Текст книги "Freeing Carter"

Автор книги: Nyrae Dawn

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

Chapter Seventeen

"Oh my God," Kira says from beside me. "Tell me she had that bruise before you left, Carter."

I don't have it in me to say no. I don't have it to tell her to go home either. There's nothing, nothing inside me right now. "Sara..."

Kira touches my arm and then runs for the stairs. I know I should do something. Be the one upstairs checking on Sara. Go over and try to help Mom, but I can't move. Am I broken? I feel it. Nothing on me will move.

Rolling over, Mom groans, reaching her hand over to the table. It flops around, reaching for something that isn't there. The bottle that fell to the floor.

And all of a sudden, I hate her. Hate everything about her. Hate that she can't get better. That she'd chosen this bottle over us. That she loved my dad so much she can't get over it. There have been times I've been mad at her, times where I hated what she does, or maybe thought I could one day hate her, but this is different. I really do hate her and I hate myself for it.

"She's okay. She's asleep in her room. I made sure the door was closed." Each of Kira's hands, touch each of my shoulders as she leans against me. Still, I don't move. Can't. "I'm sorry, Carter. So sorry."

But I can't talk either. I really do think I'm broken. That she broke me.

"What should we do?"

Her words push me into action. Loosen the ties, holding me in spot, but still not freeing me. "I'll take care of it. I'll put her to bed and tomorrow it'll be like nothing happened." I step out of her grasp. "You can go. I don't..." What? I don't want her to see? It's not like she hasn't seen enough. It's not like she doesn't know. I shake my head. "You shouldn't have to help."

"Carter." She's in front of me now. "I know I don't have to, I want to. You don't have to do this on your own. Not anymore."

Does it make me weak that I sag in relief? Because I do. I don't want to do it alone. I don't want to do it at all, but knowing someone will take some of the weight? Well, it doesn't make it better, but easier to handle. Reaching out, I let my finger travel down the side of her face. She steps closer and our foreheads come together, like they always do.

"I hate her."

"You don't."

"I'm scared that I do." I breathe her air for another breath and then pull away, making my way to Mom. "Ma, come on. It's time to go to bed." Bending I try to pull her up, but it's as though my words have awoken something in her. Her eyes pop open and she pushes my hand away.

"I'm fine."

My stomach lurches. I have to swallow the urge to vomit. "You're so not fucking fine, now come on." When I try to grab her, she slaps my hands away, pushing me and fighting me in a way she never has before.

"Leave me alone. I can take care of myself." Her anger has taken away her typical slurred speech. My anger has taken away any need to be soft with her.

"Prove it! If you can take care of yourself, I wouldn't be cleaning you up, again." My grip on her is harder than I've ever touched her, than I've ever touched another girl before and it's right on her bruise. Mom cries out, her scream piercing me.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." And then Kira's there. Standing between us. Her eyes full of tears. Her face wet with them too.

"We need to call someone. Let me call Bill."

Fear spikes inside me. "He'll take Sara away from us. I can't." But I know that's not true either. There's no way I can't do something this time. "Just let me take care of it. I can do it."

Slipping around Kira I bend down, eye to eye with her. Funny, there are tears in Mom's eyes too. Everyone is crying but me. "Mom, please. Let me help you. We'll get you to bed and then everything will be okay."

Her eyes meet mine, sad. And I can't hate her. Not Mom. Because I can see that she loves me, how much she hates herself for what she's doing. But it still doesn't make it okay. This isn't the way to deal. Shouldn't be. Not for her, Travis, or anyone else. "Carter..."

Without letting her finish, I lift her. She's dead weight in my arms. I feel the shoulder of my shirt getting wet with her tears. She's sobbing by now, and it hurts so much to see her like this.

When we get to the top of the stairs, Kira stays out of her room, but it feels good to have her at my back. Knowing she's there, lingering in the doorway if I need her. If Sara needs her.

