Grace Carter's POV
People believe that once one person leaves an argument is over.
They don't.
At times, they start there.
After the shouting, the silence speaks louder than words.
I was aware that Ethan had gone to battle with Victoria.
He hadn't told me.
He didn't have to.
He looked like a man that couldn't put anything down when he got home that evening.
His shoulders were stiff.
He was missing his tie.
His hair, which is always neat and tidy, appeared as though he'd been combing it a hundred times.
When I saw him, he smiled.
It only took a split second.
"Hi."
"Hi."
Then he bent and kissed my forehead, before heading off to his study.
It's now closed with a click.
Not slammed.
Just... closed.
It hurt anyway.
Not because he was rebuffing me.
I knew that he was closing the world off when he did that.
---
It was about 9 p.m. that night when Harper called.
"Is he home?"
"He is."
"How is he?"
I looked at the study door which was shut.
"Quiet."
She sighed.
"That's a scary possibility."
What did he do after he left the restaurant?
There was a long pause.
I don't think it is my story to tell,
"It affects him."
"I know."
Another pause.
"Ask him."
He will not be answering, I don't think!
"He might."
"And if he doesn't?"
Harper's voice softened.
Simply tell him that he's not responsible for all the burdens that he has to bear.
---
It was still quite dark and close to midnight.
I knocked gently.
"Come in."
Ethan is sitting behind his desk and there is no laptop open.
No financial reports.
No contracts.
Just him.
Looking at a photo of the past.
As soon as I came in he turned it down.
I made chamomile tea.
I set the mug next to him.
"Thank you."
I waited.
He didn't pick it up.
Instead, he kept on gazing at nothing.
"Harper called."
I just knew that she would figure it out.
I should consult her, she said.
His jaw tightened.
"Ask what?"
"What happened."
Silence.
I had an argument with my mom.
"I know."
"It wasn't really an argument."
He gave a humorless laugh.
Twenty-five years of silence just at last starting to talk.
---
He rose and headed towards the window overlooking the city.
"At the age of 8…"
He was so soft that I barely heard him.
My father didn't make it to one of my school shows...
I frowned.
"I waited for him."
He smiled sadly.
I continued to gaze at the door.
He put his hand on the glass.
I thought every time it would open, it would be him.
My chest tightened.
"He never came?"
"He arrived."
A pause.
"Three hours later."
I approached him nearer but I didn't say anything.
"I found him sleeping in one of the seats in the auditorium.
He never looked at anything else than the lights of the city.
He took me in the car.
"What happened?"
"He cried."
That surprised me.
"My father?"
He nodded.
That was the only time that I ever saw him cry.
---
He apologized to me.
Ethan swallowed hard.
He has made promises that he would do better.
Almost imperceptibly, his voice cracked.
"And my mother..."
He stopped.
My hand moved to his arm and I touched him softly.
"What did she do?"
"As soon as we reached home…"
He closed his eyes.
"He will never do that again," she said to me.
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
It was because of his emotions that he was weak," she said.
Then he gazed at me.
In his blue eyes he carried years of pain.
"He was at the hospital all afternoon following an accident with his younger brother and that's why he was missing the play," she said.
I blinked.
"He chose family."
"Yes."
"And she thought that was wrong?"
She felt that he ought to have sent someone else.
I stared at him.
He was too much in love.
His belly roared with laughter.
My mom tells me that's his worst characteristic.
---
"That made a difference in him."
Ethan sat down in the chair.
"My dad ceased apologizing."
His hands rubbed each other.
"He ceased hugging me."
"He stopped laughing."
He became softer in his voice.
He was a worker's type of man.
I slowly sat beside him.
"Because of her?"
"It was easier."
He looked exhausted.
She said, "He was a liability when he showed any emotion.
He didn't smile at all.
"So eventually..."
"...he ceased his demonstrations of none."
The room went eerily silent.
"Growing up, I had always believed her to be right.
He gazed at his hands.
I thought that love confuses people.
I felt like a weakness tainted people.
I had always believed that it was never good to be too concerned.
His voice was hardly above a whisper.
So I said to myself, I'm never gonna be my father.
---
I extended my hand to him.
He let me.
I believe that you misunderstood him.
He looked at me.
I believe your father's not destroyed 'cause he loved,
I squeezed his fingers.
I believe he was killed off when he quit.
Ethan's eyes filled with tears.
Not falling.
Just... waiting.
"My entire life I've been avoiding him."
"You aren't."
I have become a different person, not this one.
His shoulders slumped.
A person who discourages others from having an impact.
I smiled sadly.
"And yet..."
So I covered up his soft beating heart.
"...here you are."
He stopped breathing when he heard the small flapping under my belly.
Our baby kicked again.
His eyes widened.
"So, tell me honestly…"
I held his gaze.
"When you feel that..."
"Does it make you weak?
Before he could stop it a tear rolled down his face.
"No."
What are your thoughts on it?
His voice broke.
"Terrified."
I nodded.
"Good."
He frowned.
"Good?"
It means that you have something that you can lose.
---
He laughed uneasily.
"Always I can turn my arguments upside down."
It is one of my good qualities.
"It really is."
This was the first night of the evening...
He smiled.
A real smile.
Small.
Fragile.
Human.
I don't know how to undo thirty years.
"You don't have to do it tonight."
"What if I fail?"
I placed my forehead against his.
Let's try again the next day.
Slowly he wrapped his arms around me as if asking for permission.
I melted into his embrace.
We didn't speak for a while.
Sometimes healing doesn't sound like dramatic speeches.
Sometimes it sounds like two people breathing through old pain together.
As Ethan held me, I realized something.
His mother had spent decades teaching him that love was dangerous.
It would take time to convince him that love could also be the safest place he'd ever know.
And for the first time...
I believed we had enough time