Ethan takes a paring knife to the large vanilla sheet cake featuring an edible print of a smiling, mid-twenties Caucasian male and the promise “We’ll Miss You!” written above it in blue frosting. There’s a swift hit to his hand. A small woman fires an iron glare honed by decades of mothering. She advises, “Please go out and make an appearance,” before exiting with a tray of cheeses. Ethan stares at the grainy image, focuses in on that cheap grin. The cake looks like a memorial for someone who’s passed away. He cuts a square around the face.

“Mom’s gonna be pissed!” chimes a voice too shrill for a boy of fifteen.

Ethan turns to his younger brother. “It’s my cake,” he says.

The boy shrugs.

“You want a piece? Here.” He hands him the cutout of his face, and his brother goes to eat in secret. The guest of honor opens his third Brooklyn Lager and takes an easy sip. This one will last him through the night. Ethan watches partygoers trickle in the door: mostly gray-haired couples, his parents’ friends, and a few former classmates he hasn’t seen in three to seven years. There must not be anything better to do on a Saturday night in Michigan.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” An Indian guy with gelled hair and pointed toe shoes peers into the kitchen.

“I think it’s that way,” Ethan says as if he doesn’t know.

The visitor goes down the hall. Ethan’s attendees are only recognizable through Facebook photos. The men have gotten fatter, the women look terser, and all have become better dressed. Ethan thinks for a moment of how his party consists only of unfamiliars. He wouldn’t have been able to come up with a better guest list anyway.

The Indian guy returns. “Is there more beer in the fridge?” he asks.

Ethan hands him one.

“Thanks, man. I’m Raj. How do you know Ethan?”

Ethan responds, “I went to school with him.”

“High School or College?”

“College.”

“Nice. I’m at Ross for my MBA,” Raj says as if it means something.

Ethan nods perfunctorily. “Did you go to undergrad with Ethan?”

“No, I went to Cornell. My girlfriend brought me here. No idea who Ethan is, but this guy’s apparently MIA at his own party.”

“Typical Ethan. He’s kind of irresponsible.”

“I guess. I can’t tell if he’s dumb, or if he just doesn’t care.”

Ethan straightens his back. “What do you mean?”

“He wasted a full-ride to UM on a philosophy major. Then he worked at some bar in Chicago for like, six years, and now his parents are throwing him a lame party because he’s going to teach English in Korea? This dude is 29.”

“29 is young.”

“Yeah, for like, buying a house or starting your own business. My 21-year-old cousin just graduated, and she’s going to teach English in Korea. It’s what people do when they don’t know what they’re doing.”

Ethan stares flatly at Raj. “Who’d you say you came here with again?”

“My girlfriend, Stacey.”

“Stacey Anderson?” Ethan drinks to that.

Raj doesn’t like the way he said her name. “Yeah. You know her?”

“She was Ethan’s first girlfriend. He took her virginity in the backseat of his dad’s Explorer.”

“I highly doubt that,” Raj says, disengaged. “Stacey went to undergrad out of state.”

“Nah, man. They were fourteen.” Ethan flashes his tongue. He strolls into the living room, wishing to make a clean break to the porch for a cigarette. Ethan’s not a smoker, but he enjoys the occasional nicotine rush to top off a mild buzz. A few people greet him with cheerful looks of recognition. He keeps walking and pretends they’ve mistaken him for someone else.

“Ethan!” calls a well-known, vibrant voice, which as of recent, he’s heard only over the phone. This is someone he’ll stop for. Kate; he hasn’t seen her in almost three years. They hug, and Ethan notes she still smells like peaches and Cetaphil. But there’s a hard bump between them. Kate tracks his eyes to her stomach and flushes. She rubs her belly. “Five months,” she says, beaming. Ethan looks at the rest of Kate. She’s cut her hair short and wears darker colors, but there’s something markedly changed in her expression and the way she stands. Her gaze is firm, grounded.

“You look good,” she says.

“Not as good as you.”

She smiles. He can still make her blush.

“When’s your flight tomorrow?”

“8am.”

“That’s early for you.”

“Afraid I won’t make it?”

“No. You will,” she says confidently.

A tall, mid-thirties man with glasses approaches. He wraps his arm around Kate. “Ethan Wood: my biggest threat,” he jokes. Kate rolls her eyes and laughs. Ethan tries to detect artifice in him, but there isn’t any.

“Nice to finally meet.” Jeff raises his drink, and Ethan brings his bottle to the man’s wine glass. They clink.

“Brooklyn Lager? You been holding out on me?”

“There’s more in the fridge. I’ll get you one later.”

“I look forward to that.” Her husband’s self-assurance casts a presence larger than his wiry frame. He looks around. “So how’s the company? Are we up to par?”

