Susane Colasanti - Now and Forever

Except it doesn’t feel that way anymore. Right now, I’m planning to be in Vermont for the next four years and trying to accept that Ethan and I will probably see each other even less next year and dealing with the complete absence of privacy in my life. I’m totally stressed out. But for Ethan, it’s another night in another city. Another show bringing him one step closer to world domination.

I put the magazine on top of the pile with all the others we’ve been in. Then I check Ethan’s fan page for some major news he told me would probably drop today. There it is. The release date of his second album. With an announcement of his upcoming international tour. There’s a new topic being hotly debated by the fans. Ethan was on The View yesterday. The hosts were asking him about me. They asked him if it was true that he wrote “Now and Forever” for me. When they asked if Ethan thought we’d be together forever, here’s what he said:

“Forever is a long time. I love Sterling. But none of us can guarantee anything forever. Look at the divorce rate. Over half of all marriages end in divorce. No one gets married thinking their marriage will end. But look how frequently it happens.”

I’m trying to forget what he said. I’m trying not to think about what it means for our future.

Of course the media is all over this. Rumors that we’re breaking up are spreading. Everyone keeps repeating this blurb from the interview:

“Forever is a long time. . . . None of us can guarantee anything forever.”

After a few rumors spreading like wildfire and an edited blurb taken out of context being posted everywhere, Ethan’s image has gone from beloved sweetheart to reprehensible womanizer. As any dedicated army would, Ethan’s fans are defending him en masse. They won’t stand for a weak public opinion of their idol. I scroll through the comments on Ethan’s fan page. They’re also defending his baller slip.

None of them know Ethan. All they’ve heard are a few twisted blurbs from the media. Did they even watch the entire interview?

What he said was totally taken out of context. They’re basing their judgments of him on lies. They don’t know.

This is just like when people got all uptight about the baller thing. A person can’t be perfect all the time. People make mistakes. Why isn’t Ethan allowed to make one mistake? It’s so stupid.

I don’t know what impresses me more: the fans’ fierce loyalty or the lack of typos in their comments. Almost all of them are bringing their grammatical A-game to defend Ethan.

Ethan’s calling me. He called me twice yesterday, plus this morning. Nothing like a snarky media frenzy to get your boyfriend to blow up your phone. Right after the interview aired, Ethan called to tell me he was caught off guard by the question. He didn’t know they were going to word it like that. But he swore he meant everything he’s told me in private.

“How are you holding up?” he asks when I answer.

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry this has gotten so absurd. It’ll die down soon.”

“I know.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” How ironic is it that Ethan’s being more available right when I don’t feel like talking to him? Ever since talking to Damien last week when I realized how Ethan-centric my solar system had become, I haven’t been as obsessed with staying updated on every little piece of Ethan Cross news. This is the first time I’ve checked his fan page in a while. I’m not sure how healthy it is to be orbiting Ethan’s star anymore.

“How was your day?” he asks.

“Good. I’ve been working on this idea. For a video series.”

“Cool! Zeke will love it.”

“No, it’s not . . . it’s about me.”

“Oh.”

“You know how I’m into cooking.”

“Of course.”

“Well, I was thinking it might be fun to do a video series on cooking. Like where I can share my favorite recipes and tips and techniques and stuff. It would probably be mainly geared toward college students. Do you know how hard it is to cook at college? No one cooks unless they live off campus and have their own kitchen. Which I’ll focus on, like how to cook on a college-student budget. And I can do some videos on how to cook gourmet meals on a tight budget with only a toaster oven or microwave. I’m not exactly sure yet. I’m still working out the details.”

Silence from Ethan’s end.

“Hello?” I say. “Are you still there?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way. But . . . why would you want to do that?”

My heart sinks. I was really hoping Ethan would be as excited about my idea as I am.

“For fun,” I say.

“It sounds more like work.”

“But fun work.”

“You’d have to plan each video. Film them. Stress over building an audience. Why would you want to put yourself through all that hassle?”

“That’s what people do. You of all people should understand the process of building something from nothing.”

“Why would you want to put so much time and energy into something that would only have a few hundred followers? If that?”

If that? Ethan doesn’t even think I could get a few hundred followers? “It’s not about how many followers I’d have. It’s about creating something. Making a contribution. Connecting with people in a meaningful way. No matter how many people are watching.” Doesn’t Ethan get that? Where did he go?

“Listen. I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just looking at this on a much larger scale.”

So Ethan is basically saying my idea sucks. The first idea I’ve had in forever that doesn’t involve him and he hates it. I can’t believe he’s not supporting me. I’ve been his number one fan for so long. Why can’t he be the same for me?

I try to remember New Year’s Eve. I remember what Ethan said to me. How he said to remember that night when we’re apart. To remember how much he loves me.

But that night is from another era when forever meant something. That night is distant. Muted.

Almost like it happened in a dream.

[18,804,073 FOLLOWERS]

“What a squat on you,” Gram says.

That’s what Gramp used to say when I was little. He taught me how to play cards. Including the game Gram and I always play, Rummy 500. If you have a squat, it means you hold spreads until you can go out. Then you put everything down on the table at once and everyone else has to eat the cards they’re holding. I’m not sure how the term “squat” was coined. “Stealth like a ninja” would probably be a better description.

Gram shakes her head at the spreads I just threw down: three queens; the five, six, seven, and eight of hearts; three tens; and four, not three, aces.

“Merciless,” she complains. “Just merciless.”

“I was taught by the best.”

“No argument there.” Gram adds up her points and writes down her score. “How’d you do?”

“One forty.”

“The squat on her,” Gram mumbles. Her pencil reluctantly scratches my 140 on the score sheet next to the 30 points she managed to scrape by with.

“You still have a chance to catch up. Sort of.”

Gram looks at me.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m proud of you. You’re growing into a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. It’s remarkable.”

“Thanks, Gram.” I wonder where that came from. I’m not that good at cards.

Gram collects the cards and shuffles. I notice she’s not wearing her wedding ring.

“What happened to your wedding ring?”

“It’s being cleaned. So how’s Ethan? Where is he tonight?”

“Boston. He’s good.”

“Such a wonderful boy.”

Out of nowhere, I burst into tears.