I almost drop Mom when I try to put her on her feet. She stumbles, trying to catch herself on me. Her nails dig into the skin of my arm.

"It's not fair! Why did they take him away from me?" she screams, swinging again. "Why does my dad hate me? Why can't I have Tommy? I'm tired. So tired. And you'll leave me soon too, Carter. How can I do it without you?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I don't know." I can't stop saying the words over and over as I fight for her arms. As I wrap my arms around her from behind so she can't swing and hit anymore. You'll leave me soon too, Carter. How can I leave her like this?

Mom's whole body collapses. Cries echoing in her room.

"Do you need help?" Kira's voice whispers from behind me.

"No, just stay. And close the door so she doesn't wake up Sara."

That's when she starts to heave. I jerk her around before she vomits on her bed. There's a trail of it behind us as I help her to the bathroom. How many people have to hold their mom's hair back while they puke? I should be doing this for my girlfriend while we're at a party or even helping my best friend at a dance, but not this. Not her.

She cries and pukes. Cries and pukes and I sit there with her. Kira's behind me, alternating between rubbing my back and walking out to check on Sara.

"Are you sure we shouldn't call someone?" she asks later. We're in the bathroom, on the floor. She hasn't thrown up for about twenty minutes now. Mom's sleeping, her head resting on the toilet seat.

"No. I think she's okay. If she does it again, we will." Wrong or right? I don't know. I've never known which side of the line I stand on. I want to be on the right one, but I just don't know anymore.

For another fifteen minutes, we sit in silence. "I...I think she's okay now. She'll sleep it off." I stand up to lift Mom again, but Kira stops me.

"Hold on." Plucking a washcloth from the wrack, she wets it and then wipes Mom's face and hands.

"Thanks." My eyes won't meet hers. My girl just had to wash puke from my mom's face. It breaks another piece of me inside.

Mom's easy to lift this time. I feel her breath against my cheek as I lower her to the bed. On the way out, I grab the monitor. Even though Sara's too old for one, Mom still keeps a monitor so she can hear everything that happens in her room.

The second Kira closes Mom's door, I fall against the wall. And cry. Kira's seen my mom try to beat me up, cleaned up her vomit, and now I'm crying, crying in front of her.

"It's okay. It's okay," she repeats, hugging and kissing me. But it's a lie. A liar like me should know a lie when I hear one right? Because I know it's not okay. I know what I'm going to have to do and I hate it.

Fighting the tears, needing something else to ground me, I kiss Kira. She lets me, even kisses me back. Turning, I pin her to the wall, kissing her deeply. More, more, more. All I can think is I need more. Need her. Need to forget.

I kiss down her neck. Her collarbone. All the while, she lets me. My hand slides under her shirt, up her belly and traces the edge of her bra, only stopping when her hand grabs my wrist. Immediately, I pull back.

"I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me. I just want to forget, but I don't want to use you. Not for that."

"I know. Carter, that's bad. What I just saw is really bad..."

I shake my head. "Not now. I know, but I can't. Not right now."

Her mouth is turned down, her eyes bright red as she looks at me, making me want to hide. Hide my weaknesses.

"I need to check on Sara again."

She nods and steps away. Quietly, I sneak into my sister's room. She's out cold, Barney wrapped in her arms. The picture Kira drew pinned above her bed. For her, I know I have to do what's right. "I won't let anything happen to you, Twig." And then I sneak out of her room, closing the door behind me.

"You wanna take my truck? I can't leave, obviously." I don't even know why I just said that.

With a shake of her head, Kira pulls her arms out from behind her back. She's holding my basketball that she must have grabbed from my room. "Play me."

Her words are patches, trying to cover up some of the scrapes and bruises inside me. I need to forget and she's found a way to give that to me. "Okay." She tosses me the ball and we head downstairs. It's late, but I don't care. We leave the front door open, and I plug Sara's monitor into the outlet on the porch, making sure the volume is all the way up.

"I'm wearing the right shoes this time, Coach." More patches. More band-aides.