“Of course,” Ethan says cordially.

“Well Farmington Hills can’t beat Chicago, and it definitely isn’t Seoul. Will this be your first trip to Asia?”

“Yeah. I heard you’ve been a few times. Any pointers?”

Jeff brushes it off, “I’ve only been for a week at a time, mainly for work. Never got the chance to sink my feet in.” He graces Ethan with a look of envy, “Living there’s going to be exciting.”

“That’s what I hear.”

Jeff looks at him. Though Ethan’s responses are plainly cursory, they don’t come off as disingenuous. Jeff isn’t sure if it’s confidence or indifference that he’s reading in Ethan, but he likes it.

“I should make a few rounds and say, ‘hi.’ I’ll find you later for that beer.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you,” Jeff says.

Kate waves, and Ethan goes onto the patio. No one’s there. He relishes a moment of satisfaction. Ethan sits on the porch swing and stares out at his parents’ lawn, a black mass, though the line between ground and sky is lit by orange porch lighting and the moon. He lights a Camel and thinks about how he and Kate used to sleep, her armpit resting against his upper arm, his hand cupping her right breast, which was a little smaller than her left one. In a few months, those breasts will be lactating.

The sliding door opens and closes. A girl of twenty-three, her hair in a ponytail and a red cup in her hand, comes onto the porch. “Hey, you.” She sits next to Ethan.

He gives her a hug. Jenna’s skin has cleared up, and she’s fixed her eyebrows. Ethan stares for a minute before abruptly looking away. Damn, she got attractive.

Jenna flashes a knowing smile. “Have you seen my sister yet?”

“Yeah. She’s very… pregnant,” Ethan says. He adds sincerely, “Kate’s doing really well.”

“Cheers.” Jenna knocks her drink against his.

“How’s school going? You’re at, what? Columbia Law now?”

“Mhm. Just a lot of reading,” she says disinterestedly.

“Well I’m glad you got to make it back for Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving? No, I came for your party.” She brings up a leg and sits on it. “I was like, ‘No effing way – Ethan Wood’s gonna be in Michigan for five days only, and then he’s leaving for fucking Seoul? I have to see him!”

“Ha. Good to know I have at least one fan here.”

“What are you talking about? We adore you,” she drawls with excessive sentiment.

“Get the fuck off my porch.”

Jenna laughs. Ethan smiles and taps some ash off his cigarette.

“But, really. I think it’s cool what you’re doing,” she says.

“Tutoring rich kids in a highly-developed country?”

“Living at whatever pace you feel is fit.”

“What; you don’t think I’m going at the same pace as everyone else?”

“Come on, Ethan,” she looks at him bluntly. “But it doesn’t matter. Because you know what you’re doing.”

Ethan says nothing.

“You know, I wouldn’t have gone to Harvard if it weren’t for you.”

“Okay, you had me at ‘you know what you’re doing.’ This is too much.”

“I’m serious. Remember that time we went to pick up Kate from the airport, and her flight was delayed, so we went to McDonald’s?”

“Sure.”

“Well I had just gotten rejected from Harvard undergrad. Remember that? And I was gonna go to UM instead, but Harvard was my top choice, even though I knew it was out of reach.”

“I remember.”

“Well, you probably forgot what you said to me. But I was moping, so upset that I could barely eat my big mac combo—my god, I can’t believe I used to finish that shit—and you said, ‘so defer a year,’ like it was no big deal.”

“Damn. Well, you were easy.”

Jenna shoves him. “You went on to tell me about how your Junior year, you wanted to take my sister to Homecoming. But Kate was a Senior, and she had a boyfriend. And Amber whomever the fuck wanted to go with you, but you asked Kate instead. She rejected you, of course.” Jenna raises her finger, “A few months later though, she found her boyfriend cheating and dumped him. And a few months after that, you took her to Prom.”

Ethan nods, staring at the lawn. “I’m glad you held out.”

Jenna squeezes his hand. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Ethan looks at her. She stares up at him, a piece of her hair out of place and her small mouth curved downward. Ethan kisses Jenna. She tastes like Sprite and vodka. She kisses back. Her movements are modest, but he can feel that she’s been waiting for it. Ethan puts his tongue in Jenna’s mouth and squeezes her thigh. He thrusts his hand down the front of her jeans. She pushes him off.

Jenna looks at him, surprised, and then with pity. She stands up. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” she says and goes back inside.

Ethan drinks the remainder of his beer slowly. He feels the bubbles on his tongue and the lightness between his temples. It isn’t too chilly for a November night in Michigan. As long as there’ll be cute Korean girls, and he can get an American Lager at the bars in Seoul, he’ll be set.