Carter Page 3

  I stared down at my clothes before looking back at her. “How do you mean?”

  “You look like a whore. You look… like me.”

  I blinked at her, and suddenly I felt awkward as hell standing here. My eyes skimmed the room briefly, taking in the dishevelled sheets and stained carpet. It stunk badly in here. Of alcohol, smoke and… sweat.

  “Leah,” she continued, capturing my attention. “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “I’m not dressed in anything different.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I’ll change.”

  She coughed lightly. “Russell won’t let you.”

  Well, what did she want me to do? I almost rolled my eyes at her. It wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter. I dressed in what I was given. She knew that.

  She let out a shaky breath. “Don’t be like me, Leah. Y’promise?”

  I nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

  “Don’t… be like me.”

  “Okay.”

  Then she repeated it a third time, but the words died off and her eyes closed. She passed out, and I had to remove the lit cigarette from in-between her fingers and put it out on the ashtray on the night able.

  I turned around and hurried out of there. Shut inside my room, I spent the rest of the day eating my fish and chips and reading out of my shelf of ninety-nine cent books I bought from the local used bookstore around the corner. I was smitten for raunchy romance, even if I was too young to fully grasp the concept of love. I’d have bought other genres, or books from acclaimed authors, if I wasn’t so strict with what I spent. But when you’re given a fifteen dollar a month allowance, making every dollar stretch as far as it can go is pretty important.

  It was actually a small hobby of mine, counting coins and recording what I had, hoping to hit a hundred just for the sake of actually having a hundred dollars in my hands. Money had always been a beautiful thing to me, and I loved numbers.

  In a world that had gone to shit, numbers made sense.

  It was around midnight when I was finally dozing off, with the smutty novel spread open across my chest, that I heard a tapping sound coming from the window. For a couple minutes I stirred only slightly, thinking I was just half-dreaming the sound. But the more rapping there was, the more I stirred, until finally I opened my eyes in the darkness and slowly moved to the window. Pulling aside the bed sheet I used as a curtain, I looked out.

  My bedroom faced the side of Carter’s trailer, and I saw nothing out of the ordinary. All the lights in his trailer were off. Confused by the noise, I rubbed my eyes thinking I’d just made it up in my head, but when I opened them again, I finally noticed the small gift bag on the windowsill.

  Cautiously, I unlocked the window and pulled it up just enough to grab it. Once in my hands, I hurriedly opened it and looked inside. There wasn’t any gift bag paper. In fact, the actual bag itself still had its fifty cent price tag on it, and I instantly knew this was done in the hands of a male. I knew who that male was straight away when I saw the contents.

  I raced to the bed and tipped the bag upside down. Five bottles of nail polish fell out, and I grabbed at each of them hastily. Turning on the lamp next to my small bed, I stared at them individually. They were all different colours, but one of them stood out. I grabbed it and spun it under the light, smiling like a fool.

  This was the exact one Graeme had thrown on the ground. Carter had returned for it, and he had replaced it for me. And in the process he’d bought me more. Nobody had ever done this. I’d never been treated to gifts in my life, not even from Uncle Russell on my birthday. That’s why I cherished the nail polish Cheryl had given me so much. I always felt like an intruder. An unwanted entity that survived without love. Like a wilting flower deprived of sun, I was wasting away alone most of my childhood.

  Until this. Until Carter. Until he showed me a tender and giving piece of his soul I wanted to keep all to myself.

  I never wanted someone more than I wanted him in that moment.

  Carter

  Dirty blonde hair.

  Deep brown eyes.

  Sun kissed skin.

  Pink lips plump.

  I should never have let her in.

  That was the first strike against me.

  Five

  I watched him sing every single day by the creek. We sat under the shade during that summer. Me, with a notepad and pen in each hand, and him, with his guitar in both of his. I watched him create music from scratch, and I hastily scribbled away the lyrics he recited to me. Sometimes they worked, other times they didn’t. Sometimes he’d write an entire song and then crumple up the paper and throw it in the stream.

  We argued a lot about it. I didn’t want him to butcher his songs by throwing them away right after they were done. They were pieces of him floating into the stream, never to be realized again. It upset me more than it should have, but it was only because I was passionate about his music, probably more than he was.

  “It’s shit,” he told me angrily one day. “They’re not any good. Just because you like me, it doesn’t mean you have to lie about my music.”

  “I don’t like you,” I denied, flushing from the realization he read me far too easily than I’d have liked. “You can sing, and you’re being really stupid for throwing away your work like it’s nothing!”

  “That’s because it is nothing.”

  “One day you’re going to realize how untrue that is. One day, Carter.”

  We grew obsessed with music. Not just making it, but listening to it too. With a part time job working as a shelf stacker, he’d use what he earned to buy CDs and a stereo. When he was burnt out from writing and singing, we’d sit back and listen to the eclectic variety of music he put on.

  I got comfortable with Carter. While I still fantasized about his lips on mine almost every minute I was around him, I was capable of looking past that enough to just enjoy his company. I realized very soon that I would never get him in the way I wanted. He saw me as a friend – hell, maybe even a sister – and it gutted me. It gutted me every time he cut our time together short to see a girl.

