Ethel Didn't

Ethel didn’t hate her name yet. She also didn’t believe the kids who said Santa wasn’t real. She didn’t watch too much TV, nor did she eat too much candy. She ate chocolate the least and lemon lollipops from the bank the most. She didn’t like it when her mom put pink bows in her hair because they were pink. She didn’t mind purple but really preferred yellow, the type of yellow that the lollipops were. She didn’t like kids who said they hated broccoli. She didn’t even want to sit by them in class.

What about ‘Ethel did’? Oh, Ethel did plenty of things. Ethel did like school. And, maybe even more than school, Ethel liked the invisible notes Mara passed to her. She also liked that it didn’t matter if the teacher was looking at them or not because they were invisible! She liked that they were invisible, but most of all she liked Mara.

Ethel would have played with tea sets, dolls, blocks, crayons— anything if it was with Mara. Mara made everything fun. Mara made Ethel want to play with her every day. But Ethel could not. Ethel had to go away on weekends to see her dad and only her dad, or so he said. He always said they didn’t get enough time alone so there were no friends allowed. And besides, her dad was a long car ride away from Mara and her invisible notes and curly blonde hair and pink bows. Ethel only liked pink bows on Mara. But, even at the ripe age of six, Ethel knew it was probably because of Mara more than it was because of pink.

Ethel didn’t necessarily dread trips to see her dad, though. She liked her dad. He was big and warm and squishy and always smelled like peppermint soap. His moustache tickled her face when he kissed her, but she didn’t really mind that. She didn’t even mind the cigarettes he smoked when she was in the car with him when he opened the window, even though her mom told her it was very bad for him to do that.

Ethel liked that they had the same dark hair. They both even had bangs that went in their eyes. She picked the dead skin off of her lips just like him. She picked just like him, even though he said that her mom was the one that picked. Like a scavenger.

Ethel didn’t like the way he and her mom talked when they were around each other. They were always angry. Always so angry. Ethel hated it whenever anyone was angry. Hated it so much, she became angry. And, once she was angry, she hated it. Hated it so much she had to reach up and feel her smooth earlobes.

Once Ethel attached tiny finger to earlobe, her body would slowly relax. Her brows would unfurl and she would press her lips together and wiggle her ears once or twice before a wave of tiredness would crash over her. It felt the best when her dad was holding her, answering the call of her upwardly stretched arms, her clenching and unclenching hands. When he held her, she would go for his earlobes rather than her own. Her dad’s earlobes were the best because they were covered in what Ethel thought to be a million tiny blonde hairs. Which she liked. They were blonde like Mara’s.

She also liked that he gave her a piece of gum after a twirling hug that could never be too long. This Friday, it was Big Red. Ethel popped the thin red stick out of its aluminum foil wrapping straight into her mouth. The gum bit back, a sizzle of cinnamon surged through her mouth, chilling her teeth but no more than the wind from outside. She never knew why her dad complained about Big Red. It was her favorite. Even over the sugary stuff. He always told her she had to come from somewhere else to not like sugary gum, that she couldn’t be his. She wrapped her blue plush coat tighter around herself before looking back and giving her mother, who was hidden behind Grammy’s screen door, what she thought was one last wave.

“Fred,” The screen door sounded after Ethel’s mom who was barefooted with crossed arms. Ethel could feel the frustration emanating from her father as they stood in the middle of the lawn and pulled her shoulders up around her chin in a like huff.

“Fred, don’t forget what I told you.”

“I think I’ve got it, Sheri.” They narrowed their eyes at each other.

Ethel’s mom turned from him, bent down and gave Ethel a kiss on the forehead. “You be good this weekend, sweetie, okay?” Ethel turned her face up to her mother, which was being guided by her mother’s firm grip as her father continued to the car; she was frustrated at the repetitiveness because he mother had already told her this inside.

“That goes for you too, Fred,” Ethel’s mom dropped her chin and straightened, looking at him as if she were willing her eyes to cut him from afar. “Or I won’t let you have her next—“

Her dad slammed the trunk loudly, cutting off her mother and opened the passenger door for Ethel, not looking at her as he did so. With much effort, Ethel clambered inside. She knew her mother would be upset she wasn’t sitting in the back, so she focused on the feather hanging from the big mirror up top instead of out the window. She liked to think that he got the feather from a friend somewhere, a friend from the stories he told. Her father closed the door sharply and there were more muffled gruntings from her parents outside. She settled herself in and strapped the buckle across herself instead of listening.