This is what I need to forget. With each smack of the ball hitting the pavement, each time I spin around Kira, make a shot, or steal the ball from her, I'm free. Any other time I would go easy on her, but I can't and I know she doesn't expect it tonight. She's here to free me. To let me float away from my life for a little while. Each time the ball soars through the air, it's really me.

Did Dad use basketball the way I do? Was it his escape from life, if he needed it? Was it always there when nothing else went right? As I jump, shoot and fade backward, as the ball goes forward, I wonder about Travis. He'd be there for me too. Be what basketball is to me, if I ever would have trusted him. Just like I would have been to him if he'd done the same. The way Kira's here, because I let her in, panting and chasing me around my basketball court because she knows it's what I need.

I catch the ball and shoot again, but this time it bounces off the rim and goes into the bushes. When she tries to go after it, I stop her, taking her gently by the wrist and pulling her to me. "You're the girl who took the time to see what I tried to hide from everyone else. The girl who broke into a Jacuzzi with me, to steal my secrets and give me yours. You're the one who looks gorgeous with purple hair, orange hair, or black hair. You're just as comfortable in combat boots as heels or my Nikes."

I step closer to her. "You're the one who helped me with my homework. You're the straight A student who loves to dance on tables. You love Lana like a mother. You love my little sister like she's yours and never make her feel weird or different. You're the one who doesn't think twice to wipe vomit off my mom's mouth, or try anything new. You're the one who wore a jersey with my name on it and made me win the game. When no one else did, you saw me and you drew me. That's who you are. It doesn't matter about your mom. Meet her or not, who she is has nothing to do with who you are. There's no one else like you. I—"

Kira's finger on my mouth stops me, just like she did the first night we kissed. "Shh. Don't say it in the heat of the moment. Not tonight when your emotions are wild. You might regret it. I'll think you only said it because you're so raw from everything else. Just...don't."

Nodding, I smile. "I wouldn't regret it. Never. But I can wait, too."

"Mommy! Help!" Sara's voice breaks the night.

"Nightmares," I say to Kira before I run inside and up the stairs. I push into Sara's bedroom and am by her bed. "Shhh, Twig. I'm here."

"Closet. Look, Carter."

I walk over to the closet and look inside, pushing the clothes out of the way. "See? Nothing here."

She looks over the side of the bed. "Down there. Look, Carter."

Bending down, I look under the bed too. "It's just us. No one's here. I promise." Promise I'll take care of her too.

"Where's Mommy? I want Mommy." Sara starts to cry. Anger threatens me again, but I fight it down.

"She's sick, Twig. Mommy doesn't feel good. Can I hang out with you?"

I hand her, her glasses and she puts them on, then shouts, "Kira! Kira!" Sara starts bouncing up and down on the bed.

"Hey, kid. Oh, look you hung my picture up. It looks pretty up there." Kira shrugs at me, unsure of what to do.

"You're pretty. Oh, can we have a sleepover? Please." The rest of her words are excited mumbles.

"Umm, I don't know if she can, Twig. I think her mom wants her home." But I don't want her to leave. It's like water on the patches, making them peel up on the corners.

"Carter..." I walk over to her. "I can stay. Lana's not home. I don't want to leave you."

I exhale. "I don't want you to go either. I'll be right back." I run into my room, grab a couple pillows and blankets, and then make a pallet on the floor next to Sara's bed. She's mumbling and laughing the whole time, her nightmare forgotten.

Kira kicks off her shoes, and I turn off the light. Sara's nightlight makes it so we can still see each other. With a shy smile, she bends to climb into our pallet.

"Me. Me. Kira sleep with me!"

"Sara..."

"It's okay," Kira says. "I don't mind." And then climbs in my sister's bed. I'm a little jealous, but lay on the floor, trying to push it aside. The room is silent for a few minutes, giving me time to replay the night. Mom bruised. Did she fall? Hit herself somehow. And me. Mom actually tried to hit me.

