Page 35 of Mostly My Boss
“Seriously?” I asked him.
“My father doesn’t like not getting his way. So to getmyway I’ve had to develop methods of getting around him. Bribery can be very effective.”
We were sitting on the king-sized bed in his big bedroom, in his parents’ large Upper East Side apartment (I now understood that Upper East Side was code formoney) and I thought maybe he had it way worse than I did. My family was difficult on their best day but they were loving and supportive. At least, John was when he was sober.
No one could accuse Ethan’s mom of not being loving, but it was tainted with a hint of what felt like obsession. And his father…it felt like Ethan was a disappointment to him but I didn’t see how that could be. Ethan was a freaking genius.
“Six different medications?” I asked.
“For mood alteration. You see, growing up I had some…anger issues. The meds were to keep me focused, keep me calm, keep me from being suicidal. Which is ridiculous when you think about it. I’m someone who practically lives for the future—in what warped reality would I chose to end my life before the good stuff happens?”
For a second I wondered if I really knew Ethan, or if I only knew what he showed me. Then I shook my head and thought no one was that good an actor. But I had a better sense of where his restlessness came from.
“You didn’t tell them why I couldn’t go home,” I said.
“Because I still think the money is a lie you’re telling yourself, but regardless they wouldn’t have understood. Not really. They don’t see things outside of their perfectly ordered world.”
“Did you bring me, the poor farm girl, to Christmas to piss them off? Was your mom actually happy that we weren’t dating?”
“Please.” He laughed. “You saw how completely unmoved they were by your story. Father dead of a heart attack, mother and brothers struggling to keep the small farm going. Booriiiinnnng.”
“Yes, but I’m acceptable now because I got into Harvard. Your father said so.”
Ethan laughed. “If I really wanted to piss them off I would have brought that girl I fucked last week. The one with piercings I told you about.”
There were seven of them. “Please let’s not recount. Did you have any freedom growing up?”
“My father’s younger brother is a drummer in a band. He used to spring me in the summers when he could. Other than that, I was so damn medicated all the time, it’s not like I knew any different. For both of my parents perfection is a thing. It’s something they each strive for in their own way. I came along and I was nothing but a messy imperfection. They had to find a way to control that because it’s not like they could give me back.”
“Uh, yeah, you’re their kid.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not. I was adopted. My biological mother was a drug addict so they knew they were taking a chance with me, but white male babies are hard to come by so…”
I frowned then. “Hey, don’t think you can out-sad-sack me. Poor farm girl from Iowa with the dead father, the helpless mother, and the drunk older brother.”
“Rigid, smothering adoptive parents who medicated me into oblivion.”
“Yes, but look at this GINORMOUS bed!”
We laughed and I rested my head against his shoulder. “Hey, you want your Christmas present now?”
“You got me a present?” It was sad how excited he seemed by the prospect.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got this sweet gig where I get paid for sharing the notes I would have taken anyway. It’s nothing serious or anything. I just saw it and thought of you. Wait here.”
“Hello—how often do you think I leave this room when I’m here? Be careful if you go out there, too. My mother might try to feed you again and my father might try to prescribe you something.”
I nearly groaned in pain. “Good point.”
I left his room and made my way quietly down the hallway to the guest bedroom where I was staying. I cracked open the door like I was breaking into a bank. I really did not want to be caught by anyone, if for no other reason than I didn’t want them to ask ifJulieneeded anything else to be comfortable.
I meant what I’ said to Ethan, they weren’t bad parents. They obviously cared about him, it was just that everything here felt… forced. Like they were all playing this role of family by studying their parts really, really well.
I got the box I’d wrapped, tiptoed back down the hallway, and snuck back into his room, letting out a soft whoosh of air that I’d been successful in my stealth.
Climbing back up onto the bed, I handed the gift to him.
He looked at the red wrapping and the bow and frowned. “I got you something, but I didn’t bring it with me. I wasn’t sure…I didn’t know if we were doing this and I didn’t want you to be embarrassed if you didn’t get me anything.”