  For a whole year, I pined for the boy that had stolen my heart with his soft voice and beautiful face. But I did my best to look on the bright side.

  Besides Rome, I made a new best friend.

  *

  2004

  15 years old

  I pressed my ear against the bedroom door, hoping Russell and Cheryl had finally gone to bed. Lately Russell would open the door at random times and look in at me. I didn’t like it at all. He’d never done this before. Never cared to check in on me no matter the hour in the day. I didn’t know what he was expecting to find, but he was messing up my night time ritual of seeing Carter before I went back to my bedroom.

  This night Russell had already checked in on me twice before he got drunk and taken Cheryl for a dirty round of sex in the living room. My stomach still roiled after hearing it. It was so obvious Cheryl wanted nothing to do with him, but she clung on to dear life when he finally finished and threw her the drugs that would forever ruin her life.

  At this point in my life, I understood everything. I knew enough about their relationship to know Cheryl had never wanted to be married to him. She’d let it slip at times when she was so unbelievably drugged out and alone. She’d get emotional, crying that she had nowhere to go. That he had used her and forced her into the marriage only to cage her into a lifestyle she had grown dependent on.

  I didn’t care. I hated her. I hated him. I hated everything about their life and how happy they were to see me rot away.

  It was sick, and I was already counting down the years I’d get away. I daydreamed what it would be like to run away with Carter. Maybe when I turned sixteen I’d kiss this place goodbye and move into the city and life would be a happily ever after. Carter would finally take notice of me in the way I still longed for him to, and he’d finally proclaim his love for me, and we’d be the happiest couple in the world.
/>
  Having hope in a hopeless situation was all that kept me moving at times.

  Hearing Russell’s snores coming from the bedroom, I knew the coast was clear. I quickly threw on a sweatshirt and took my ponytail out. I finger combed through the long dirty blonde strands of my hair in front of my small mirror hung behind the door. I put on my house slippers after that and opened the window. I slipped out into the crispy cold air and hurried across the yard to where Carter’s bedroom was. His blinds were closed, which meant he was either asleep, or he was busying himself with the trashy magazines he’d recently gotten into and didn’t think I knew were tucked under his mattress.

  I don’t need to explain how I knew about this. I already mentioned I was snoopy.

  Regardless of what he was doing, I didn’t care. We’d gotten into this habit, of either him knocking on my window, or me inviting myself through his. I was doing this much later than usual, as it was past midnight and I’d never snuck out this late. As I approached his half cracked window, I froze when I heard the soft sounds of music flowing out.

  He never listened to music this late. It was unusual to say the least. Leaning into his window, I found a crack through the blinds and peered in. Instantly, the blood in my body pumped faster and anger spiked through my being.

  He was on his bed and a girl was on top of him. They were having a make-out session that could rival all make-out sessions combined. French kissing, his hands roamed her half-naked body.

  I felt my stomach plummet. That bed was being marked by some random girl I’d never seen before. It was probably going to smell like her too.

  Tears stung my eyes, but I held them back. I wasn’t a crier. That had never been me. I was a tough cookie. I mean, look at my life; you needed thick skin to handle the shit I did.

  Operating on anger, I grabbed his window and slid it up. Without waiting a beat, I quickly climbed through it, shoving aside the blinds and practically breaking them in the process. Their mouths broke free and the girl’s head turned in my direction, her gorgeous blue eyes popping out as I stood there, panting from anger.

  “What the hell?” she squeaked out, immediately jumping off of him to grab her shirt. She shoved it against her chest, hiding her giant boobs – boobs that made my average ones seem all the more sad – and gawked at me with horror.

  “What is she doing here, Carter?” she hollered.

  But Carter didn’t respond. He was sighing and shaking his head, his eyes directed to the ceiling. Avoiding her now malicious stare, I pointed to the window and growled out harshly, “Get out!”

  Her jaw dropped and she looked at Carter for back up. But he was still not saying a word, and it had quickly dawned on her that I was in charge now.

  “Do something,” she stressed to him. “Get rid of her!”

  He wasn’t going to do that. I knew my place in his life. I was far more important than some random girl he’d picked up. I was taking advantage of this, I know, but in my heart he was mine and I wasn’t going to share him, especially in a place that I felt was ours. This bedroom held too many memories for me to ignore. We’d talk for hours until the sun came up, and I was not willing to taint it with some random chick’s touch.

  “Are you deaf?” I snapped out, my nostrils flaring as my anger continued to climb. “I said get out!”

  She jumped at the spike in my voice and hurriedly threw her shirt on. Her face was red from embarrassment as she slipped her flats on. Angrily, she stood up and looked down at Carter. “You’re an asshole, Carter Matheson!”

  Yeah, yeah, we’d heard this how many times before?

  Then she was shoving past me to get to the window. She climbed out clumsily and I listened to her footsteps scurrying away. Now that she was gone, I crossed my arms and turned to him. If I was attempting to look intimidating I was failing spectacularly because Carter was amused. His blue eyes glanced at my face and his mouth opened up into a wide grin.

