Sincerely, Carter

by Whitney G.

  I had a feeling in my chest when I woke up this morning that I was going to regret this goodbye for the rest of my life. I didn’t try to stop it, though. Didn’t attempt to question or wonder why this unfamiliar feeling had suddenly appeared. I just went through the motions.

  I got dressed early, drove to the airport to meet Arizona, and ignored whatever that unwelcome feeling was.

  “Are you sure you can’t go with her?” Ari’s mom stood by my side at the terminal. “Just to make sure she gets there safely?”

  “Mom…” Ari said. “People fly all the time. I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.”

  I hadn’t told Ari, but her mom had called me every day this week—asking me to do small things that helped lessen her OCD-like worries: I printed information about the type of airliner Ari would be flying on, the last known accident on the aircraft. I even managed to look up who the pilot would be and tell her he had a stellar record and hadn’t been in any accidents.

  “I need the two of you to take a picture together…” she said. “I need to remember this moment.”

  I walked over to Ari and put my arm around her shoulder. We both held our smiles, looking right at her mom as she clicked the button, but nothing happened.

  “Ugh!” She slapped her forehead with her palm. “I forgot to buy new batteries for this thing. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” She stepped away and walked to a gift-shop.

  Ari looked up at me and sighed. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Do you think I’m making the right choice?” Her voice cracked. “Is this the right choice?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like…Three weeks ago, I was going to Cleveland for culinary school. I was still going to be in the States and I could have flown home once a month…maybe more. But two weeks ago everything changed and I just…I don’t know anymore. Do you think going abroad to this school is what’s best for me?”

  “It’s the second highest ranked culinary school in the world, correct?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I don’t think you need me to tell you it’s the right choice…”

  “I’m just wondering if…” Her voice trailed off. “Never mind…My chest feels like it’s going to explode any minute because I’ve had anxiety ever since I woke up this morning…Just so you know, I still expect you to email me whenever you get a chance so I won’t have to use so many international minutes, and you have to write me one letter a month.”

  “Via email?”

  “No, a real letter like old times.”

  “It’s going to take a week or two for it to get to you.”

  “I don’t care. I want one. I think it’s going to feel weird enough not talking to you so much.”

  “Doubt it. I won’t notice your absence at all.”

  She hit my shoulder. “You’ll miss me more than I miss you.”

  “Want to bet?”

  “Twenty dollars.”

  “That’s all I’m worth?”

  “That’s all you’re getting.” She laughed and leaned close.

  I ran my fingers through her hair, suddenly feeling the need to kiss her lips, to pull her close and give her a kiss she’d never forget in front of everyone around us.

  Fuck it… I covered her mouth with mine, claiming every inch of it with my tongue—not letting her go when she pretended like she wanted to. I bit her bottom lip, and smiled as she murmured against my mouth, but when I felt like she needed to take a breath, I finally pulled away.

  Staring at me in shock, her cheeks turned red—a mix of horniness and anger.

  “Add that to the list of shit that never happened between us…” I said under my breath, gently rubbing her back. “For the record, you’re doing the right thing by chasing your dreams…You know that, and you should—”

  “I love you.” She cut me off. “I’m in love with you, and I need you to know that…I think I’ve loved you for most of my life, and…Even though I’m going away today, I need to know if…I need to know if you feel the same.”

  Silence.

  Her last paragraph repeated itself in my mind on a loop: I love you, I’m in love with you, do you feel the same…

  I knew what I should’ve said, what would make her flight easier, but I had to say what I knew was better. What I knew was the right thing to do.

  “Ari…” I said, looking into her eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry…” I noticed tears welling in her eyes. “Please don’t take this to heart but…I do love you, I love you very much but…”

  “But?” Her face fell. “But, what?”

  “But not in that way…You’re my best friend and I know we had sex but…We’re just friends.”

  Wiping away a stray tear, she forced a smile and nodded, stepping back. “Right…Just friends.”

  I reached out and pulled her back. “You’re doing the right thing by going abroad. You’re going to kick ass.”

  “Thank you...” She gave me a hug and we stood still in an awkward embrace before slowly breaking apart.

  “Did I miss something?” Her mom walked back over, looking between us both. “Why is your face so red, Ari?”

  “I have no idea.” She turned away from me.

  Her mom looked between the two of us again but didn’t press any further. “Could you stand next to each other again?”

  We stepped closer and she snapped shot after shot.

  “Okay…How about a hugging pose?” She snapped again. “Give each other a real hug! Like you’re actually best friends who won’t see each other for a while. Ari, you look like you don’t even want to be around Carter right now…”

  If only she knew…

  When she was satisfied with our less than stellar shots, she snapped her fingers and made solo requests for just Ari.

  “Could you go stand by that departure sign, Ari?” Her mom asked. “Oh, and I need to get one of you in front of the international sign, too.”

  Ten minutes later, when her mom had managed to snap a photo of her at every angle, Ari gave us both a hug.

