Initiation
Page 20
“You’re not making any sense.” She reached across the table. He snatched his hand back.
“I’m not? I think I’m making perfect sense.”
“Carter, stop. It’s going to be fine. I’ll come home in the summer and at Christmas. You work all the time anyway.”
“And how long before you stop coming home, or you come home with a Northwestern boyfriend?”
“That’s not gonna happen.”
He crossed his arms. “How do you know?”
“Well, I don’t know, but that’s what I think.” She shook her head. “Why can’t you just be happy for me and see what happens?”
“So I’m supposed to just pretend like everything’s fine until you decide to get rid of me.”
She scowled. “If you want to keep me so bad, this is not a good way to go about it.”
He shook his head. “This is so fucked up. You kept this from me because you knew our relationship would be over the second you left.”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d completely blow it out of proportion.”
The waiter sidled up to the table. “Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“Could we have the check please?” Carter said, still glaring at Sarah.
“Of course,” the waiter said. He retreated quickly.
“I’m not blowing it out of proportion,” Carter said. “I don’t think I’m making a big enough deal about this.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “You don’t even fucking care, do you?”
“I’m starting not to.”
“So when you go to school surrounded by rich kids and they ask you about your boyfriend, what are you gonna say?”
Her mouth was flat. “I don’t know.”
“Let me help then. You can tell ’em that your boyfriend goes to community college and he’s really good at picking up dog shit and mowing grass. I’m sure they’ll be impressed.”
The ride home was silent. Carter kept his eyes focused on the road, his mind floating elsewhere. Sarah sat against the passenger door as far from Carter as possible. She stared out the window, her arms crossed. Carter parked the truck in front of Sarah’s townhouse. She opened the door to get out before the truck had even fully stopped.
“Sarah –”
She turned, her eyes puffy. She slammed the door and ran up the sidewalk to her house. Carter blinked, tears welling up in his eyes. He drove a couple of miles down the road to Landsdowne. He parked in the visitor’s space across from a brick-faced end unit and opened the wooden gate that housed the stamp-sized backyard. An outdoor light on the house illuminated the yard. A patch of grass was split down the middle by flagstones that led to a small concrete patio that matched the size of the wooden deck overhead. He followed the path to the back door of the walkout basement. Windows flanked the door, allowing for natural light. He pressed his key into the deadbolt, turned the latch and opened the door. He slipped his dress shoes off just inside the threshold. The living room was devoid of furniture. It was dark, but enough light from the lamp outside filtered in to allow for navigation. He shuffled through the living room with his head down. He opened the bedroom door. A single bed sat against the far wall. The bed was made, with his bedspread pulled taut. Rose petals were arranged atop the comforter in a heart shape. He pulled off his jacket and dropped it on the floor. He brushed the petals to the carpet with a single swipe of his arm. Carter climbed under the covers and wrapped them tight around him. He lay on his side, his eyes open, long into the night.
* * *
His eyelids fluttered. He heard slow shuffling steps above him. The low morning sun shone through the basement windows, rousing him from an uneasy sleep. Carter stretched his legs and pulled the comforter from his body. His button down shirt was rumpled. He stood and staggered to the bathroom, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He urinated, washed his hands, and brushed his teeth. He grabbed his jacket from the floor and trekked across the empty living room. At the basement door, he slipped his shoes back on and exited.
Carter pulled his truck into the visitor’s spot near his parents’ townhouse. He trudged to the garage door and yanked on the metal handle. It was locked. He climbed the steps, opened the front door, and walked inside. Jim sat on the recliner, his nose in the newspaper. Grace was at the stove top, cooking scrambled eggs. Jim closed his paper and slapped it on the arm of his chair. He stood, glaring at Carter. He had a hole in his pajama bottoms near the crotch. He didn’t wear underwear. A bit of his scrotum was clearly visible. Carter kept his eyes up after the initial grotesque exposure.
“Where have you been all night?” Jim said, moving to block Carter’s path.
