Just Friends by Billy Taylor Page A

everything that I really didn’t care about what happened. I just wished I never agreed to see Mark. One day, Ethan has been back one day. Not even one day, a few hours, and he’s already going to be kicked out of college, with less than a week to go.
    “Hi.” I said to Ethan as he stood at his sink. I realised my choice of words could’ve been better due to the circumstances.
    “Will you give me a hand here please?” He held up his hand, revealing his badly bruised knuckles.
    I took ahold of his hand in my own, analysing it. It was still shaking.
    “Sit down and I’ll get you some ice.”
    He’d already got a bag of ice scattered on the side. Obviously he’s struggling to adapt with his arm in a cast. I grabbed two sandwich bags from the draw placing one inside the other for strength. Filled them with ice and cold water then tied a knot at the top. Ethan had sat on a stool at the centerpiece of the kitchen. I walked over and pulled up a stool. They’re big stools, so I always have to climb onto them without looking like a toddler. I hopped onto mine and faced Ethan, our knees almost touching. I lifted his hand onto the side, placing the bag of ice onto his damaged knuckles.
    “Better?” I asked.
    He nodded faintly in reply. He looked terrible, like he hadn’t been sleeping well. His face had lost its colour again, surely what happened back at college didn’t cause all this?
    I opened my mouth but Ethan beat me to it.
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, staring at his hand.
    “I don’t know, I didn’t know how to tell you.”
    Ethan continued to stare at the ice on his hand. “There’s something…there’s something, I need to tell you.”
    “What’s wrong?” I immediately replied.
    I heard in his voice that this was a serious matter.
    “My Dad died, last Thursday. I got a call after you left the hospital. He drank himself to death. They brought him back a couple of times in the ambulance and in hospital. He kept slipping out of their hands until they eventually had to give up on him.”
    I dropped my head and gazed at my lap. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.
    “It’s my fault.” Ethan added.
    “Don’t be ridiculous.” I snapped.
    I couldn’t believe he thought that, there was no saving his Dad.
    “There’s something… else I need to tell you. I’ve been keeping it from everyone, but I told my dad before he left.” The concern that rushed over me when he mentioned something else , how could his situation get any worse?
    “What is it?”
    Ethan flopped the ice off his hand, rose from his stool and walked out of the kitchen. I heard a door creak open and slam shut. He reappeared holding a black travel bag. He dropped it onto the floor beside my stool. I hopped off my stool, crouching down alongside the bag. I anxiously dragged the zip across to find it was filled with money. I glanced back up at Ethan, speechless. He focused on the bag with disgust.
    “Is this your Dad’s winnings?” I returned to my feet.
    “Ethan.” I said louder, as I didn’t receive an answer.
    He took a deep breath in. “No, they’re actually… my winnings. You see my Dad hasn’t been doing well at all these past few months… I have. He’s been doing terrible in fact. He’d go out to all these casinos and return empty handed. If he earned anything he’d have lost it soon after. He’d come home, leave his bag at the bottom of the staircase and fall asleep on the sofa. Every morning when I came downstairs I’d check his bag. Empty. Always empty. I’d had enough, I wouldn’t allow him to send us bankrupt. So the next time he went out, I myself went out. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve done it now. Each time I’d come back with a larger amount. When my Dad got back I’d put some of the money I’d won into his bag. I thought he’d maybe consider stopping for a while, but he’d run on out again to return with an empty bag. That was the disappointing part, he wouldn’t