Page 86 of Switch Pitching

“Tell me about it. I thought America was supposed to bewarm!”

That manages to get a laugh out of Ethan and Anna, which gives me hope that the tension in this house will start to dissipate. Eventually, we all sit down at the small dining table. Things are way less awkward. It’s almost normal. Anna seems nice enough, at least right now. I’m still staying polite and following Ethan’s lead, though, since there’s still some lingering tension in the room.

Anna takes a sip of water before glancing at Ethan. “Word’s been getting around that you’re back visiting.”

Ethan pauses mid-bite. “Huh?”

She nods, smiling a little. “People talk. And you’re kind of a big deal around here.”

Ethan chuckles lightly. “I forgot how fast news travels in Machias.”

“People are proud of you,” Anna says, her voice sincere. “It’s not every day that someone from around here makes it to the big leagues. They still talk about your high school games, you know.”

Ethan looks down at his plate, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t think anyone paid that much attention back then.”

Anna reaches out, resting her hand on the table. “They did. Whenever a college scout showed up, it was all anyone could talk about for days.” She pauses, seemingly thinking over her next words, before her expression firms up.

“Is something wrong?” asks Ethan.

Anna inhales sharply. “The thing about Machias is that when word gets around, itreallygets around.” She lets out her breath before drawing another one in. “Your father knows that you’re here. He called me this morning.”

Ethan’s hand clenches tightly around his fork. He stays calm, though, his face not giving anything away.

Anna braces herself. “He wanted me to ask if you’d talk to him.” Her words hang in the air, and Ethan remains motionless.

He doesn’t say anything, so Anna continues, her voice firmer. “I told him, once again, to get fucked.”

A noisy clatter pierces the air, and I look over to investigate the source. Ethan dropped his fork. “Mom?—”

Anna releases a dry laugh. “I know, I was always uptight about swearing when you were growing up, but your father needed to hear that. Many times over.”

Ethan composes himself and removes the dropped fork from his plate. “I don’t want to see him.”

“I told him that’s what he could expect,” says Anna. “It’s up to you whether you talk to him again.”

For a long time, Ethan doesn’t speak. His eyes are low, but I can see them shift as he thinks.

Without warning, Ethan brings his hands up and rubs his temples frustratedly. His fingers clench, then unclench, and he exhales sharply, his gaze still focused on the table.

“I know a lot of people told him he was wrong,” he mutters.

Anna nods. “It’s true. Within a week, most of our friends weren’t even talking to us, unless it was to say that we messed up.”

Ethan laughs, though it’s clear there’s no humor behind it. “Yeah, I bet everyone had something to say. And still, he doubled down.”

For a minute, I think he’s done talking, but then he speaks again. “What if he needs to hear it from me? I don’t know if it’ll matter to him. I don’t know if I even care.”

Anna’s expression softens, and she nods. “You don’t owe him anything, Ethan. But if it’ll help you, then do it for yourself. Not for him.”

After what feels like ages, Ethan speaks again, his voice flat. “I’ll think about it,” Ethan mutters darkly. “But part of me thought that Dad would just forget about me.”

“This town won’t let him forget, Ethan. Your father still goes to that Lobster Pot bar a couple times a week. The minute you signed with Boston, the owner ordered your poster and stuck it up. It’s right where your father usually sits.”

Despite the immense weight of the whole situation, I snicker as Ethan groans.

“There’s a poster of me in the Lobster Pot?” he asks, incredulous.

Anna chuckles. “There sure is. You should go by and sign it before you leave town.”

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