by Joy Jenkins
Cold hatred seized Carter, not for him but for the third presence that had left behind the smell of citrus.
"No," she said, her voice piercing the air. "That is where you are wrong. I have no mother. Not anymore.”
She stormed to her room, the vile feeling of rage coursing through her. Kicking her door shut, she hurled her satchel onto her bed. Everything around her blurred as thoughts battled in her mind. Images of her mother leaving the first time clashing with the image of her mother standing before her moments ago. Conflicting emotions ricocheted through her, suffocating her.
She was never supposed to come back. They had moved on. What right did she have to come back?
Without thinking, Carter ripped off her jacket, threw it onto her bed, and grabbed her boxing gloves. She pulled them on, yanking with unnecessary force on the Velcro straps. Endless scenarios of how the interaction could have gone played through her mind as she pummeled the punching bag.
The sound of her fists hitting the taut leather and the creaking of the bag as it swung went unheard by Carter, her thoughts drowning out the world. She wasn’t supposed to come back. She wasn’t supposed to come back. Carter forced breath into her lungs, as a vise closed tighter and tighter around her heart. She began to ache with the frantic speed in which she fought the bag but she didn't stop. She landed blow after blow to the tight leather, her movements reckless. The bag swung and she pounded, unaware of the pain in her knuckles.
Tears gathered in her eyes when the strain in her arms and the overwhelming pain in her heart dulled her thoughts. She blinked angrily, causing the tears to spill over and stream down her face.
Her punches became sloppier and slower until she finally stopped, unable to see the bag through her blur of tears. Holding onto one of the chains keeping the bag up, she leaned her head against the cool, black fabric and cried.
Unlike her anger, her sadness was one of deep pain. No tornado of emotion. Just one deep endless pit of grief that threatened to swallow her whole. She didn't hear her door open. She was barely aware of her father's presence until his strong hand pulled her into a one-armed hug.
She yielded to his comfort and buried her face in his shirt, letting loose all the hurt she had bottled up.
“She wasn’t supposed to come back,” she choked. “Why is she here?"
Her father stroked her head and kissed the top of her hair. "It’s complicated.”
Chapter 23
The tumult of student voices filled the empty air as Carter opened the car door. Maggie put a hand on Carter’s arm, making her pause. Carter felt numb from exhaustion and sadness. Maggie gripped Carter’s arm in a gesture that spoke volumes of her concern and worry.
"Carter," she said, softly.
Carter tensed, unable to face anyone's sympathy. Releasing her hand, Maggie settled for an understanding smile. Without a word, Carter picked up her bag and got out of the car.
The full force of spring seemed to have chased the last strains of winter away during the night. The sun's heat penetrated the chill trapped in the breeze. Ducking her head, Carter headed up the stairs, oppressed by the cheeriness of the day.
She had barely taken two steps inside the school when Lucas and his gang of friends converged on her. Instead of taking the opportunity to release some of her pent up pain on someone, who would no doubt earn it when he spoke, Carter found she didn't want to.
“Owens, have you looked in a mirror-“
The rest of the sentence broke off as Carter shoved Lucas aside, walking to her classroom as if he was a ghost.
In front of her first-period classroom, Amy talked with Link, their hands intertwined. Donovan rested against a set of lockers, his gaze roaming over the flow of students. When his eyes landed on Carter, he straightened, surprise and concern flashing through his expression. With an effort, Carter put on a mask of disinterest. The bell rang, sending everyone scattering.
"I should get to class," Amy said, her tone soft.
Despite her best efforts, Carter knew Donovan saw beyond her mask. The small part of her that wasn't numb hated him for seeing her weakness.
"Carter," he said, his voice low. "What's wrong?"
She kept her face blank. "Nothing."
"That's not true," he said. "You can't lie to me.”
“Nothing is wrong,” she said, tucking her hands into her pockets so he wouldn’t see her red knuckles.
He closed the space between them. “Look, Carter. If this is about what I said last night, I apologize. I was out of line.”
The double date felt as if it had happened in another lifetime. The conversation with Donovan darted through her mind, the topic pulling up the image of her mother standing in the living room. Pain flicked through her face. Donovan flexed his jaw in reaction, guilty. Carter dragged herself to the present, the feeling equal to pulling a body out of the water. She focused her gaze and she found Donovan watching her.
"It's fine," she said, her voice lifeless.
Donovan opened his mouth to argue but was stopped by Link.
"Are we going to class or are you two going to stand there staring at each other?"
Carter cut around Donovan and Link tossed his arm around her shoulders, his buoyed mood blinding him to hers.
◆◆◆
At her locker, Carter stared at the interior while behind her students rushed to the cafeteria. Half the day has gone and Carter couldn’t remember a single lesson she had heard. Forcing herself to move, she closed her locker. Further down the hallway, Donovan and Link made their way to her. She could see Donovan trying to find the reason for her current mood. She sighed inwardly, a heavy, tired feeling washing over her.
"Carter Owens, please report to the office," a scratchy female voice said over the speakers.
"What did you do?" Link asked.