I jump a little when I feel something in my hair, but relax when I realize it's Kira's hand from above me. "She's out already." Kira keeps her voice low so she doesn't wake Sara.

"What if I wasn't here?" The question just hits me. "Sara has a lot of nightmares and she knows. What if I wasn't here for her? What if she couldn't wake her up and she was scared and I didn't protect her?"

"You were here, Carter. That's what matters. You were here for her. You took care of her. Of them both.

This time. I was here this time.

Her hand is still playing with my hair, but I grab it instead. Like always, our hands fit so well together. It's uncomfortable with her being higher than me. Probably for her too, but I'll hold on as long as she does.

"I'm tired of lying. I'm tired of not knowing if I'm doing the right thing. Of pretending. I'm...tired of doing it on my own."

For the next few minutes, the only sound is our breaths: mine, Kira's and Sara's, until finally she speaks. "You know what you have to do."

"I do."

"And I do, too. I need to see her. I mean, I know you're right. I am who I am, but I think I need to see her. Just so I can make peace with it. So I can be...free of my past. Does that sound stupid?"

Free. "No. It sounds perfect."

I squeeze her hand, holding it until we fall asleep. Even then, we don't let go.

***

I'm up with the sun. Neither Kira nor Sara wake up as I fill a bag with some of Sara's clothes. They're still out when I leave for my room to pack my stuff too. My heart is hammering. My hands are sweating. I don't know if I'm abandoning her. If I'm betraying her. But I know I can't handle it on my own anymore. I need help. Sara deserves better.

I put our stuff in my truck. Check on Mom one last time, plug her phone into the charger and put my note underneath it. "I love you, Mom," I tell her. She doesn't stir, but I hope she hears. Hope she'll believe it.

Sneaking back into Sara's room, I wake Kira first. "I need to get out of here before Mom wakes up." Otherwise, I don't know if I can do it.

Nodding, Kira climbs out of Sara's bed, squeezes my shoulder, and waits as I wake up my little sister. "Twig. It's time to get up, kid."

She moans, rolls over and peeks up at me. I hand her the glasses from the table. "We're playing a game. Want to pretend we're going on a trip? We can pretend it's like that one time we went to see Grandma and Grandpa Shaw. Remember how we got up really early in the morning and had McDonalds for breakfast?"

Excitedly, her head nods up and down.

"We can do that again and after breakfast, we'll go to your daddy's house. I haven't had a sleepover there in a long time. Sound cool?" When she nods again, I playfully tug her hair.

"Grab Barney, okay? You can even go in your pajamas." My body aches. I feel like I've been playing basketball for twenty-four hours straight, but I push through it.

When Sara stands up, I grab Kira's drawing off the wall. Kira grabs my hand as soon as I step into the hallway. With one last look at Mom's closed bedroom door, we're gone.

Chapter Eighteen

Two days later, I meet Travis at the basketball court. When I didn't come to school, he texted and I told him to meet me here.

"Okay. You missed school. Kira missed school. Is there something going on I need to know about, ya lucky bastard?" He tosses the ball at me, but doesn't come too close. Probably because we haven't really talked much since the night of the dance.

I dribble the ball between my legs, jump and shoot. Travis tosses it back and I start to dribble again. When I pass it back to him, he takes over where I left off, dribbling and shooting. Right about now, this whole talking thing is feeling overrated. It's a lot easier when, in between confessions, I get to kiss the person I'm confessing to.

Without a word to Travis, I walk over and fall down to sit on the curb. My arms rest on my legs, as I play with a pebble I picked up. But this is it. I'm done being weak. Done lying. Done always trying to do the right thing and never knowing if I am, so when Travis sits next to me, I say, "My mom's an alcoholic."

Travis mumbles "shit" while bouncing the ball from one hand to another. "Dude, I know."

The rock falls out of my fingers, rolling on the ground. "You know?" How could he know?

