Boys, Bears, and a Serious Pair of Hiking Boots(59)
Author: Abby McDonald

“Ethan?” I call, nervous. Part of me still wonders if something’s lurking in the trees, but I clear my throat and call again, louder. “It’s me. Jenna.”

There’s no reply, but as I edge farther into the open, I see a hunched figure, far down the shore. I hurry toward him.

“Ethan?” I call again, panicked. He’s sitting in the lake, legs stretched in front of him. Water gently laps around him, soaking his jeans and the bottom of his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “What are you doing?” I kick off my sandals and wade out. It’s ice-cold, pebbles sharp against my skin. “Ethan, you’re getting soaked.”

He stays there, staring out at the dark.

“Ethan, come on back to shore at least.” I shiver, placing one hand gently on his shoulder. He turns his head a little, like he’s only just noticed me. “Come on,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and comforting. “Let’s get out of the water.”

He tilts his head forward a moment and then struggles to his feet. He stays there, looking out at the lake, and for a terrible moment, I think he’s going to walk right out into deep water. Then, to my relief, he turns and follows me back, splashing the few paces to shore.

We sink down on the grass, and I wait, anxious. “I’m sorry, Ethan. God, I’m so sorry!” The words come tumbling out in a frantic rush. “I told her, but I never thought she’d show up here, or be . . . such a bitch!” I swallow, a sharp pain inside as I think about what I’ve done to him. “But that’s no excuse, I know. I made you a promise.”

Ethan is motionless as the minutes slip by. I begin to worry that he’s gone into some kind of shock: the real kind, from the trauma of his fight with Grady, and the fact that his whole life is splitting apart. But then, finally, he lets out a long sigh.

“It’s OK,” he says quietly.

“It’s not!” I cry. “Ethan, how can you say that?”

“What else am I going to do?” He turns to me, and for a moment I think he’s completely defeated, but then I see something else in his expression. The moonlight is shadowed on his face, but I think there’s something . . . almost calm. “It’s done. It’s out now. I’m out,” he adds with a bitter laugh. “It was always going to happen eventually.”

“But not like this!” My voice sticks. He pats my shoulder — a faint, small gesture.

“It’s done,” he says again, resigned.

There’s more silence.

“So, what . . . what happens now?” I still feel wretched. “Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I guess I just have to hope Grady comes around. Eventually. And doesn’t tell my parents.” He pauses. “God, my parents.”

I reach over and take his hand, squeezing it fiercely. “You’re going to be OK. And I hate it, that it’s like this for you, but . . . you’ll get through it.” I hope to God that it’s true. If only he were in a larger town, or even back in New Jersey. It would be hard there, sure, but there wouldn’t be this same spectacle. He wouldn’t be going through this alone.

A cloud drifts over the moon, and for a second, we’re in the dark again: a thick blackness all around that I can almost touch. The lake swells against the shore with a low swoosh of sound, rhythmic and calming. It would be beautiful if the ugly fight from before wasn’t lingering over us both.

“You want to know the weird thing?” Ethan asks, turning to me. His dark hair falls, messy over his eyes. “Before, when Olivia said what she did, I was standing there, and all I could feel was . . . relief. Like, it was finally out of my hands.” He swallows, bringing his legs up against his chest. “All this time, I’ve been trying so hard to keep it secret. To stop everything from changing.”

I sigh. “But you can’t.”

“Nope.”

There’s a pause. “Maybe this is good,” Ethan says, as if he’s trying to convince himself. “Maybe now I can figure out what comes next. How to be this guy.”

“You’re still you,” I insist. I wish I could be around to support him through this. “What was it you said to me? That you didn’t want this one part defining who you are. You’re not just g*y.”

“I know.” He gives me a weak smile. “But people, they don’t see it like that.”

“They should,” I say fiercely, but something suddenly catches in my chest. Here I am, swearing that Ethan is more than his sexuality, when I’ve been doing the same thing. Or rather, the opposite. My environmentalism, the Green Teens — I threw myself into them to fill this space in me. I wanted to quiet the loneliness, and have some kind of power when life seemed totally out of my control, but without noticing, they became almost everything to me.

That’s why Olivia changing has been such a shock, I realize, and why I’ve been so reluctant to see anyone else’s point of view. Because if all I am is a Green Teen, what happens when I start questioning our ideals? What will life be like back in New Jersey without Olivia, or my old group, and all that purpose and direction I felt?

Ethan is quiet beside me, lost in his own troubles as I gaze out at the dark lake, thinking back to the meetings, the protests, all those hours I would spend writing letters and handing out pamphlets . . . It made me feel safer, as if I could make some small difference in this vast, scary planet. But for all that effort and energy, I’ve discovered that things aren’t as simple as I thought. The slogans I chanted and the banners I waved don’t even come close to addressing the real problems facing the world. The real answers are shades of gray, layered with compromise and priorities I can’t even begin to grasp. I want to understand, but I know now that I’m not going to find any of those hard truths just cheerleading recycling drives or waving signs around at construction sites as if that’s all it will take to make things better. It’s a start, but there’s so much more.

I let out a long breath. Ethan’s right; my worries may not be as life-changing as his, but it’s a relief to have the truth suddenly laid out in front of you. I’ve been clinging to my Green Teen identity to give me someplace to fit. But I’m more than that. And so is he.

“It’ll be OK,” I tell him, and for the first time, I believe it for myself. “You’ll figure it out.”