"Who did you punch?" Donovan asked, noticing her red knuckles.
Carter met their curious expressions with a shake of her head. "I didn't do anything or punch anyone.”
"Then why are you getting called to the office?" Link asked.
Without giving an answer, she left them, both boys watching her.
At the office, she opened the wooden door and stepped into the neat, spacious room. Behind the counter were rows of filing cabinets and a woman with a pinched face. She eyed Carter over her oval glasses.
"I was called in," Carter said, stepping up to the desk.
The woman motioned to the right with her pencil. "You have someone here to see you.”
Carter went rigid at the sight of her mother, a new wave of exhaustion and emotions crashing over her. Her mother walked forward, wearing high heels, a pencil skirt, and a neat oxford shirt. She looked flawless.
"Carter," she said. "I thought we could have lunch together and talk."
Lunch. As if it were the most natural thing to offer. Hot anger burned away Carter’s numbness.
"You thought wrong," she said, "It's not the first time. I'm sure you're used to the feeling."
Shock flickered in her mother's eyes.
"Leave me and my father alone. That shouldn't be too difficult for you; it’s what you're good at."
Chapter 24
Carter heard the thrum of students crowding the halls, the sound telling her she should be on her way somewhere but she didn’t stir from her corner at the back of the library. She ached from remaining stasis for so long but still didn’t get up. Instead, she watched the motes of dust drifting in the sunlight, feeling as if they carried her tangled thoughts and emotions.
The second bell rang through the school and voices tumbled into the library as students settled around tables. Books banged against tabletops and chairs scraped against the floor. Carter took it in without caring, head resting against the wall. On the second level and hidden among the rows of biographies, she felt sure no one would find her there.
A set of footsteps vibrated on the stairs but Carter stayed immobile even as the steps drew closer. When Donovan came into view, Carter gathere
d up her tangled thoughts and shoved them away. They weren’t for him to see and analyze.
“How long have you been here?” he asked.
Carter shifted, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles. “I don’t know.”
Donovan eyed her as she uncurled her limbs, trying to hide how everything ached. “You didn’t come to lunch and from how tense you look, I'm guessing you skipped the last two classes as well.”
“What do I care? Not like I wouldn’t be bored in them anyways.”
“Why did you get called into the office?”
Carter clenched her jaw as the image of her mother swam in front of her eyes. Schooling her face, she shrugged. “It was nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
Annoyance sparked inside Carter. “You know, just because you can see everything doesn’t mean you have the right to know everything.”
Donovan stared at her, expressionless. “That’s rich coming from you.”
She wished he’d go away, leave her to try and make sense of the mess inside. But he stood there, waiting. It didn’t matter, Carter didn’t plan on giving him anything. Why would she? For the last four years she’d done fine on her own.
“What’s wrong, Carter?” Donovan asked.
“Nothing.”
Carter stood, cramps in her muscle making it an effort. She leaned on the wall, working to appear nonchalant. She met Donovan’s gaze and crossed her arms. The tilt of his head told her he noticed the defensiveness in her posture. It irritated her.
“What?” she said. “What do you see, Donovan? A girl who doesn’t want to go to class. That can’t be something new.”
Donovan said nothing, holding the same knowing look. “Link and I are your friends.”
Carter tensed, surrounded by walls she’d created for years. “And, what? That means I share my deepest darkest secrets with you?” She gave a derisive laugh. “I’ve known you for only a couple of weeks, what makes you think you have a right to know?”
Bemused, Donovan inched towards her. “Don’t you understand that’s how friendship works?”
“Then I’m not good at friendship.”
“I would have to agree.”
Carter scowled at him. “How is that supposed to make me want to tell you anything?”
Donovan stepped closer, challenging. “You pretend you’re fine but you’re not.”
Pushing herself off the wall, Carter strode past Donovan but he halted her with a hand on her arm. “If you force people away long enough they won’t be there when you need them.”
“I don’t force people away,” Carter said, yanking her arm free. “They leave on their own.”
◆◆◆
The weather had shifted, whitish-gray clouds pushing out the sunlight as Carter trudged to the deli. Donovan’s statement cut into her over and over again, ‘if you force people away long enough they won’t be there when you need them.’
From outside the deli, Carter heard the chaos of voices, the noise doubling as she entered. Families, students, and groups of elderly people packed the tables. The scolding of parents to their children clashed with the cheery conversations of friends. Alone, Carter stood just inside the door, surveying the scene.
“Oh, hi, Hon,” Maggie said, bits of hair falling out of her ponytail, face flushed from rushing about. “How come you’re so late? it’s past six.”
“I walked a while. Lost track of time.”
“You never lose track of time,” Maggie said, concerned.
Carter wanted to explain, wanted someone to listen, needed someone to listen. But the bell dinged and a new group joined the crowded deli.
“I’m sorry, Hon, I can’t talk. I might see you late tonight but can’t count on it.”
Smothering her disappointment, Carter sidestepped the new customers and left. Outside felt colder than before and Carter hurried home, needing warmth. As she discarded her keys in the bowl, her father greeted her. On the dining room table around him lay neat stacks of papers and a computer.