Travis shrugs. "I've been your best friend for like ten years. I come over to your house all the time. I've seen things. Smelled things." He shrugs again. "I've just known."

So obviously I'm not as good a liar as I thought. I don't know if that makes me happy or not. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Um, why didn't you?" He puts the ball on his lap and leans on it. "I just figured you didn't want to talk about it. If you did, you'd bring it up to me, ya know?"

He's right. I wouldn't have wanted to talk about it. I still don't, but now I kind of have to.

"That's why..." Travis groans. "That's why I feel like shit about the dance. You shouldn't have had to deal with that. I'm just...all screwed up about my parents, but I'm dealing. It'll be okay."

Picking up the pebble again, I say, "I'm here. If you want to talk. I can't do the drinking thing though. I'm done with that."

"Me, too. And thanks. So, what happened? If you want to talk about it."

"Ball," I say and he hands it over. It feels good just to hold the leather in my hand. "A lot. I don't really want to go into it all, but it ended with Kira and I sneaking Sara out of the house at six in the morning and we've been at Bill's ever since. I haven't talked to Mom. She told Bill she needed a couple days." Saying it makes me feel like I'm cracking apart. That Mom is digging everything out of me that matters, because she needs a couple days, away from me. After everything, she can't even talk to me. Does she hate me? There's a piece of me who still hates myself.

"Damn... Kira?"

"L.A. Just left today. She wanted to wait, but she needed to go."

"That sucks. I'm sorry, about everything."

I hand him back the ball. "Me, too. For your parents and everything else." Pushing off the curb, I stand up, and then hold out my fist. Travis bumps it with his. "Come on. Game on Friday and you need all the practice you can get."

He laughs. "Not me. I'm a kickass center. Beating down anyone who comes into my zone." But he's standing and following me anyway.

***

Bill straightens his glasses, making me know he has something big to say. I lean against his kitchen table, waiting for him to tell me what else is going wrong. "What is it? Just tell me." Don't let her hate me. Let me have done the right thing.

"Your mom wants to know if she can talk to you. I'm going to take Sara out for a bit, and then bring her back so Delilah can talk to her, too."

Mom wants to know if she can talk to me? What a screwed up situation. She shouldn't have to ask, but I'm glad she did. "Yeah. I... Do you know what's going to happen?"

Bill takes a couple steps toward me. "I do, but I think it's better that you wait for her to tell you, but I want you to know, no matter what, we'll make it work out. You're welcome in my home as long as you need to be here and," he holds out his hand, "you're a good man, Carter. I'm proud of you. I know I'm not your father, but I do love you. I'd be honored to have a son like you."

My eyes sting again, but I try to concentrate on shaking Bill's hand instead. I'm so done with the tears. "Thanks. For taking us in and everything else."

"It's not a problem, son. You're a part of my family, too." He looks toward his hallway. "I'm going to grab Sara and we'll head out. Your mom's waiting outside and when we leave, she'll be in."

My voice begs me to shout at him. To tell him no, that I changed my mind and I'm not ready to talk to her yet, but I swallow it down. I have to do this.

Sara and Bill leave a few minutes later. My leg is bouncing like crazy as I sit at the kitchen table waiting for Mom. When I hear the front door creak, I freeze. I don't know if I can do this. I keep seeing her hands come at me when she tried to fight me. The tears and the screams overloading my brain.

And then she's there and I don't have a choice. Even though I'm looking at her, I don't say anything and she doesn't say anything, but I notice she looks older somehow. Tired. She's wearing a long sleeve shirt and I can't help but wonder how the bruise looks.

Mom lets out a breath and I can hear how shaky it is, and then she comes over and sits down at the table with me. "I'm going into inpatient care for a bit."

The ache in my chest balloons so much I think it could make me burst. Inpatient. Committed? Still, I can't make myself speak.

"I have...I have a lot of issues to work through, Carter, and they can help me the most."

"What happens there?" I mumble.