Ethel focused on how she always felt so small in the station wagon’s seats when he first picked her up. She felt as small as she did the first day on the playground when they were picking teams for kickball and no one chose her, the new girl. She wasn’t even chosen last. Ethel didn’t like sports after that.

The drivers door opened and the noises from outside were no longer muffled. Her mother's voice pierced through Ethel's thoughts which were not so happy themselves. “You were two hours late, Fred! I don't wanna hear you missed the exit; you've been to my mother's house dozens of times!”

“So, did you play basketball in gym yet, Princess?” her dad’s voice was louder than her mothers. He shut the door on her and started the car, which didn't seem to be quite as loud as he was. He always boomed, though. Ethel liked that. Even her dad’s hands seemed big and booming on the steering wheel. The black hairs on the back of his hands were so long and coarse, it looked as if he were one with the car, like the hairs were actually small tubes that the car used to attach itself to him. She made a mental note to tell Mara next time she saw her.

“Nope.” She swung her legs from side to side, letting the heels of her Mary Jane’s smack into and off of each other over and over again. She looked straight ahead instead of in the mirror with the feather, avoiding the sight of her mother standing in the street with clenched fists slowly disappearing behind them. Her dad scratched his head with dirty fingernails. Ethel wondered if the ground got under his nails like the steering wheel got into his hairs.

“Why not?”

Ethel shrugged and let her head sink down. She stopped kicking her feet. “I dunno. Don’t like it. Didn’t play.” She started picking at the cloth cushion of the car.

“Whaddya mean you don’t like it? You were telling me before you and mom moved—“ he stopped, cleared his throat and scratched the top of his head again with the hand he usually smoked with. He took out what he called a hand rolled cigarette.

“Will you tell me a story, Daddy?” Ethel shouted over the wind with much effort, she had not inherited her dad’s booming abilities. She propped her feet up on the dashboard, her knees folding into her chest. She twisted the balls of her feet in semi-circles leaving little shoeprints on the dashboard. She looked at how small the prints were. They seemed separate from the car, unlike her dad’s hands and the steering wheel. Ethel pursed her lips. She hadn’t inherited that either.

“Hm?” Her dad turned to look at her. “Agggh!” His nose crinkled. “Will you get your feet off there? You’re making a mess.”

Ethel furrowed her brow. “Why? Mommy doesn’t mind.”

He took a drag off his cigarette. “I do. Ethel, please.”

Ethel looked with resentment at the cigarette, not allowing herself to be mad with her dad. How could she be? He was one with the car, the car probably asked him to ask her to stop. Ethel slid her feet down the dashboard slowly, making more tracks. Her eyes widened at the remaining brown stains.

It was like the time when she was playing outside in the snow when she and her mom were living with Aunt Melanie. She had wanted to make a snowman, but gave up on doing it alone. She had already tried too many times to think it would work. This was before Ethel knew Mara. Had she known Mara, she would have been building an underground city! But she didn’t. Not then. So she wasn’t.

She kicked around the little balls of snow that were her failed attempts at snowman sections. Ethel stamped her foot a little too hard and her heel dug up some mud under the snow. She crinkled her nose in disgust, like her father, and started rubbing her shoe in the snow. Her eyes widened at the murky trail the mud let behind. This started a strange pattern of clean then dirty then clean then dirty that didn’t end until her neighbor poked his head outside and asked what in the world she was doing.

Ethel coughed when the smoke from her dad’s cigarette started circling around her face. She wished she could like the cigarette smoke- wished she could pretend it was like clouds and pick shapes out of it. But she couldn’t.

She waved one hand in front of her face while she pinched her nose with the other. She remembered she had done so once and got smacked for it. She immediately dropped her hands, took a big breath, puffed up her cheeks and opened her watering eyes wide. She opened her window a crack too. She thought she did it just a little bit so that he wouldn’t notice… but it was too loud.

“Ethel, what did I tell you?” He blew more smoke into the car.

She flinched and drooped her head. “That the smoke will come to me if I have my window open too…” She suppressed a cough the skunky smelling smoke was trying to provoke.

“And do you want more smoke in your face?” Her dad blew more again and turned up the radio.

Ethel shook her head no. She leaned her head against the pane of glass in defeat. By this point, Ethel forgot that she had asked her dad for a story. He used to tell her stories all the time. He used to tell her stories for hours. Stories about cats and dogs becoming friends, stories about Indians playing with nature, stories about birds carrying messages from the gods… they were always the best stories too. Ethel liked his stories. Sometimes, when Mara first started passing her invisible notes, Ethel would pretend that the notes contained the stories that her dad told. In fact, when her dad did play with her, he reminded her of Mara…

Ethel looked out the window at the trees flitting by. At least they weren’t like that first time. Then, they were all sad, all waving goodbye. She hated those trees, hated going to Aunt Melanie’s. Ethel liked to think the trees were her friends now, waving hello, but they still seemed sad.

