by S. A. Wolfe
“Why is he here?”
Lauren groans.
Imogene puts up her palm up to Lauren. “Gee, maybe because he’s in love with you and wants to work through your silly issues, so he can get over to the hospital to see his brother.”
“Me, silly? How about a guy who sleeps in his truck?”
Imogene yanks my bed covers back. She is furious. “Stop it. I mean it. Get up and throw on some clothes and get down there this minute.”
“What’s with you? What happened to all the hugs and understanding I got last night from you two? Now I’m the bad guy again?”
“No, you’re the stupid guy,” Lauren says. “You have a wonderful man who is crazy about you and I don’t mean crazy in the way Dylan obsessed over you and got jealous over every person who looked your way. Carson is a once in a lifetime deal. I would give whatever I could to have someone care about me the way he has for you. It takes a lot of fortitude for a man to pursue a challenging woman despite the fact that she slept with his brother, don’t you think?”
I get out of bed and look out the window.
“He’s still asleep,” Imogene says. “I saw him when I let out Bert.”
Lauren hands me a pair of jeans and a sweater.
“Carson is no saint,” I say as I get dressed.
“No one is, but you’re not going to find a man who’s better than him,” Imogene replies.
“I’m only twenty-one and you’re trying to push me into marrying this guy?”
“I’m doing no such thing and he didn’t propose. But it really pisses me off when people I love act like idiots and screw up great opportunities.”
“I’m the idiot?”
Lauren nods. “Yes. Go talk to him.”
“And say what?”
“I can’t watch this train wreck again. God, I wish I could have a cigarette!” Imogene says, storming out of the room.
I turn to Lauren. “Well? What do I say?”
“The truth. He’s not expecting miracles. He’s not like Dylan at all, Jess. Carson doesn’t expect you to shit rainbows and look like a goddess every day. Unlike Dylan, Carson is a realist and he’s mature enough to know that relationships of a lifetime happen over a lifetime, not over a four week fuck-frenzy.”
“Dylan did take dreamer to a whole new scary level,” I mumble. “But I still don’t know what you expect me to say to Carson?”
“You tell him what matters. What’s important to him? You. His brother. Keeping everyone together. He’s not asking for promises or guarantees from you. He’s only hoping you’ll consider him, even if it has to go on hold for a while.”
I deliberate over her words and realize she’s the first friend who has spoken so honestly about my own fears. She’s right, Carson never placed demands on me to give or say anything that didn’t come naturally to me, unlike Dylan who was practically begging for me to say ‘I love you’. Lovable, adorable Dylan and his haywire mood swings.
When I step out onto the porch with a hot steaming mug of coffee, Carson is standing outside of his truck taking in a long, graceful, arching stretch. He doesn’t notice me, so I use the opportunity to admire his incredible body, sculpted in all the right places with those strikingly serious eyes that make him absurdly handsome.
When he sees me, he smiles.
Ah, he is so forgiving.
I walk towards him slowly, making sure not to spill the coffee. He leans back against his truck and watches me with a tender expression.
I hand him the mug and he takes a sip, keeping his eyes on me.
“What possessed you to sleep out here all night?” I wrap my arms around myself to prevent my oversized sweater from letting in the cool drafts.
Carson is in a short-sleeved T-shirt and he looks perfectly fine with the chilling temperatures. I shiver and he rests the mug on the roof of his truck while he reaches inside the cab for his jacket. He drapes it across my shoulders and I smell him in the wool; scents of pine, musk and sawdust.
“You,” he answers. “I stayed because the thought of going home and trying to sleep after our fight sounded impossible. I didn’t want to stare at the ceiling all night, wondering what I should have said or done differently. It was easier to stay here and sleep in the truck, knowing that you were only ten feet away.”
When he says things like that, it makes my heart sing and I want to hug him as I revel in the safety of his arms. Yet I know it would lead to sex and that seems to be the problem. These proffers of love are difficult for me to accept when they’re attached to sex.
Perhaps it’s my inexperience at both love and sex. They arrived in my life at the same time, so it’s next to impossible for me to separate the two and ascertain if the love is genuine or if it’s merely a side effect to making love. Besides, I never refer to what I did with Dylan as making love. To me it was sex, getting it on, or fucking. Then I reflect on that day in Carson’s bed. I never once felt like we were fucking in the impersonal sense of the word. I could almost touch the joy that was surrounding me like a bubble when I was in Carson’s orbit; whether it was at Barron’s Creek, in my kitchen, or in his bed.
I look around, avoiding eye contact with him because I have to craft my words carefully. How do you tell a man that you want to be with him, but not yet? That you like him, although you’re not sure you can return his love? How do say this delicately enough so that he waits for you?
I can’t ask Imogene and Lauren since they have already left for the diner. Besides, they would give me a scathing speech about stringing Carson along. First Dylan then Carson, as though I’m one of the popular, bitchy girls in school. That’s what this seems like. I’ve finally made it to the high school ranks of popularity.
Imogene’s question is appropriate. Am I ready to be a grownup?
“Thank you,” I say at a loss for a better response.