"Detox, first. I'll be in therapy, too. I should have done this a long time ago, because of your grandpa and then loosing Tommy. I need to learn how to deal with it all. If I had, things wouldn't have gotten to where they are now. I haven't been dealing and above anyone else, you've suffered for it. I'll never forgive myself—" She chokes out the words. I want to tell her it's okay, but I know now it's not. I used to think the only thing that mattered is that she didn't mean it, that she had to deal with a lot and that she deserved a way to unwind. It's not true. It's not okay. None of it.

"What about the store? Sara and I?"

"Your dad's parents are coming to help. They'll be here in a couple of days."

My eyes stretch wide. "You called them?"

Mom gives me a sad smile. "I can't hide anymore. I can't deny it. And they love us. They want to help. They're going to stay at the house. You can stay there with them or—"

"No." No way. "Sara's going to be freaked out enough. I want to stay here with her."

For the first time today, she starts crying. I'm not sure what I said to make her upset.

"I knew you'd say that. I wish Tommy could see you now. You're better than the both of us put together."

Those are the words that break me. Anger? Pain? A combination? I don't know. My vision blurs. My chest feels like it's crushed it. I can't hold any of it back any more. Because if I was so good, if she knows that so much, why are we here? Why are we dealing with this? "You hit me. All I wanted to do was carry you up the stairs and you. Hit. Me. You were bruised and passed out with my little sister upstairs! You told me I'd leave you, for what? Going away to school?"

I shove myself to my feet so hard, the chair falls over. I don't pick it up and she doesn't defend herself so I keep going. Letting out years of pent-up pain. "Do you know what it feels like to see your mom drunk and passed out? To carry her up the stairs? To know where she hides bottles? Did you know I hear it in your voice? Smell it in the house? I'm seventeen years-old and I'm a fucking expert on alcoholics!"

I can hardly see because of tears and anger. My muscles contract, begging me to do something to help them release. "I call you just to hear your voice and know if you've been drinking. I pay attention when you wake up, how you wake up, so I know. I watch the stupid light under your door so I know how late you stay up. Do you get that? Do you know how that feels? I watched my girlfriend wipe vomit off my mom’s face."

"Carter—"

"No! I'm not done. I've lied to my friends, to Bill, to myself. I was scared for Sara, but more scared for you! I kept your secrets. I hated you. I hated myself and you didn't care! You kept drinking. You told me you'd quit, but you didn't. You chose boozing it up over me! You cared more about your fix than what it did to us."

She's crying and I'm crying, but there's so much anger too. I'm hot, sweating. My hands itch for a basketball. Or to hit a wall. Anything to distract me from her. "Sara was there Mom. Sara." My voice is hardly over a whisper now. "What if I couldn't protect her?"

"Oh, Carter."

I lean against the wall, and slide down. Mom walks over, kneeling in front of me, but still not touching me. "It's not your job to protect her. It's mine. I am the one who's failed you. Failed her. Not you. Not ever. You handled this better than anyone else could, and I swear to you. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I promise you, I will get better for you and Sara. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make this up to you."

"I can't." I shake my head. "I can't do it anymore. I can't handle it anymore. I won't. This is it. You have to do it. And I don't know... I still don't know..." Does it make me a jerk that I don't know if I can forgive her? That I want to, but I'm scared, too?

"I will. I will. I love you, Carter. So much and I don't expect you to forgive me. Not now, maybe not ever, but I do love you. And I hope... I hope I didn't ruin your love for me."

She didn't. Couldn't. "That's why it hurts so much..."

"Oh, baby." She's crying harder now. "I'm so very sorry for what I've done to you." She reaches for my hand, and then stops. "Can I?"

It surprises me, but I actually want it. I nod my head and she pulls me to her. Hugs me the way she did when I was a kid and got hurt on the court. Hugs me like I'm Sara when she has a nightmare.

"I love you. I'm so sorry. I love you."

I don't say it back and I don't think she expects me to. I just let her hug me. The tighter she holds, the more she's letting me go. She's finally setting me free.