Everything in the car was so still, so unmoving compared to the trees. Ethel frowned, surveying the stationary inside. The only things in the back were dead plant parts and luggage, both just parts separated from a whole. Ethel turned to her father.

“Allison said it was weird that you and Mommy aren’t together.”

“What?” he asked after a pause.

“Allison said that mommies and daddies are supposed to be together. She said Mommy was crazy for not staying with you.” Ethel paused. “Allison said she would have stayed with you because you could have given Mommy flowers everyday. Did you give them to her everyday?”

“Ethel, I don’t know where you’re getting this stuff, but—“

“I don’t think mommies and daddies should be together.” She crossed her arms. “I told her she was stupid. Now she won’t talk to me anymore.”

“Well, Ethel, what do you expect?”

“How long have you and Mommy not been together?”

He picked at his lips before answering. “Since you were three.”

“Mommy said it was when I was four.”

“Oh yeah?” His nostrils flared. “What else does Mommy say?”

“She says you’re like a little boy and that you think she woke up one day and stopped loving you. Did you stop loving her? Is that why you think that? Because you did, she did too?”

“Your mother thinks lots of things.” He reached over Ethel’s knees and dug an Elvis tape out of the glove compartment. “Why don’t you put this in for me, huh?”

Ethel was careful with the tape, pushed in the center to pop it out, just like he taught her. Otherwise, she would mess it all up. Ethel pushed it into the slot and bounced her knees.

“Are we close?”

“We have about another hour.”

Ethel moaned. “Another hour?”

“Yes, and then you can see Yiayia and Papou.” This made Ethel smile. “Do you know what Yiayia and Papou means?” Ethel nodded her head. “What does it mean, then?

“Grandma and Grandpa; duh Dad. You told me that forever ago.”

“No, it means Grandma and Grandpa on the daddy’s side. Nauna and Nunu are what Mommy’s parents would be called if she were Greek too.” Ethel sniffed. She didn’t like not being right.

“I like our name. I like being Greek.” Ethel offered.

“Ethel isn’t greek. Chroneos isn’t even our real last name; did you know that?”

“It’s not?” Ethel pulled her knees to her chest, trying to find a comfortable way to sit.

“No, we used to Portocolises but there were too many. So we changed our name to be different when we got to Ellis Island. Have they taught you about Ellis Island in… that school of yours?”

Ethel shook her head. She didn’t like hearing that she was a Whatsa-colis. She always thought she was a Chroneos. She had to be a Chroneos. How could her great grandpa lie like that? How could he trick everyone? “I gotta pee.”

Her dad stopped, mid-ramble. “Pee? Now?”

Ethel nodded her head. “I gotta pee bad.”

“Can it wait till an exit?”

Ethel shook her head and put her hands between her legs. “Not uh. I gotta go.”

He grunted. “Alright. You’re going to have to go on the side of the road, then.”

Ethel made a low noise in the back of her throat. She wanted to get out of the car, the car that was stationary when everything else was moving. It was like everything in the car was going backwards. The car was now a place where her dad didn’t tell stories, where she didn’t know what her last name really was. Was what they changed it to real? Or was it the old one that was real?

“Daaaad!”

He pulled off into the median and ordered her to stay inside till he got around and opened her door. His phone chirped as he pulled the door handle.

“Freddy P!” The voice on the other end of the phone was gruff.

“Ethel, you know what to do. Just go off the road a bit and squat down like I showed you. I’ll be watching from right over here to make sure you’re okay.”

She nodded. “Do you have any toilet paper?”

“No, honey.” The phone beeped at him. “Just shake; you’ll be alright.”

When she had to go on the side of the road before, he would always come and stand in front of her with his back turned so the cars couldn’t see. She shuffled through the dewy grass about a foot and bent down.

“Psst,” Ethel jumped at the noise as she pulled up her underwear, just having finished.

“Mara?”

Mara stepped out of the bushes, curly blonde hair shining, pink bows perfectly in place. She giggled. “I know I wasn’t supposed to come but I figured you could use some good stories on such a long car ride…”

Ethel smiled. “I don’t think he cares about it just being me and him anymore. If we hurry, we can sneak you into the back.”

Mara smiled. “I don’t think he’ll see me.” Ethel didn’t think he would either.