“Why are you thanking me?” He crosses his arms and stays in his relaxed position against the truck as if he’s trying really hard not to touch me, not to set me off. It makes me feel like I’m a bomb.
“Because you have been very forgiving and kind through all of this and I made some very harsh statements. I’m not saying what I said last night is wrong, but the way I said it was distasteful. I am not proud of myself.”
Carson looks down at the ground. I watch his jaw clench and flex. “So sleeping on it didn’t help. We’re still stuck where we were last night. You want to blame yourself for being with Dylan and me for not asking you out sooner?”
I don’t say anything. I have nothing wise to add to my original argument.
“Tell me what you want, Jess. Do you want me to go away for good?”
“No.” I definitely don’t want him to go away. It might be a good test to see if my heart breaks, or to see if I actually have a heart, however, I don’t think I could survive that test. “I want to… I’m going to use one of Lois’s terms, so don’t laugh, but I want to find my center. I want to figure out what I’m doing. I’m not a care-free spirit like my Aunt Virginia was. I’m very much a product of my upbringing and my parents taught me to figure out what I need to do. I’m good at that. But now I want to figure out what I want to do, too.
“My parents used to direct my life. It’s my turn to take the reins. So I’m going to say those dreaded words and I don’t want you to correct me. I need a break from romantic entanglements and relationships. I want to see Dylan get better, I want to know you the way everyone else in this town knows and trusts you, but I’m not going to be sharing anyone’s bed for now. That’s what I think I should do.”
Carson studies me for a moment and then lets out a deep sigh. “Fuck. I didn’t know I was an entanglement.”
“You’re not. It was a bad choice of words. I need to be on my own for a while.”
“You’ve been on your own for years,” he says. “Your parents sent you out into the world when you were fourteen. A kid making adult decisions is never easy.”
“You did it, too, but you’ve also had a
few years to be your own boss. I need to process everything in my own way and I can’t keep accepting everyone else’s opinions because it only confuses me at this point.”
“How much time do you need?”
“This isn’t something I can schedule onto the calendar like one of your renovation projects. I need time for myself and it will take as long as it takes. Is that okay with you?”
Carson gives me a hesitant smile and relaxes his arms. He looks positively gorgeous with his messy hair and unshaven face. “I’m fine with that. There’s no statute of limitations on my feelings for you.”
I wish he’d stop being so accommodating. It only makes me want to jump in his arms and have reckless sex with him.
“Ah…” I stammer, contemplating how to end this conversation without blowing it forever.
“Do you know why I could sleep out here all night?” he asks.
“Because you’re made of steel?”
He smiles at my attempts to delicately diffuse the tension.
“Because you never fell in love with my brother.”
“What?” I look at him with confusion.
“You didn’t fall in love with my brother or any other guy for that matter. That gives me hope that I’ll be the one and only.”
I am floored and quite pleased that he would confess that to me.
“I don’t care who you’ve slept with in the past. Okay, that’s bullshit, but I can’t change that. What I do want, however, is to be the first and last guy you fall in love with.” He delivers this declaration with a confident inflection like an ambitious colonial statesman, except I doubt references to sex would ever be uttered in a John Adams speech. It’s Carson’s old-fashioned perspective on how people should behave that makes me fall harder for him.
Abandoning my earlier remarks about needing more time, I reach up and kiss him, putting my arms around his neck. He doesn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity I’ve given him. He kisses me savagely. One of his hands holds my head while the other grabs my ass and pulls me in closer. I press into his hard body and it feels right. It would be so easy to think with my urges and the raging hormones that are begging me to give into Carson; to hold him, to make love to him, to love him. I don’t trust anything that comes so easily.
The kiss ends slowly, neither of us wanting to stop since it means we’ll have to get on with the business of real life.
“Everyone tells me that you are exceptional as a person. It’s true. But I still need more time, Carson.”
His façade is solemn.
“I owe you a huge apology for acting like a brute, at least that’s how Imogene put it. I’m sorry.” He hands the coffee mug back to me.
“I’m kind of getting used to you busting down my doors, but I really do need some more time.”
“Okay,” Carson says.
Thirty
Three weeks have passed since the accident and we’re already being threatened with an early winter, a dusting of snow in October.
Dylan’s bruising has faded completely and his follow-up medical exams have been clear. He started seeing a new psychiatrist two weeks ago when he went back to work. The new anti-depressant he’s trying needs another week or so before its full effect kicks in, but Dylan thinks they’re working and his spirits are up. He’s hopeful.
I know this because, when I’m not bogged down in 5 Alpha work or attempting a yoga class, we meet for lunch at least twice a week at Bonnie’s and talk like we’re old friends. He sometimes brings Leo and Jeremy along so we can hang out with Lauren and Imogene while they work.
During those times our conversations are light, mostly about life in general, but when Dylan and I are alone, our conversations turn to our personal, yet separate, struggles. There’s nothing sexual or romantic about it. Dylan is still beautiful in that angelic way, yet we have evolved into friends with a shared past and my affections for him have become more of a sisterly fondness. He seems more serene in general and is looking forward to moving into the residential treatment center in Massachusetts next week after the annual Blackard Designs party that Carson hosts in his home every year.
