Carter (2 page)

He was exceptional with his hands. He was good with instruments, had been the school band drummer throughout grade school, and he could draw anything and everything. Just give him a pencil – it didn’t have to be a good pencil either – and watch the fireworks explode.

We sought each other out during recesses and lunch. We sort of just fit together naturally, two unwanted souls among a sea of judgmental assholes. I didn’t mind it at all. Rome was very soft on the eyes anyways. His dark hair and green eyes would one day slay the ladies, but until then… we were loners, together.

So yeah, there you go. That was most of my experience right now. Fending off bullies by being a passive little wimp and hanging around a kid that was just as socially outcast as me.

It was no wonder I was clinging on to this bad boy. Carter was a guy that would never have blinked in my direction had he not witnessed me maul a bully over like a freaking bulldog. He could have anyone he wanted. Hell, I was there to witness it from time to time. There were many nights I’d seen him leave the house during the evenings, and sometimes there were girls there waiting for him out front of his home. Other times there weren’t, but he’d always come back after midnight, slipping into his bedroom window while I watched through the crack of my poor excuse of a curtain.

He’d be out enjoying himself, and I was inside my prison, shut inside my room, acting like a complete stalker Fatal Attraction style.

“So…” I started, clearing my throat as I searched around us for something to talk about. I didn’t want him to go.

Oh, God, please never go.

“I’ll be at the creek,” he suddenly said, a cocky smile forming at his lips. “And since you follow me around like a crazy person and all, I expect you’ll be there.”

I froze, my eyes widening as I stared up at him in horror. What… Did he…. Oh no. He knew I watched him? How long had he known?

Christ, Leah.
My brain droned on.
You’re not as stealthy as you think.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said casually. “I’ve always known you were there. I just didn’t say anything. Didn’t want you to feel weird.”

“I still feel weird,” I whispered, clasping my hands together nervously.

He chuckled before he flashed me those heart stopping eyes and replied, “But it’d have been weirder if I’d caught you in the act, right? I’ll spare you that trauma. I’m ready to have my only audience in sight for once anyways.”

I felt a pleasurable chill run down my spine. He disarmed me. I wanted him so much and I didn’t even understand what that really even meant, or why I even felt this way to begin with.

Coming a little closer to me, he leaned down and whispered, “I’ll see you in ten minutes, Leah.”

“Yeah,” I softly muttered as he walked off in the direction of his home and disappeared inside it.

I didn’t waste time. I hurried to the creek, half of me dying from the humiliation of being caught snooping, and the other half praising whatever deity I believed in at that time for making him act so normal about it.

Maybe he was just as crazy as me.

The truth was even sadder than I could bear.

I waited only minutes at the creek, sitting on the moss covered fallen tree facing the running water. Carter showed up with his acoustic guitar and took a seat next to me. I felt like I was soaring through the skies with happiness being so near to him. This was really happening, and I felt like I was dreaming.

As I watched him tune his guitar, I asked, “How long have you known?”

His eyebrows were furrowed when he answered distractedly, “I always knew you were stalking me.”

My mouth parted in surprise. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

With a nonchalant shrug, he replied with a smirk, “There was nothing to say. You’re harmless as a fly, so I can’t say I ever felt threatened.”

“I can be threatening,” I lamely replied, affronted by how uncaring he’d been that I had been following him around for so long. I’d have liked some kind reaction out of him.

I mean, did he have other stalkers?

I glanced around quickly. He better not. I’d skin them alive.
I
was his stalker, goddammit. I earned those stripes fair and square!

“Maybe you’re threatening to someone like Graeme now,” he said with a chuckle, winking at me just then.

I went crimson, unable to hold back my grin. This guy totally had me wrapped around his finger, and I know he knew it too.

“I’m not too sure about that,” I said. “He seemed to be doing a good job hitting me. I think he might have won.”

“Yeah, he won the award for being the biggest coward and dick in the trailer park. I might just call him Cowardick from now on.”

“I think that name is perfect.”

He smiled. “You know, I really can’t believe you mauled him over like that. You can’t be stupid enough to think he was winning. You’ve got some viper blood in you, Angel.”

Angel. It was the first time he called me that, and it wasn’t going to be the last.

