hidden | ethma

forty three

all feeling drains my body as i go completely numb. i drop my fork, the metal clanking against the porcelain plate. my throat is dry and i feel like i've just been smacked.  

"what?" i choke out. 

"we've been fighting so often now," my mother says softly. "we just don't think we're right for each other. anymore, at least." 

"how can you do this?" i ask. "how long have you known?" 

"about..." my father sighs. "a month and a half." 

"and you didn't think you should call me and let me know?" i ask shrilly. 

"we were going to, em, i promise but-" 

"that's the reason you wanted me to come home this weekend, right? so you could tell me?" 

my parents avoid my gaze. 

"this is unbelievable!" i shout. "you did this all behind my back!" 

"hurts, doesn't it?" elizabeth's eyes are mean. 

my blood goes cold. "i didn't-" 

elizabeth scoffs, rolling her eyes. she stands from the table and clears her plate, disappearing into the kitchen. 

"i can't believe this." i mumble, throwing my napkin onto the table and standing.  

"where are you going?" my mother asks as i turn to walk away. 

"my room. and i'm locking the door!" i shout behind me.

i feel like a teenager again, not a twenty three year old. i feel entitled to acting this way, though. how could my parents do this? 

i slam the door to my old room and run a hand through my hair. this is unfair, that's what it is. completely and utterly unfair. 

i sink down onto my bed, breathing in the familiar scent of the comforter. i suddenly catch sight of my hand.

ethan's number remains on my palm, neatly written in blue. 

without thinking, i grab my phone and punch the number in. 

he answers on the second ring. 

"hello?" 

"hi, it's emma." my voice comes out strained. 

"em," he says. "you sound upset," 

i disregard his use of my nickname. "i..." i sigh. "my parents are getting a divorce."  

there's a pause, and i picture ethan raising his eyebrows in shock.

"a divorce?"  

"yeah," i say. "and they knew for a whole month and didn't tell me. that's the reason they invited me home, anyway." my voice cracks at the end and i squeeze my eyes shut. 

"emma." the roughness of ethan's voice is transmitted through the speaker and it soothes me slightly. 

"it just pisses me off, you know?" i say, hot tears starting to run down my face. "and then elizabeth..." i shake my head. 

ethan listens patiently. at this moment, i'm so thankful that we're friends and we don't hate each other like we did when we first met. 

"when..." ethan clears his throat. "when my mother died, i didn't find out for six days." 

i fall silent, my pulse quickening. there has only been a few instances when ethan has spoken of his past, and my thirst for information quiets me instantly.

ethan pauses before continuing. "i was crushed," he says softly. "i didn't eat for days, not to mention sleep." 

a lump rises in my throat. "ethan," i breathe.

"it's alright," he says. "it's been four years." he sniffs slightly. "my point is that you'll get past it, you'll move on." 

"why didn't you find out for six days?" i dare to ask. 

ethan is silent for so long i think he might have hung up.

he finally speaks. "my brother." 

i manage to keep my mouth shut and not question him any further.

"oh," i say simply. 

"yeah." 

silence descends once again, and i consider bidding ethan goodbye. but i can't bring myself to do it — i want to talk to him as long as i possibly can. 

"you'll never guess who sat next to me on the plane." 

for the next two hours, ethan and i talk on the phone. at some points we argue, at some we just laugh into the phone, but the subjects of my parents and his mother manage to stay hidden.

when we finally hang up, i feel lighter, and i can't seem to decide the reason why. but i don't mind.