  “Take care, you two,” she said. “I love you both…Very, very much…”

  “Love you, too,” we said.

  “They’re going to start boarding in about thirty minutes…” She looked at her watch. “I need to get through security.” Her eyes met mine. “Talk to you later?”

  “Talk to you later.”

  She walked away and I kept my eyes on her until she disappeared. I walked her mom—who started to cry, back to her car, and when I was sure she wasn’t too emotional to drive, I headed to my car.

  As I was starting the engine, I felt my phone vibrating. A text from Ari.

  How much did you spend on upgrading me to first class?

  I didn’t upgrade you to first class.

  Someone did…I didn’t pay for this.

  You did. Your seat was always 2A.

  Ha! I knew it. Thank you very much…

  No problem. I figured ten-plus hours in economy class would’ve brought out the worst in you and your anxiety. Be safe.

  Okay.

  Okay.

  I drove off and when I stopped at a red-light, I saw that she’d sent me another text.

  Okay so…Just to be clear because well…I don’t know. Sometimes you push people away when you don’t want to show emotions…When we were having sex…You felt nothing? It was just sex?

  You putting it that way makes me sound like an asshole, Ari…

  I didn’t say you were an asshole. Just tell me.

  Yes. It was just sex.

  Okay. Talk to you later.

  Talk to you later.

  Track 21. Should’ve Said No (2:44)

  I couldn’t stop crying.

  My heart felt heavy, and no matter how many times I wiped away my tears, more of them fell down my face. A part of me wished that I was sitting in coach and not first class so it would be easier to hide my pain, so flight attendants w
ouldn’t be so accessible and could stop offering me endless drinks and looks of sympathy.

  I started to wonder if the heartbreak was written all over my face, if the other passengers in my cabin could see it.

  Carter’s words, “I’m sorry…I love you, but not in that way,” wouldn’t stop replaying themselves in my head, and I couldn’t stop staring at his last text:

  Yes. It was just sex.

  I was hoping that the words were playing a cruel joke on me, because I still couldn’t believe he felt differently than I did…

  I’d thought the way he looked at me when we made love meant something, that the way he treated me (better than anyone he’d ever dated) was indicative of something more. Something much more between us.

  “Here you go…” A flight attendant set another packet of Kleenex in my lap. “Would you like another cup of juice?”

  “No…” I sniffled. “I’m…” I paused. I would probably never see her or any of the people on this plane again in my life. “Can I have two glasses of your hardest liquor? Actually, can you make that four?”

  She looked as if she was going to recite some company line, but she smiled instead. “Be right back.”

  Turning to face the window, I stared at the wing of the plane as it cruised through clouds. I hoped that four glasses of alcohol would be enough for me to sleep through the remaining hours of this flight without dreaming.

  Then again, if I did, I hoped that the images would show me going back in time and not talking to Carter as much. Maybe if we’d never had the opportunity to cross the line, this never would have happened.

  I scrolled through my memories with him, pinpointing one that would’ve definitely prevented my heartbreak. It wasn’t erasing any of our nightly phone calls or the emails, or hanging around him when we were in high school; it was making the decision to go to a college near his.

  I should’ve never done that…

  Freshman Year

  Subject: Star Status

  Dare I ask how many women you’ve attempted to sleep with since you’ve started the semester? If I see another commenter on Facebook talk about how “sexy” you are on your profile picture, I will scream. (Why are you using that picture of us anyway? And what the hell is up with that CAPTION???!!)

  Arizona

  Subject: Re: Star Status

  The word “attempt” implies that I actually have to try to sleep with someone here. I don’t. You’re only upset because none of the commenters are leaving compliments about you. (I like that picture of us in eleventh grade. No one will ever know what “Beat her to it…Best twenty dollars I ever won” means…)

  Sincerely,

  Carter

  I put my phone away and focused on the girl who was sitting at my table.

  Earlier today, she’d claimed to have no idea who I was, but the first question out of her mouth was, “Do you think you’ll go pro after college?”

  Hell no… “Anything is possible,” I’d responded. “I’m only focusing on the present.”

  Now, our main conversation points were all used up, and I was just waiting for her to get to the inevitable ending for our night.

  “So…” she said. “When you’re not hanging out with your basketball friends, who do you hang out with?”

  “Myself, really,” I said. “I don’t really have time for much else.”

  She frowned and stood up, moving so she could sit right next to me. “That’s so sad…You don’t have any real friends? People outside of your teammates?”

  “Not at the moment, but I’m sure I’ll make some eventually.”

  “Why not start with me?” She bit her lip and rubbed my thigh under the table. “As a matter of fact, I think you and me can be best friends.”

  “Becoming best friends takes a lot of time.” My cock hardened as she caressed it through my pants. “I’m not sure I’ll have much of that when the season starts.”

  “You have to sleep somewhere at night, right?” She bit her lip again. “I’ll be there for you whenever you need me…Want me to show you how good it could be, future best friend?”