Carter stopped. “I stayed at my house.”
Grace pulled the eggs from the burner.
Jim crossed his arms, his biceps bulging. “You’re not gonna come and go like this is a fuckin’ hotel. If you wanna live with your little girlfriend, you can’t live here.”
“Your father’s right, Carter,” Grace said, pointing the spatula for emphasis. “You are not permitted to live with your girlfriend. You may be eighteen, but you are not an adult until you can support yourself.”
Carter shook his head and rubbed his temples. “I never said anything about living with my girlfriend.” He clenched his jaw, scowling at his parents. “And another thing. He’s not my father, and he never will be.”
“Carter!” Grace said.
Jim’s lips curled up for a split second. He grabbed a handful of Carter’s shirt, pulling him close. “And when was the last time you heard from your father?”
“Get your hands off me,” Carter said.
“Jim, let go,” Grace said.
Jim chuckled and released his grip. Carter stepped back.
“Been a long time, hasn’t it?” Jim said. “Your father wanted me to adopt you because he was such a cheap ass that he didn’t even wanna pay your child support.”
Carter shrugged. “I really don’t care about either of you.”
“Carter Matthew, what has gotten into you?” Grace said.
“I’m leaving,” Carter said with a professional poker face.
Jim laughed.
“Stop this craziness,” Grace said. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Where the fuck are you goin’?” Jim said.
“It’s none of your business. I just came to get my stuff.”
Jim clenched his fists, his face red. He moved into Carter’s personal space. “Your stuff was purchased with my money, so it’s my stuff.”
“Not all of it,” Carter said. “I’ve been paying for my own stuff.”
Jim half-snorted, half-laughed. “You were a minor until what – last week? It’s all mine. I shoulda been chargin’ you rent.”
Carter nodded, a smirk on his face. “Too bad you didn’t have a contract. Now get outta my way. And if you touch me, I’ll file assault charges. Don’t think I won’t.”
“You can take your clothes, but everything else stays.”
“Fine,” Carter replied. “Move outta my way.”
Jim stepped back, his eyes narrowed. Carter slipped past.
“This is silly, honey,” Grace said to Carter as he started down the basement steps.
Carter shut his bedroom door, pressed the lock on the handle, and took a deep breath. He opened his closet. A box the size of a microwave sat on the top shelf. His heartbeat pounded as he pushed it aside. A wave of relief washed over him as he saw the shoebox, his makeshift piggy bank, taped up and safe. His relief turned to panic as soon as he picked up the box. It felt different. As he brought it down to eye level, he saw it. He felt nauseated. The tape was cut. He opened the top, confirming what he already knew. The box was empty. His money was gone.
His heart pounded in his chest. His mouth felt dry and frothy, like a rabid dog’s. He ripped his door open and sprinted up the steps. Grace stood like a statue as her son blew by. Jim shot out of his recliner, standing flat-footed. One side of Jim’s mouth curled up, almost in a smile. He expected the oncoming train to
stop. The quickness and ferocity surprised him. Carter was at full speed when he launched himself at Jim’s head. He was all forearms and elbows to his stepfather’s face. Jim fell to the floor against the recliner. He was on his side, his bell ringing, his hands covering his head. Carter was a rabid animal, pummeling Jim’s face. Some of the blows smashed Jim’s fingers. Some smashed his nose, his jaw, his ears, his eyes. Jim’s face bled; his nose was off-kilter. Eventually Jim’s hands fell away, his body slack against the punches. Carter kept pounding until Jim’s face was unrecognizable.
