Ethan Goes South

Ethan Goes South

Sophie called Ethan, her neighbor, before she left for work, “Ethan, can you watch Amy for me this afternoon? I have to work again.”


Ethan was glad to help, “Sure, Sophie, that’s what neighbors are for.” Ethan was used to it. Sophie was a workaholic first, a gym rat next, and a part-time alcoholic. Amy had been a surprise baby who took more of her time than Sophie expected.


Ethan picked Amy up at the school bus stop at three, then helped with her homework until six. It propelled Amy from C’s to A’s. It was just third grade, but his tutoring led her to excel through grade, middle, and high school. Plus, it made Ethan feel needed, before he left for the warehouse night-shift.
Eight years before, when Ethan moved in next door, Sophie dropped by to welcome him to the neighborhood with a bottle of wine in hand. She did not intend to sleep over, but she had just come from happy hour and was on a roll. Sophie never remembered that one-time tryst; Ethan never forgot it.

Pam, the neighbor across the street, watched the neighborhood through her bay window. She saw all comings and goings. Divorced and forty-five, she envied the way people in their twenties and thirties connected so easily. Pam invited herself over to Ethan’s porch on Sunday after her church let out. She tried and failed to seduce him.


Pam said, “Ethan, we have a lot in common. We both live alone, we both work odd hours. We should hang out more often.”
Ethan said, “You’re welcome on my porch anytime. Mi porcha es su porcha.”
Pam said, “I haven’t seen the inside. Maybe you could give me the tour.”
Ethan said, “Not now, Pam, it’s all man-cave, a total mess.” Pam always got the “Not now,” from Ethan. It hurt. It gradually sunk in; Sophie and Amy had a monopoly on Ethan. Pam’s envy grew with each unsuccessful visit. She called a tip-line and Ethan was arrested for child-molestation.

Amy was questioned by police, doctors, counselors, and social workers, but insisted Ethan had never touched her. Sophie asserted Ethan’s innocence, but her memory was dotted with blackouts. The court dismissed the charges and held no trial, but a neighborhood watch team was formed to monitor Ethan, and men in general. Ethan’s landlord refused to renew his lease. Ethan packed up at night, put the bare essentials in his truck and put the rest by the curb. He drove south from Virginia, looking for a state where people ignored news and neighbors.

When Amy turned eighteen she was contacted by an attorney and received the proceeds of an anonymous trust. She took the money and began spending it immediately. She hired a private investigator who, in turn, hired a skip tracer. A bounty hunter was considered, but dismissed, there being no bond. Amy learned that, in addition to fingerprints, DNA was taken in every arrest. She sent her saliva to an ancestry search firm and filed requests for family court records. She looked up old news stories about the arrest. Online, she found a database showing where accused sex criminals resided. Amy spent a good chunk of the trust money to put her mother in the best alcohol treatment center in Virginia. She had enough left over to buy a new car. Amy packed warm-weather clothes and headed south.

Ethan tended a poolside bar at a gulf-shore hotel. Serving double-strength drinks brought him double-size tips. He wore a beard and ponytail, faded Hawaiian shirts, and a plastic watch. If anyone asked, he said he was a broke veteran named Thomas. Other times he said he was Juan, an immigrant who was sending all his money to his family in Honduras. He was never just Ethan from Virginia, warehouse worker, alleged pedophile. Tipsy tourists were his only friends. He sold drinks over the counter and dealt weed underneath it. He paid no taxes and kept his money offshore.

Amy narrowed her search down, town by town, bar by bar, until she arrived and sat on a bamboo barstool at Ethan’s counter wearing oversized shades and a ball cap. She ordered a double vodka tonic, though she never drank and never would. Ethan asked the teen for ID. When he saw her license, her name and address, he felt the world closing in on him. He asked her, “Do you really want a drink? Is that what you’re here for?”
Amy said, “No. I came to see your face. I’m looking for resemblance.”
He asked, “How did you find me?”
Amy said, “I’m clever, like my father, who never told anyone he was accepted to colleges he couldn’t afford. Or that he didn’t just work nights in a warehouse, he built his own. I was accepted by UVA, but I can’t afford it. The size of the trust fund made me think. Maybe I should ask dear old dad for help.”
Ethan said, “I have some money stashed away.”
Amy said, “I assumed so. I’ve seen your credit report.”
He said, “Maybe I could sell my boat.”
“Boats.” she said.