The Destiny of Ethan King

Chapter 8: Shell Shock

"You're not droppin out of college. End of story." Ethan's mum turned away to look out of the taxi window. They were on their way home from the hospital after an MRI scan. 

"It's my choice. I won't be able to concentrate on anythin now anyway," Ethan replied in a low voice, conscious of what the taxi driver would think. 

"I don't want to talk about it now." She was still pretending to find something she could see out of the window very interesting. Ethan shook his head and decided that a change of topic was called for. 

"You told dad yet?" 

"There's no point in worryin him. Not that he'd care anyway." She rubbed the strip of white skin on her ring finger. 

"He'd want to know. I don't think it's fair not to tell him." Not fair on his dad or on him. He felt like a piggy in the middle. Was he supposed to just pretend everything was fine next time he visited his dad? 

Silence for a minute, then she looked at him. "You can tell him if you want to, but tell him I don't need his help. The last thing I need is him comin round tryin to take over things." 

"Okay," he said, not sure how else to respond. 

The taxi turned into their street. "Anywhere here on the right will be great, thanks." Ethan's mum took her purse out of her handbag and pulled out a five-pound note. The driver pulled over and pressed a couple of buttons on the meter. He turned to look at them through the opening in the divide. 

"That's four fifty, please." 

She handed over the note. "Keep the change." 

"Thanks, love. Bye now." 

"Bye." 

They got out of the cab and Ethan took his front door key out of his jeans pocket. He opened the gate for his mum and went ahead to open the door. 

They entered the living room and Ethan turned on the lights and took his mum's coat. "How you feelin?" 

"Not bad, bit tired though." She let out a long sigh as she sat down on the couch. 

"Want a cuppa?" 

"Go on then." She smiled. "And maybe a chocolate digestive. What d'you think?" They both laughed and Ethan went into the kitchen. He'd just put the kettle on when his mobile phone rang. He flipped it open and looked at the caller ID. It was his dad. 

"Hi, dad. How's it goin?" He closed the kitchen door. 

"Yeah, not bad thanks. I was just thinkin about you. Was gonna come round to see you tomorrow, round sixish if that's okay with you." His dad's voice sounded a bit strained. He wedged the phone between his shoulder and chin and reached for a teabag. "Yeah, college is all right. Lots of work as usual, will be glad when we break up for Christmas next week. Yeah." He laughed. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then, dad. Take care. Bye." 

Ethan closed his phone and finished making the cup of tea. 

After college the following day, Ethan caught the bus to the other side of town to visit his dad. His house was only a five-minute walk from the bus stop and it was a dry day. 

The terraced house looked run-down. The red paint was peeling off the front door and the windows were filthy. Ethan rang the bell and waited. Nothing. He looked at his watch: quarter past six. Ethan pressed the bell again. He couldn't see through the window because the curtains were drawn. That was odd; it was still quite light out. Maybe he'd forgotten that he was calling round.