I have been invited to the party, too, along with three hundred other people. Although I see Carson periodically, at this point, I don’t trust myself and I’m still uneasy about spending any time alone with him. Dylan and I have been officially over for a couple of months and it makes it easier for me to talk to him since I’m not worried about how he perceives me sexually or romantically. That’s what makes it tough, too. Dylan is my past, and Carson is my present and future; if I have a future with him.
We’re sitting in a window booth, the last diners at the end of the lunch rush. The staff is in the kitchen eating their own meal and cleaning while I watch Dylan wolf down a burger and fries. He keeps his head shaved and it shows off the scars that have gone from a fleshy-neon pink to an opaque whitish-rose color. I want to reach over and rub his head, which I and the other women do often. His fuzzy scalp is irresistible.
“Keep your hair like that and the women are going to fawn over you, touching your head. And the scars make you look a little dangerous,” I say as he grins at me.
“Just what I need, more women.”
“They are going to be all over you at Carson’s shindig. You wait and see. They’ll come out of the woodwork.”
“I have no doubt. I expect to get laid before I go off to the crazy house.”
“Don’t say that. I’m really proud of you. So is Carson.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No, we haven’t spoken. Other than ‘hello’ when we bump into each other at the store.”
“That’s the problem. You have to talk to him, the same way you’re talking to me. Well, except we’re not together anymore, so maybe you want to talk to him in a guy-getting way. Whatever spells or Jedi mind tricks chicks do to get our attention. Does that make sense?”
“No, not at all, but I’m really relieved you and I are on speaking terms. We’re better friends now, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” He finishes gulping his water and puts the glass down. “My new medication makes me really thirsty, or maybe I’m imagining it. Anyway, you should be with Carson.” He blurts that last part out. I assume the medication makes him a little incoherent, except I understand him perfectly.
I sigh and avert my gaze to the empty diner.
“I’m serious. Carson is the best human being on the whole planet.”
“That’s quite an endorsement,” I say dryly.
“It’s true. You’ll never regret being with Carson. He’s been in love with you this whole time. I was so persistent with you because I wanted something that belonged to Carson.”
“Gee, thanks. I don’t belong to anyone.”
Dylan leans across the table and takes my hands in his. “And you don’t get to decide who Carson loves. He loves me and you. Maybe you’re not ready to love him back, but Carson doesn’t change his plans. He’s like you. He thinks about something a long time and follows through on it. I wouldn’t be here today if Carson hadn’t picked up where my parents left off. He raised me and planned a future for me. I fucked up a lot of times, but here I am. Carson saved me again and again, and this time I’m going to follow through on the plan. I’m going to live and breathe that therapy program for however long it takes. Six weeks, three months. I’m going to succeed and then I’m coming back to make Blackard Designs even better.”
“Good.” I smile and squeeze his hand.
“Good? Did you not hear the part where I said you and Carson are alike? Stop putting me in this position where I have to talk about you and some other guy. Seriously.” He’s trying to be jokey, yet it’s not an easy topic for either of us.
“I didn’t ask you to talk about Carson.”
“Yeah, but if you won’t talk about him, then I’m sort of obligated to push this along. He’s my brother and I screwed things up for him. Plus, you’re my friend and I owe you some truths. I’m trying to point out how
perfect you two are for each other.”
“You don’t have to.” I don’t think I can hear another lecture nor have someone sing Carson’s praises to me.
“See, you sound just like Carson.”
“Well, there you go. I don’t want to date myself.”
“Ha. Funny. Listen, you spent years following through on your academic goals and your painting. He did the same with his furniture company and me. I have been Carson’s biggest project. You and Carson are both very strong, persistent people. You take your time and you do the right thing.”
“You don’t think I’ve made some hasty decisions since you’ve known me?”
Dylan laughs loudly. “You mean me?”
“Yes, you.”
“In your defense, I got you when you were very vulnerable. I was like an eagle diving in on its defenseless prey.”
I scoff and laugh with him.
“A lot has changed in the last five months, hasn’t it?” He’s serious again.
“Yes.” I put my hands back in my lap. “I feel like a different person, too. Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Dylan says quietly. “But not Carson. He’s the same. You can always count on him.”
“You could sell used cars. You can count on this one!” I mock.
Dylan chuckles. “You should call your parents more often.”
“What made you think of them?” I ask.
“You’ve been here long enough. I don’t know why you haven’t asked them to come visit. It’s nice that you have parents. I wish I did. I don’t want to sound preachy. I know you haven’t seen eye to eye with them over the last couple of years, or ever, but they did push you in the right direction, getting an education. They raised a great daughter. You should give them some credit and throw them a bone sometime. I bet they’d love to hear from you.”
“Huh. Well, I’m still a little miffed about them keeping me away from my aunt all these years and they have never cared much about my art.”
“Big deal. I used to complain about Carson being too bossy and controlling, but he was there for me. I’ll give him credit for that. You need to stop acting like you’re all alone, that you have to make every decision by yourself. You have parents and friends. Did you even notice I’m using the speech you gave me about not doing it alone?”