“Maybe I was wrong about you being a harmless stalker after all,” he added.

I laughed and shook my head. “Impossible. I like your singing too much to want to hurt you.”

That seemed to brighten his mood straightaway. He perked up but turned his face away from me, like maybe he didn’t want me to see just how good that made him feel. I’d grow to learn how bottled up Carter was a lot of the time. If it was mushy stuff, he checked out.

It was a little contradictory to the guy that was living it up on the edge, fighting boys left and right, and flirting with the girls like the Casanova he knew he was.

Our conversation stopped there. He stroked the strings of his guitar with his pick like it was second nature to him and began to sing. My body immediately relaxed at the sound of his voice. It was so strange hearing him from this close and not having to hide behind a bush while being mauled by insects. I couldn’t stop my lips from forming a smile. It stayed on my face for a long while as I swayed from side to side. He sang “Thank You” again and I shut my eyes, savouring every lyric that fell from his lips.

“Wow,” I whispered when he finished. Opening my eyes, I saw him staring out into the creek.

“You’re an amazing singer, Carter,” I eventually told him. Maybe cheering him up would break through whatever he was feeling.

But he shrugged, like it didn’t matter.

“Did your dad teach you to play?”

His shoulders tensed, but that faraway look on his face remained. “No,” he muttered. “The only thing that asshole is good at is getting drunk and passing out. It was my mom.”

His mom? I hadn’t seen a woman around his place. I’d never given it any thought either. But even though he wasn’t letting on with his emotions in regards to her, I had a sad feeling in my heart. I could feel the melancholy coming off of him. It was so different from how upbeat he was just moments ago.

“Did she teach you these songs?” I gently asked, treading softly.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. ‘Thank You’ was the last one she ever sang to me. Then she died.”

“How’d she die?”

He paused a beat. “She was sick.” He said in an odd strained voice, and I thought at the time it was because it was difficult to talk about.

“Did she sing as nice as you?”

His brows came together in thought, and then he swallowed a lump in his throat. “She sang like an angel.”

“I wish I’d heard her.”

When he didn’t respond, I told him quietly, “My mother died too. I was five.”

He was surprised by this. He looked at me with wide curious eyes. “How did she die?”

“Car crash minutes after she dropped me off at school. It was a rainy day and her windshield wipers weren’t working. She ran a red light and got hit by a truck.”

I had rehearsed all that after years of being told what had happened, but I don’t even remember all that much about it. It’s a blur in my memories, vague little scenes in my head, voices telling me delicately of what had become of her. I remember what I felt more than anything. I know I was sad. I cried a lot when I asked for her and people kept telling me she was gone. Gone where, though? I couldn’t understand. But my life was such a whirlwind after her death, I don’t think I ever stopped to grasp what had truly happened. I was swiftly placed into Uncle Russell’s care and that was the end of that.

“Sorry to hear that,” Carter said gently.

Without thinking, I rested a hand on his warm arm, consoling him through a soft gesture. It happened on its own. I’d never touched another kid before, but this felt right.

“Sorry about your mother, too,” I replied.

He looked down at my hand, his lips parting just slightly. For a while, there was only silence and it wasn’t at all awkward. I was surprised by my ease. I thought my nerves would have suffocated me by now, but I was too lost in Carter to think about that right now. Something told me he wanted me here. He wanted me to listen from up close because he was ready to bring somebody into that side of him.

“Sing another song,” I whispered to him, motioning to his guitar. “I want to hear you sing again.”

“For how long?” he asked, focusing back on his instrument.

“For however long you want.”

If it were really up to me, I’d have said forever.

He took me back home after that. The way back was silent again, but this time we were both lost in our own thoughts. When we got to my trailer, I waved goodbye to him as we parted ways. I sat down on the porch, unable to resist watching him. He glanced at me several times before he disappeared inside his trailer, leaving a mess of teenage hormones (well, almost) behind. I mulled over the events, creepily humming random tunes that popped into my head, all while smiling like a goofy idiot to myself. All I kept hearing in my mind was the soulful sound of his voice. It gave me chills.

One wouldn’t have to look at him to like his voice. It had nothing to do with attraction. Truly, for a thirteen year old, he was unusually gifted.

