Carter cackled. “I guess playing video games doesn’t make you very fast or strong.”
Jim sat up, shaking his head. “Weight room strength ain’t the same as real world strength. I can still whoop your ass.”
Carter stood silent.
Jim stood up, his nostrils flaring. “Ain’t got nothin’ to say about that?”
Carter stared at the concrete floor.
“Let’s see how tough you really are.” He grabbed Carter by the throat and squeezed, the blue veins in his forearms throbbing.
Carter looked up, his eyes wide, his breath stifled. Jim let go, and Carter wheezed for breath. Jim pushed him into the front yard. Carter stood, his hands by his side, staring at the grass. Jim stomped in front of him, his stance wide.
“You think you’re so fuckin’ tough,” Jim said. “Why don’t you hit me? Take a shot. Come on, tough guy. Come on, hit me.”
Carter’s head was down, his hands open. He never saw Jim swing, but he felt the impact on his cheek. He hit the ground hard.
“Come on, get up, tough guy,” Jim said.
Carter pushed himself off the turf, turned and sprinted down the sidewalk, away from his dad. The townhouses flashed by in a blur as if he was in a car. High on adrenaline, he felt like he could run forever. He turned down a cul-de-sac, the playground in the distance. Eventually he stopped and bent over with his hands on his knees. Oxygen coursed through his lungs as his shoulders heaved. Despite the mild weather, the park was empty. Carter wandered into the playground and sat on a park bench, his back to the road. He put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. The empty swings loomed ahead of him, framed by clipped suburban trees.
The sun, high in the sky, crept down, and turned a dim orange. The streetlamps flickered on even though it was still light out. Something touched him on the shoulder. Carter shot upright, his eyes red and wet. Sarah stood with her mouth open and eyes wide, staring at his cheek.
“What happened?” she said.
“It doesn’t matter.” He turned around and sat on the bench, looking down at the playground’s wood chips.
She moved around the bench, her gray corduroys swooshing. “It does matter.” She bent down and put her hand under his chin, raising his gaze to meet hers. “It does matter.”
He grabbed her hand and removed it from his chin. He shook his head, staring at the ground. She sat down next to him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He shrugged.
“How long have you been here?”
He shrugged.
“Do you want to come to my house for some ice?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said. A few tears slid down his face.
“We don’t have to talk about it. I’ll just sit here with you.”
She scooched closer, her thigh touching his. She grasped his hand, their fingers interlaced. Her hands were small and soft. She smelled faintly like strawberries. He didn’t look up but breathed her in, clutching her hand as if her mere touch and scent could heal him. They sat like this until the sun vanished beneath the horizon.
He gazed at her, illuminated by the street light. Her features were soft and round, her pale skin flawless. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She shook her head. “Don’t.”
“No, you were right. I should have stood up for you in the cafeteria. The truth is I’m a fucking coward.”
She squeezed his hand and leaned back with a smile. “Everybody at school says how tough you are.”
“I’m a coward when it counts. I didn’t stand up for you or Ben. I didn’t stand up for my mother. I couldn’t even stand up for myself today.”
“What happened?”
“Same thing that always happens.” He took a deep breath. “My dad.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be.”
“It’s getting really dark.” She peered at the bruise on his face. “Why don’t you come with me for some ice? That bruise isn’t getting any smaller.”
“Okay.”
They stood and strolled down the sidewalk hand in hand.
“Does he hit your sister?” she asked.
He shook his head, his eyes downcast.
“If you don’t want to talk about it.”
“No it’s fine,” he said. “He doesn’t hit my sister. Sometimes he gets rough with my mom, but I’ve never seen him punch her in the face.”
She squeezed his hand. “Then why does he do it to you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I’m not his kid – biologically.”
Sarah gaped at Carter.
“You never noticed that our last names are different?”
“It’s not Lynch?” she asked.
“Mine is, but theirs is Arnold.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“I don’t know. I guess it never came up. I call him Dad, and he raised me, so I do think of him as my father.” Carter looked at Sarah. “Granted, he is a dick.”
She smiled for a split second. “How old were you when your parents split and your mom got remarried?”
“I was three or four. It all kind of happened at the same time, in Fort Bragg, North Carolina. According to my biological father, my mother and stepfather had an affair while he was away in the field.”
She winced.
“Supposedly, it was quite the scandal. Bio-Dad said he could have ruined his career – hit him with an article 134 or something.”
“Do you remember it?”
“Not really. I do remember her getting caught, because my mom got pregnant with my sister. I guess Bio-Dad and my mom weren’t having sex.”
She frowned, her pink lips turning down. “I’m surprised she didn’t have an abortion.”
“My mom’s Catholic, although she doesn’t even go to church anymore.”
“Maybe it was a way out of the marriage,” Sarah said.
“Maybe.”
They walked up the steps to the front door of Sarah’s townhouse. Her house had mold growing on the beige siding. It was a middle unit with a bay window in front and no garage. She pulled a key from her pocket and turned the deadbolt. They entered the kitchen immediately to the left. It was cozy, with a small round wooden table in front of the bay window. A white refrigerator hummed in the background. She opened the freezer and fished out a bag of frozen peas.