  “God, Leah, you are being over the top,” he remarked.

  “I’m being over the top? How could you do this to me? Sneaking girls into our room –”

  “It’s my bedroom, Leah –”

  “You knew I was coming around!”

  He shook his head, disagreeing. “No, I didn’t. It’s after midnight. Since when have you ever shown up this late? I didn’t think you were going to come around, so I called Pomposa up.”

  I froze. The hell did he just call that bowling ball chested girl?

  “Pomposa?” I snarled out with disgust. “You chose a girl with the name Pomposa over me?”

  “I didn’t choose anybody over you.”

  “You did with Pomposa.”

  He burst out laughing, and the infectious sound already began to warm me up. I swallowed back the smile twitching at my lips. It only took Carter to laugh to make me forget why I was so angry.

  He motioned to the bed. “Come on, Angel. Get in.”

  “No,” I refused.

  “Come on. Don’t make me beg.”

  “Would you really beg?”

  “For you? Absolutely.”

  God, he did things to my heart.

  I stood my ground for a measly ten seconds, and then I went over to him and collapsed next to him so that we were shoulder to shoulder. I stared up at the ceiling and shook my head in disbelief.

  “Why didn’t you come to my window?” I asked, my voice giving away my disappointment.

  “I did,” he answered. “But I heard your uncle moving around. I thought he was going to be up for a while and that you wouldn’t be able to get away.”

  “You should have said something. At least then I’d have known you were there. Even if it was something little. I would have told you I was coming.”

  He sighed again. His face turned in my direction, and I could feel how hard he was staring at my profile. I kept my eyes pinned to the water stained ceiling, ignoring the way my heart hiccupped in my chest at his attention.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

  I was too stubborn to let this go. I turned my head to him and stared into his eyes as I retorted, “How would you feel if I brought a boy into my bedroom?”

  Without skipping a beat, he replied, “That’s not my business. You can do what you want. I’m your moral support, the shoulder you cry on when the piece of shit breaks your heart.”

  I studied him carefully, waiting for signs he was lying in that statement. He appeared amused still, but I thought I could feel his body stiffening beside me. Maybe it was in my head because nothing in his face spoke of the same jealousy that probably showed in mine. I swear I heard a piece of my heart snapping. How many more years of being his best friend would it take for him to look at me any differently?

  “Fine,” I whispered to him, turning away before he could see the glossy look in my eyes. “Well, I’m going to tell you never to do that again.”

  “Never do what again?”

  “You know what. Never bring a girl into this room. You do it one more time and I’m never going to step foot in here again. This is our place. I’m not going to share, Carter. You wanna do the nasty, then do it in a ditch.”

  “How am I going to convince a girl to kiss me in a ditch, Leah?”

  “Oh, please. You can take her to a laundromat and she’d think it was the most romantic place ever.”

  “Are there any laundromats around?”

  “There’s one down the road, but you should carry a knife with you when you take her there. Some shady people lurking around.”

  “I’ll consider that when I take the next girl there,” he joked.

  “See? I can be helpful.”

  When he didn’t respond, I glanced at him. He was smiling wistfully, and I would have given an arm and a leg to know what he was thinking. What the hell was putting that smile on his face? Why was he so difficult to read?

  It wasn’t fair how much he kept his thoughts to himself. I might have to train myself to do the same t
hing.

  “Is Russell still checking up on you?” he then asked, that smile morphing into a frown.

  “Yeah,” I answered. “He checked up on me twice tonight. I don’t know what his problem is.”

  “He knows you’ve been seeing me. I bet you he’s trying to catch you in the act. Be careful with him. I don’t trust him at all.”

  “I don’t trust him either, but he’s never been all that bad to me.”

  “Never underestimate what certain people are capable of. If he’s not good to anybody else, it’s only a matter of time he won’t be good to you. Just keep an eye on what’s happening around you and let me know if anything ever happens. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

  He was being extremely clear about this, and I nodded my head immediately to cool off whatever anger was brimming at the surface in him in regards to my uncle. It was like he knew something I didn’t, and I would have asked if I had a chance at getting a straight answer. But Carter would have told me by now if he wanted me to know.

  “Good,” he muttered under his breath.

  We’d lain there for a while in silence. It was never uncomfortable. His anger faded away quickly and he was grabbing at my hand now and squeezing each finger. It was something we’d been doing for years, and it felt damn good.

  I stared at him as he did it. His face was relaxed, his lips curling just a tad at the end. He was so beautiful to me, but I was still hurt at what I witnessed.

  “Did you sing to her?” I wondered out loud as he squeezed my middle finger.

  “Did I look like I was singing to her?” he responded, chuckling.

  I frowned. “You were kissing the hell out of her.”

  “Absolutely. Can’t blame me.”

  I shut my eyes briefly. Why were guys so detached? How could they kiss a girl and toss them aside? I couldn’t understand it.

  “Don’t read too much into it,” he then went on to say. “She’s not that good at it. I was pretty disappointed if I’m going to be honest.”

  “How could someone not be good at kissing?”