And remember that, Leah.
My mind reiterated over and over again.
He’s thirteen, popular, and gorgeous as hell. You’re twelve, hated by everyone, and awkward as hell. You stand no chance.

What a bittersweet mess life was, filled with boundaries and never ending disappointments. The blaringly obvious truth was punching me in the face. Carter was never going to want me, and yet I was Mohamed Ali, rounding my shoulders, raising my fists up to fight and mentally hardening myself through every punch reality had in store.

I wondered about his mother, and what she meant to him. I was afraid to ask him about her, only because of the sad look in his eyes. Had she died around the time he moved next door to me? It killed me to think he was bottling up his sadness. If I could just get close enough to him to let me in…

Sometime later the front door behind me opened, and a broad figure burst out, zipping up his pants and running both hands over his long black hair. I redirected my gaze and kept it firmly planted to the ground as the stranger walked past me, slowing down for a moment to look down at me.

“She’s off limits,” Uncle Russell suddenly said from behind me. “Only twelve.”

I could still feel the man’s heavy gaze on me while he backed away. I heard the sounds of keys jingling, and when he was a safe distance away, I looked up at him and watched him unlock his car door. Just another seedy looking man. Nothing new.

Right before he climbed in, his face turned once more in my direction. It was only a brief second, but I felt uncomfortable by it. Then he disappeared inside his car and took off.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d grown tired of the attention men had given me whenever they came and went. Sometimes they were regulars, but I’d rather that than strangers like the one that’d just gone. At least with the regulars I knew they’d respect the off-limits reminder Uncle Russell had given them. Strangers, on the other hand, were entirely unpredictable.

“What are we in the mood for tonight, darling?” Uncle Russell asked as he stepped out and took a seat next to me.

He was a large man, not in a muscular way whatsoever. Just big and meaty, mostly due to genetics than anything else. Glancing at his gut, I hoped I wouldn’t turn into him. He was my mother’s brother, and if you looked at Russell hard enough, you’d see the similarities between us. Like the light coloured hair and hazel eyes, or the thin red lips on a heart shaped face. Other than that, we were nothing alike, both physically and mentally.

“Fish and chips,” I suggested with a shrug. I wasn’t all that hungry. My stomach was still swirling with butterflies after being so near to Carter.

Uncle Russell smiled down at me, and it looked friendly and kind, but I knew better than to trust him. I’d seen how he treated people. He was a hard man, even to Aunt Cheryl. Sometimes he frightened me when they argued. He wasn’t physical with her. But I quickly learned mental abuse was equivalent to words with pointy daggers at the end.

Fortunately for me, he’d never treated me badly. I know now it was all a ruse. That he was patient with me only because he had a lot in store for me. At the time, though, I thought I was his soft spot.

“Anything for you,” he said with an unsettling wink.

He pushed back a few strands of my hair behind my ear, and I resisted cringing at the simple gesture. I hated when he touched me in any way. I felt slimy on the inside. Then he was up and on his way out to get fish and chips, using the money Aunt Cheryl had just earned getting screwed by multiple men. Weekends were always the busiest, and she’d recuperate Monday to Wednesday before opening up for business again.

When he was long gone, I was able to step inside and tiptoe past the bedroom where Cheryl was in a foetal position, nursing a cigarette with a trembling hand. It was always hard to witness her like this. I knew she hated it. She was so beautiful, too. I always thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She had the softest mahogany hair, green sad eyes, large full lips and a body that was naturally slim. She was capable of stealing the shine wherever she went. It was no wonder all the women here wanted to cut her eyes out. Didn’t help their men were probably sneaking in here and getting a bit of the action. There was a reason I was loathed by everybody. I was the offspring of a dysfunctional family whose Aunt whored herself to all the men that weren’t getting laid enough at home. Pretty much the niece to a home wrecker, and suddenly Graeme’s attack wasn’t all that random.

“Leah, is that you?” she called out, her voice shaky and high.

I froze and stared longingly at my bedroom. With a sigh, I turned back around and slowly entered hers. She didn’t move her head to look at me, but her glazed eyes did. I stood in front of her, and her gaze moved up and down my body, no emotion on her face. She was probably high already.

“Why are you dressed like that?” she managed out.

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.