“Here,” she said, “put this on your face.”
He held the peas to his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Sit down.” She motioned to the kitchen table. He sat down. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Maybe after my face stops being numb,” he said.
She sat across from him at the table. She took off her glasses and swept her red hair from her eyes.
“Can you see me?” he asked.
“You’re blurry.” She smiled. “Do you ever see him?”
“Who, Bio-Dad?”
She nodded.
“Not for six or seven years. I think I was like nine the last time I saw him. He was remarried with a baby girl. It was a disaster. I didn’t want to be there. I don’t think he wanted me there. I don’t think his wife wanted me there. I didn’t feel anything for him then, and even less now. I mean, how can you have a bond with some guy you haven’t spent any time with?”
“I don’t know that you can. Not unless you build something.”
“That’s the thing. He’s not even someone that I wanna be around. It’s like he looks at me and sees the affair. He wanted my stepfather to adopt me so he wouldn’t have to pay child support. We haven’t spoken since. Maybe I’ll change my name entirely when I turn eighteen.”
She was quiet for a moment. “He’s missing out,” she said.
“I doubt he sees it that way. I’m sure he blames everyone but himself.”
He exhaled. “What about you?”
She shrugged. “What about me?”
“Where’s your dad?”
She stared down at the
table.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please tell me he’s still alive.”
She looked up with a smirk. “He’s very much alive … unfortunately. My father’s a professor at George Washington University. He teaches sociology. What a stupid ass degree.”
“What kind of job can you get with a sociology degree?”
She laughed. “Sociology professor.”
He chuckled, the ice packet still on his face. “Sounds like digging holes and filling ’em back in again.”
“Exactly.”
“So you don’t see him?”
She shook her head. “Never. When he met my mother, he was her professor and was married with kids. Still is, as far as I know. Anyway, he got my mom pregnant. She dropped out of school and never told anyone because he agreed to pay for me. She knew that if she told, he would get divorced, fired, and there wouldn’t be any money.”
He put the peas on the table. One side of his face was red. “Sarah, I …” He shook his head. “Talk about missing out. I think you’re really great.”
She smiled. He put the peas back on his face.
“The money’s been like a curse,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows. “How so?”
“It’s like my mom never had to really grow up and be responsible because she always had the money to keep us afloat. But it’s only been just enough to get by. There’s no college fund for me, that’s for sure. I don’t know what she’s going to do when I turn eighteen.”
“I thought she worked as a hair cutter?”
Car headlights flashed into the bay window, then cut off.
She giggled. “You mean stylist? I doubt she even works twenty hours a week. It’s basically her partying money.”
There was the sound of hurried steps on the concrete outside. The front door opened.
Sarah shook her head. “Speak of the devil.”
Her mother barreled into the kitchen breathless, in her tight maroon skirt, her keys jingling in her hand. She looked more like Sarah’s older sister than her mother. She grinned at Carter, showing a glimpse of white teeth.
Carter took the peas off his face.
“Who’s this cutie?” she asked Sarah.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “This is my friend Carter. Carter, this is my mother.”
Her face was round. Her skin was pale and flawless, much like Sarah’s. She was curvy and thin in all the right places.
He stood up and offered his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Cunningham.”
She smiled, her lips full and glossy, her blue eyes shrouded in eyeliner. “Please, call me Julie.” She took Carter’s hand for a split second and pulled away. “Your hand is frozen.”
“Sorry,” he said picking up the peas from the table. “It’s from holding this.”
She craned her neck to look at the side of his face. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”
He shrugged. “Nothing, it was just an accident.”
She giggled. “Did you try to kiss Sarah?”
“Mom,” Sarah said, “we’re friends.”
Carter sat back down at the table.
Julie narrowed her eyes at Sarah. “You sure about that? Look at him, he’s so freaking adorable.” She grinned. “If I were you, I would sprinkle sugar on him and just eat him up.”
Carter’s face went hot.
A car horn blared from outside.
“Oh, that’s for me,” she said. “I’ve got to get going.” She looked at Sarah. “Have you seen my purse?”
“No,” Sarah replied.
Julie glanced at the counters then marched to the staircase beyond the kitchen. Her heels smacked against the wood as she climbed the staircase.
Sarah looked at Carter with a smirk. “That’s my mother.”
“She seems nice,” Carter said.
Sarah frowned. “She’s selfish and childish.”
The front door opened and heavy steps pounded the linoleum. A tall, muscled man in jeans and a tight black T-shirt peered into the kitchen. His hair was dark and gelled, his face handsome. His strong cologne wafted into the kitchen.
He glanced at Sarah. “Where’d your mom go?”
“Upstairs.”
He stomped to the stairwell. “Babe, we gotta go,” he called out. “Come on, let’s go.”
He appeared in the kitchen. “How long can it take to get a purse?” he said to no one in particular.