  “I would.” I smiled. “Tell me when.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Tonight works.”

  “Okay.” Satisfied with my answer, she smiled wider and got up. “I’m going to tell my friends I’m leaving. You think you’ll be ready to go by the time I get back?”

  “Most definitely.”

  She blushed and walked away, and I signaled to the waitress for the check. Then I pulled out my phone, noticing another email from Arizona.

  Subject: Scheduling Time.

  Now that you’re going to be a huge basketball star, I guess I’ll have to start making appointments to come see you. How far out into the year are you booked with groupies? Or do I need to go through your “people” for things like this?

  Rolling my eyes,

  Arizona

  Subject: Re: Scheduling Time.

  You wouldn’t have to make appointments to see me at all if you’d chosen to go to a closer school. You hate snow and rain, so you should’ve never agreed to go the University of Pittsburgh.

  Sincerely,

  Carter

  Subject: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.

  I know…Which is why I just transferred. Well, THAT and other stupid things…Ugh. I know it’s sad that I only lasted a month, but I couldn’t stand the dreariness, and that professor I was adamant about learning from? Apparently he got this huge book deal before the semester started and is stepping down from teaching for two years so he can finish it.

  Please don’t tell me ‘I told you so’…

  Regretting things,

  Arizona

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.

  I fucking told you so.

  Sincerely,

  Carter

  PS—What school are you transferring to?

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.

  Reeves University. Seven minutes away from your precious South Beach University.

  I’m actually here right now unpacking. God, I missed the beach!

  Will call you when I get more done.

  Arizona

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.

  No need. I’ll come help you. Send me your address.

  Sincerely,

  Carter

  I wrote a “something came up” on a napkin for my “future best friend,” and headed straight to the address Ari texted me. It was exactly seven minutes like she said, and just like my dorm, it was steps away from the beach. Unlike my dorm though, where everyone had a roommate, it seemed as if all the suites in Ari’s dorm were singles.

  I didn’t bother knocking on her already open door. “Ari?”

  “I’m back here!” She yelled.

  I stepped past the closet and saw her folding clothes on the bed.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? I would’ve helped you move your stuff.” I asked.

  “Because the week I made my decision, you were on ESPN’s college channel with your team-mates talking about how explosive a season this was going to be, how many intensive practices you were looking forward to. I figured you’d be busy. No practice today?”

  “No.” I looked around her room. “I just had a date.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “If I’m here talking to you, how do you think it went?”

  She threw a pillow at my face. “Nice seeing you again, too! You want to make yourself useful and actually help me unpack? Could you unload all my books?”

  “Sure.” I opened the labeled box and started sorting them. “Within the entire month that you wasted in Pittsburgh, did you do anything worth talking about?”

  For the next few hours, we caught up on all the little details that’d slipped through emails and text messages, all the insignificant things that were now seemingly important. And by the end of the night, we’d almost unpacked most of her things.

  “Are there any good places to
eat on campus?” she asked, yawning. “If not, would you mind driving back to our neighborhood so we can eat at Sam’s?”

  “There’s actually this place called Gayle’s I think you’ll like.”

  “Gayle’s? It sounds like an old fashioned diner...”

  “It is, but the food is perfect. They serve just as many flavors of yogurt as they do of ice cream, and their waffles are ten times better than Sam’s.”

  “I refuse to believe that…Do they have a candy bar?”

  “They do.”

  “What about breakfast at all hours of the day?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Okay, fine.” She smiled. “I’m sold, but if I don’t like it, you have to pay.”

  “I was going to pay anyway…” I pulled out my car keys. “Let’s go.”

  Minutes later, we were seated in a booth at Gayle’s—arguing over stupid things like old times and looking over the extensive dessert menu.

  “So, is this why you’ve been turning down every girl that approaches you in here, Carter?” The only waitress I’d ever seen in this place stepped in front of us. “Is this your girlfriend?”

  “Ha! Never.” Ari laughed. “I’m Arizona. His best friend.”

  “Since fifth grade,” I said.

  “Fourth grade, Carter.” Ari countered. “It was fourth grade.”

  “No, I couldn’t stand you in fourth grade.”

  “Well, I personally can’t stand you sometimes now, but it still counts as us being friends doesn’t it?”

  “Best friends, huh?” The waitress rolled her eyes. “Okay…I’ll buy that for now…What do you want to order?”

  “A Belgian waffle with vanilla yogurt and strawberries—with a sprinkle of chocolate chips,” Ari said.

  “A waffle tower with chocolate yogurt, peanut butter, and a sprinkle of Oreo chips and candy on the side” I said, waiting for her to walk away. “For the record Ari, just so we’re clear, it was definitely fifth grade.”

  “Are you really going to start an argument with me over this?” She crossed her arms. “Do you really think I’ll ever let you win this? It was fourth grade, Carter. Fourth. Grade.”