“He came to the car.”
“And?”
“He asked if you were broken.”
My throat tightened.
“What?”
“He said you weren’t eating.”
“You weren’t laughing.”
“You sometimes sat alone.”
I had forgotten most of those lunches.
Ethan hadn’t.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you weren’t broken.”
Mom wiped her cheek.
“And then Ethan said something I never forgot.”
“What?”
She took my hand.
“He said…”
Her voice cracked.
‘Good. Because I don’t know how to fix people. I only know how to stay.’
I couldn’t speak.
THEN MOM TOLD ME ABOUT THE PROMISE I NEVER KNEW EXISTED
“I was falling apart.”
She looked ashamed.
“Your dad had left.”
“You barely talked to me.”
“And Ethan was the only person who still seemed able to reach you.”
“What did you do?”
“I asked him to promise me something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“To keep looking after you.”
I stared.
“You asked Ethan to take care of me?”
“Yes.”