Two loud bangs woke Carter from his rage. He stood and looked up from the bloody mess he had created. Grace stood at the bottom of the steps pointing Jim’s handgun at his chest. The rectangular Glock shook in her hands. Carter gazed down at his stepfather. His face looked like pulverized meat, blood covering every speck of white except for his expansive forehead. His knuckles had blood and bits of flesh attached to them. His wrists hurt; he couldn’t make a fist without searing pain. Blood droplets covered his shirt. He gazed at his mother. Her eyes were wide. Shame made him drop his gaze to her feet. They were obscured by the shopping bags piled near the steps, waiting to be carried upstairs. Tears slid down his face. Sirens pierced the air. Shortly after, police officers in helmets and body armor burst through the front door. He didn’t resist when he was taken down or when his hands were yanked behind his back. He grunted, the metal against his wrists cutting deep.
It wasn’t until Carter was sitting in the back of the police car that he realized the full gravity of his actions.
–20 –
Felonies and Misdemeanors
NORTH POTOMAC HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR,
SENTENCED TO PRISON
By: Evan Schultz
June 16, 1993
North Potomac High School senior, Carter Lynch, won’t be donning a blue cap and gown with the rest of his classmates at tomorrow’s graduation. He will be off to a new start in an orange jumpsuit.
On the morning of February 15, 1993, Carter Lynch, 18, attacked his stepfather, retired First Sergeant Jim Arnold. The 41 year-old retired army NCO sustained multiple injuries. These include a lower jaw fracture, nasal fracture, vision loss in his left eye, and (TBI) traumatic brain injury. He is not expected to fully recover from his injuries. It is likely that he will continue to struggle with memory loss and fine motor skills.
Lynch pleaded guilty to Malicious Wounding, a class 3 felony, to avoid the more serious charge of Aggravated Malicious Wounding, which could carry a life sentence. Judge Henry Thompson imposed the minimum mandatory sentence: five years in prison.
After the sentencing, Assistant District Attorney for the prosecution, Jennifer Hockley said, “Eighteen-year-olds are tried as adults, period, whether they were eighteen for a day or ten months. We have to have standards. Mr. Lynch’s violent actions will have detrimental lifelong effects on Jim Arnold’s quality of life.”
When asked about the alleged abuse Carter Lynch suffered at the hands of his stepfather Hockley said, “The bottom line is Carter Lynch is in perfect physical condition. Jim Arnold is not. My office successfully fought to make sure that Mr. Lynch would not be eligible for parole. He will serve every last second of his term.”
Defense Attorney Steve Dean made the following statement. “With all due respect to the victim and his family, this case was not as simple as Mr. Lynch committing an act of violence. There were mitigating circumstances that I am not at liberty to discuss given the terms of the plea bargain. My office believes that justice was served in reducing the possible life sentence to five years.”
* * *
The stainless steel stool that Carter sat on matched the table that it was affixed to. His hands were folded on the cold steel. He wore orange pants and an orange shirt, with a white T-shirt underneath. Men with blue shirts, ID badges, and dark trousers patrolled the room. Other men in orange, tattooed men, men with shaved heads, men in all sizes and colors sat across from their families and friends. Some spoke in whispers, some were jovial, some were formal. Some ate vending machine food. The guards watched closely when a child sat on an orange lap.
Carter stood as Sarah made her way across the linoleum, an ID badge attached to her thick T-shirt. She tiptoed through the scene as if she were afraid to touch anything. She approached with a forced smile, dark circles under her glassy eyes. Carter hugged her. She held on tight. A guard glared at them. Carter let go and sat down on the steel disc. Sarah sat opposite.
“Three seconds,” Carter said. “I think we can have a three second hug before they get upset.”
One side of her mouth turned up for a second. “How are you?” She searched Carter’s face. His black eye was fading.
He smirked. “Maybe you could write an article about the hazing here.”
“You look better than …”
“Last time.”
“Yes.” She nodded, her hands folded in her lap. “Are the Wheelers still visiting?”
He smiled. “Every week. I keep thinking they’re gonna get tired of coming, but every Saturday, they’re here.”
“Anyone else?”
“Devin came once with his dad. It was really nice of him. He’s at football camp now, University of Richmond.”
“I thought he was going to run track.”
“He’s doing both.”
“Good for him.”
“So, any news from the outside world?”