“Hi Sarge, how was school?” he asked.
Carter began to drop her bag on the coffee table but stopped, her response trapped in her mouth. The bag clattered onto the wood.
“She was here today,” Carter said, smelling her mother’s citrus perfume. A scent too fresh to be from the previous night.
“Yes,” her father said.
“Why?” Carter snapped. “Why are you doing this? Why did you let her come back here?”
Calmly, her father slid his chair back and rose. “I can explain. I...”
Carter cut him off. “Why are you even letting her into our house? I don’t know what she’s doing here!”
“I know you don’t understand -”
"I don't understand! At all! I don't get why she's back!”
“Carter, if you’d just let me...”
“Don't you see how truly terrible of a person she is?”
“Now, wait a minute..”
“How do you not get that -”
“Enough!” Carter felt hit by the vehemence in her father’s tone. "I've had enough of this, Carter. I will not have you talk to me like that."
"But Captain, why-“
Her father’s fierce glare cut Carter’s rant short.
"I said enough," he said. "I have my reasons. This is the end of the conversation."
Stunned, Carter couldn’t act, couldn’t think of what to say. Couldn’t make sense of the world pitching around her.
When her father’s phone rang, he answered it. “Yes, sir?”
With a last look at Carter, he retreated to his room, closing the door. The heavy silence around her brought Carter back to herself. She spun on her heel and left the apartment. Dropping to the top step she buried her head in her hands. The cold stairs chilled her and the canopy of stars seemed to echo her loneliness. Lost in a troubled storm, she jogged down the steps, unsure where she was going.
Eventually, she found herself back on the wealthy side of the city. Wanting to turn back, but not knowing where else to go, Carter wound her way through the busy sidewalks to Link and Donovan’s apartment building. The same doorman welcomed her. The same classical music played in the elevator. The same tan hallway greeted her. Only Carter had changed since the night of the double date.
Uncertain, she walked down the hallway, hearing the hum of TVs within apartments. Time stretched around her as she stood before the smooth wooden door, catching her reflection in the gold numbers.
She raised her hand to knock but hesitated. Stealing herself, she rapped her knuckles against the door. No sound came from within. Cursing, she turned to leave but heard the faint patter of feet and a second later the door opened.
“Carter?!”
Self-conscious, Carter shoved her hands into her pockets. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
Chapter 25
Link blinked in surprise. When Carter fidgeted, Link snapped out of his shock. “Sure. Come in.”
Link’s apartment had a wide, open layout. A living room to the left held a beige couch and two vanilla armchairs, while the kitchen to the right held granite countertops. Floor to ceiling windows showcased the darkened city and the top of the Capitol building. Carter knew in a glance that her apartment could fit in Link's living room and kitchen.
"It looks like the child support checks are still coming in," she said.
Link flinched and Carter let out a weary sigh, hating herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to insult you. I really didn’t.”
Link waved the comment away as if it hadn’t hit a sore wound. Though Donovan, who sat in one of the armchairs, scowled at Carter for her comment. She didn’t blame him, he’d been right. She didn’t know how to do friendship.
“Is your mother here?” Carter asked Link.
"She's at the office," he said. "Big court case. I have no idea when she will be home. It's usually never before three.” He rubbed his neck, unsure. “Uh..do you want to sit down or something?”
“Sure
.”
“I can leave,” Donovan said, as Link and Carter joined him in the living room.
“No,” Carter said. “It’s fine.”
Both boys watched her. Carter took a deep breath, trying to form the sentences that would explain her presence. When she produced nothing and the silence stretched on, she balled her fists, nervous energy dancing in her fingertips.
How did you release something that had been trapped inside for years? How did someone go about explaining the events that made her the abrasive girl they knew?
"Carter," Link said, "what's going on?"
As Carter cracked her knuckles she looked between them, unable to hold their gazes for longer than a second. Link glanced at Donovan, who shook his head, silently telling him to wait. Carter saw the disassembled handgun Donovan must have been working on, laying on the coffee table.
Needing something familiar to help her gather her courage, she reached for the pieces. Donovan jerked forward but halted as she expertly assembled the weapon. Finished, she gently placed the gun down and pulled back.
"Sorry," she said.
Link stared in astonishment, Donovan's only show of surprise a slight rise in his eyebrows. Carter slid back on the couch and rubbed her hands on her pants, some of her frantic energy appeased.
"I don't know where to begin," she said.
"The reason why you're here would be a good place," Donovan said.
Drawing strength from the steadiness of the boys’ presence, she nodded. "I came...because I needed a friend.”
She studied her locked fingers. "I don't know how much of this you know," she said, gesturing to Donovan. "But my mom left when I was fourteen."
"What happened?" Link blurted out.
Donovan shot him a look and Link curbed his questions.
"One night she decided that being a mother was no longer what she wanted to do. So she left. In a taxi.”
In Donovan’s eyes, she could see he wasn't fooled by her impassivity but he didn’t call her out. Link bent forward on his knees.