“Depends on how close it is to a mirror,” Sarah said.
Light footfalls slapped the wooden steps. The man turned.
“It’s about time,” he said. “We’re never gonna make it.”
“The opening acts are lame anyway,” she said.
He grunted. “My friends are the opening act.”
“Let’s go then.”
As they marched past, Julie stuck her head in the kitchen. “I’ll be home late,” she said to Sarah. “Be good, and definitely don’t do anything to that boy that I would do.” Her giggle lingered in the air.
“Is that your mother’s boyfriend?” Carter asked.
She nodded with her mouth turned down. “His name is Lincoln. He’s a big dumbass. Says he’s some kind of fighter, calls it mixed martial arts. He says it’s going to be bigger than boxing.”
“How long have they been together?”
Sarah laughed. “If my mother dates someone for more than a month, it’s a miracle.” She stood up, grabbing the peas from the table and stashing them back in the freezer. She smirked at Carter. “I try not to get attached.”
“How’s Ben doing?”
Sarah exhaled and sat back down at the table. “He’s not much better, but at least he’s going to school, and at least people are leaving him alone.”
Carter nodded. “That’s good.”
“So. What are you doing tonight?” he asked.
“I don’t know. What about you?”
“I’m supposed to go to the movies …”
“Amber,” she said with a frown.
Carter glanced down, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” she said.
He looked up. “Do you wanna go? We’re seeing Freddy’s Dead.”
She smiled, but her eyes were still. “I’d rather not play the third wheel. You’ll have your hands full with Amber. I’m sure she’ll be all over you during the scary parts.”
– 11 –
Forty Ounce to Freedom
The air was crisp and cool – perfect football weather. Fans dressed in black and gold, filled the stadium seats. The lights illuminated the field and the stands. The cheerleaders had been doing pushups every time the North Potomac Marauders scored. They started with strict military pushups, but slipped into knee-pushups as the score ballooned into the fifties. A handful of booster club men counted hooded sweatshirts boasting the inevitable district championship.
“You guys are out,” Coach Pitts said.
The first team defense groaned.
“We’ve still got half the third quarter left,” Justin said.
Coach Pitts frowned. “Cheer on your teammates.”
Carter stood next to Devin on the sideline. They watched the second team defense stuff the Washington and Lee Lancers. He thought about Ben. He could be playing right now.
Carter turned to Devin. “There’s a party at Molly’s tonight. It’s just a handful of guys – mostly girls. You wanna go?”
“I got a date with Tasha.”
“Come after, bring her. District championship tonight, we gotta celebrate.”
“Molly is Zach’s girl, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re my boy, Carter, but I can’t be hanging around them. And I sure as hell can’t have my girl around their bullshit. I don’t know how you can stand it.”
Carter looked away. “Amber’s friends with their girlfriends. They’re not that bad.”
Devin shrugged, put his hands in his armpits, and turned back to the game.
; * * *
Carter sat on a stained brown couch wearing a black hooded sweatshirt emblazoned with District Champs 1991. Zach snored in the recliner adjacent to him. A half-full forty-ounce was nestled in the crook of his arm like a baby. Carter placed his own bottle on the coffee table in front of him. A quarter-inch of warm malt liquor floated at the bottom. Amber and her friends were laughing in the kitchen. Carter stood up, woozy, and staggered toward their voices. Amber, Lilly, and Molly passed around a bottle of booze and play-fought over who was the biggest whore.
“I’m not a whore, I only fuck Carter,” Amber said with a grin.
“What’s he like?” Lilly asked. Her eyes and mouth were droopy. A piece of lettuce was stuck in her upper braces. She leaned on Molly.
Carter scowled.
“I can’t look at that shit anymore,” Amber said. “It was funny an hour ago. Now it’s just gross.”
Molly cackled.
“What?” Lilly asked.
“Come here,” Amber said. Lilly stumbled over. “Open your mouth.” Amber pulled the green lettuce leaf from her upper braces and held it up to Lilly. “This shit was in your braces.”
Lilly scrunched her face up. “Ewww, you guys. Don’t let me walk around like that.”
Molly took a swig from the strawberry booze bottle, her red lipstick leaving a stain. She was tall and curvy, with black velvet pants and a low-cut red sweater that would’ve been obscene were it not for the long red hair hanging over her breasts.
“You didn’t answer Lilly’s question?” Molly said to Amber. “What is he like?” Molly glanced at Carter with a grin.
Carter held out his palms. “I’m right here.”
The girls giggled.
“At least we’re not talking about you behind your back,” Amber said.
“I think I’d prefer it that way.” Carter walked back into the living room and sat on the couch.
“His body’s rock hard, just like his dick,” Amber said. The girls laughed.
“How big is it?” Lilly asked.
There was a pause then more laughter.
“Have you ever had an orgasm?” Molly asked.
“You mean orgasms?” Amber emphasized the ‘s’.
They cackled.
“What about Zach?” Amber asked.
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