She scowled. “Did you hear about what happened with Justin and Zach?”
Carter mimicked her scowl. “Please tell me they didn’t get off.”
“They pleaded the charges down to sexual battery – an F-ing misdemeanor.” Her face went red. “They’ll be out in six months.” She leaned forward. “Your lawyer fucking sucked.” She whispered fucking sucked, so the guards wouldn’t hear. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. It just makes me so mad.”
Carter shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m pretty immune to disappointment these days. Besides, they still have to live with what they did, just like I do.”
“True.” Sarah’s face softened and she sat upright. “What you did wasn’t your –”
“So, the big day’s coming up. Are you all packed?”
She shrugged and stared at her hands.
“What?” he asked.
She looked up. “I just – can I be really honest with you?”
He half-smiled. “I should hope so.”
She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her T-shirt. “A big part of me wants to leave. To just forget about all this.”
He nodded.
“It’s killing me seeing you here. I can’t sleep. I just …” she wiped her eyes again.
Carter stood, asking the middle-aged inmate to his left if he could have the box of tissues on his table. The woman sitting with him glanced at Sarah and handed the box to Carter. He thanked them and sat back down in front of Sarah. He pushed the box across the table. Sarah whipped out a couple of tissues and dabbed the corners of her eyes.
After a moment Carter said, “You just what?”
She shook her head. “I just – I mean, every day I wonder if you’re hurt or dead or worse. I just can’t.”
Carter bit his lower lip. “I know.” He smiled, but his eyes were still. “Next week you’ll be in Illinois. Are you excited?”
“I am … is that terrible?”
“No.”
“I feel like a terrible person, like I’m abandoning you.”
“What are you supposed to do, wait around for five years?”
Her eyes were wet. “If you tell me not to go, I won’t go. If you need me to stay, I’ll stay.”
He frowned. “If you stay, I’ll feel like I’ve ruined your life too. I can’t live with that.”
She nodded and wiped her eyes once more with her tissue. She sat up straight, forcing a smile. “You do look better. You look better than me. I mean look at me. I’m a mess. You’d think I was the one in prison.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s getting better, but I’m not gonna lie to you. That first month was like living with a thousand Jims. They were testing me, to see if I would stand up or not. It was really stressful. The predators were trying to decide if I was a mark. You don’t know who to trust. Everyone’s trying to work an angle.”
“But now it’s better?”
“It’s still prison, but yeah. It’s better.”
Sarah glanced around to make sure nobody was listening. “Did anyone hurt you … like, more than physically?”
He smirked. “You mean did someone hurt my feelings?”
She looked around again, leaning forward. “Sexually.” She winced as if the word caused her pain.
He leaned forward, reached out, and put his hand on top of hers. “No.”
She exhaled as if she were holding her breath. Her shoulders slumped, the tension in her body eradicated with a simple two-letter word.
He squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, I passed the initiation. I made friends with some of the guys that lift weights. They were shocked at how much I can bench press. I have a bunch of ’em on my program now. I even made some friends in my anger management class. A lot of guys with dads like mine.”
“So what happens now?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’re gonna go to Northwestern. I’m gonna be happy for you. And we’ll see what happens.”
– 21 –
Fresh Fish and Second Chances
The sound was on mute, Carter’s focus dialed into the tip of the rotating football falling out of the sky. He stepped in front of the receiver and leaped, his arms reaching for the clouds. His fingers were outstretched, his hands forming an open triangle. The receiver jumped behind him, grasping at his arm. The football dropped into Carter’s grasp, his hands and fingers cradling it safely. He landed on his feet, a few yards inside the end zone. The receiver fell to the ground. He knew he should take a knee. It was over. There was nothing left to gain. But he saw nothing but green in front of him. He was off like a rocket, the precious cargo stashed tightly in the crook of his arm. He dashed down his team’s sideline. Players and coaches jumped up and down in blue uniforms. He knew he was being chased, but he didn’t look back. He knew this time it would be different.