend, but she still talks to David. Except she doesn’t have a boyfriend anymore. They broke up.”
“Why?” Ethan asks.
“Sometimes things don’t work out,” I say. “Even when two people like each other.” I’m trying to make a point here.
“I’m not Ivy’s boyfriend anymore?” he says, his voice high and strained.
“Just my friend,” Ivy says.
Ethan starts rocking faster. “Diana’s not very nice. She always tells me I talk too much.”
“You do,” Ivy says.
“No, he doesn’t!” I say. “You’re great company, Ethan.”
“I wish you didn’t like Diana more than me,” he says to Ivy.
“It’s probably because I’m gay.”
“You guys can totally stay friends,” I say. “That’s even better—?I mean, boyfriends and girlfriends break up all the time, but friends can stay friends forever, right?” I can feel sweat tickling under my armpits and beading at my temples. I’m so stressed right now.
“Are you and James going to stay friends?” Ivy asks me.
“Definitely.”
“Then I guess we can too,” she tells Ethan.
“Can I go to the bathroom?” he asks.
It’s kind of a relief when he leaves the room.
“You could have been nicer to him,” I hiss at Ivy as soon as he’s out of earshot.
“Why wasn’t I nice?”
“You kept talking about how much more you like Diana. That probably hurt his feelings.”
“Really? But it’s just true.” She crunches some more popcorn and turns on her iPad.
I look at my phone. Sarah just texted me.
did you and James really break up??
yeah—?after you told him I was acting weird i didn’t say that
He said you did, more or less
Are you seriously blaming me for your break up?
Am I blaming her? I stop to think about it. She was a little too quick to agree with James that I was being a bad girlfriend, a little too eager to commiserate with him—?at least according to what he told me. She could have stuck up for me more. But would that really have changed anything? We were doomed anyway.
So I write: sorry just upset and taking it out on you
that’s ok. i get it.
and just so you know, I totally defended you Ivy says, “Are you mad at me?”
I look up. “What? Why?”
“You just looked a little annoyed about something.”
“It’s not because of you. I got a text.”
“Who from?”
“Sarah.”
“Are you mad at her?”
“Not really.”
It’s way too much work to try to untangle the different emotions I’m feeling right now so I can describe them all to Ivy. Like . . . I’m pretty sure Sarah didn’t really defend me to James, but I’ll never know for sure, and maybe it doesn’t matter, anyway. So I feel mildly betrayed but not actually upset—?and that’s not really something I can decipher for Ivy. Right and wrong, she can get. Good guy, bad guy, truth, lies—?those I can explain to her. But this is all too complicated, too messy, too unclear. She’ll want to know if she should be mad at Sarah or not. And it’s just not that simple.
My phone vibrates. I look at it. Sarah again.
now that you’re free . . . anyone else interesting to you?
it’s been like five minutes!
i just thought
I wait and then finally text what?
nothing
The word just lies there. She doesn’t write any more, and I don’t want to ask her again.
I check my Instagram feed and then decide I need a snack. I’m tense and bored—?prime grazing conditions.
I search through the refrigerator and pantry and, as usual since Ron moved in, don’t find anything satisfactory in the junk food department (even the popcorn Ivy’s been eating is some super health food low-fat, low-salt kind that’s not worth wasting my time on). I’m about to wander back to the table empty-handed when the doorbell rings, so I head into the hallway instead.
It’s David. He doesn’t greet me, just says, “Ethan didn’t answer my last couple of texts. I wanted to make sure he’s okay.”
“He’s fine.” I gesture inside. “Come in.”
He hesitates a moment, glancing down the walkway at his car like he just wants to go back there, but then he steps inside the foyer. “How’d he take the news?”
“Fine.” I lead him down the hall. “I mean, he wasn’t thrilled, but I think he’s okay.”
We walk into the kitchen. David says, “Hey, Ivy. Where’s Ethan?”
Ivy looks up from her iPad. “He went to the bathroom. It takes him a long time.”
“Not always.”
There’s a pause. David’s got his hands jammed into his pockets, and he’s not meeting my eyes.
“Do you want something to eat or drink?” I ask.
“I’m okay.” He checks his watch, then leans back against the counter.
“I’m gay,” Ivy tells him.
“So I’ve heard.”
Her mouth curves down at the corners. “Are you mad at me?”
“No, of course not,” he says impatiently. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“Then are you mad at Chloe?”
A slight pause. “No.”
“You seem mad,” she says. “For some reason, people always seem mad when I say I’m gay and then they say they’re not mad.”
“I promise I’m not mad at you, Ivy.”
“Ivy’s right,” I say. “You do seem mad.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Maybe if you said that less angrily?” I suggest.
He shoots me a look, then checks his watch again. “I’m going to see what’s taking Ethan so long. Where’s the bathroom?”
“This way.” I lead him out of the kitchen and down the hallway. “Are you going to admit you’re acting strange?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Then he says slowly, “I’m just a little bummed, I guess.”
“For Ethan?”
“Yeah. For me too.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s been nice. Hanging out with you and Ivy. It’s pathetic, but it’s probably the most social I’ve been in years.”