Ethan, Who Loved Carter (19 page)

“No.”

“Just these ones.” Ethan gathered them up from Carter’s palm.

“Okay.”

Carter put the pill bottles into his pocket. He didn’t allow himself to think about why he did that instead of leaving them on the night stand. “Want me to leave you alone?”

Ethan nodded, already disappearing into the bedclothes.

“Come down for lunch.”

Ethan didn’t respond.

He didn’t come for lunch, either. At two o’clock, Carter took a sandwich up to him. He’d done nothing but worry all morning, and look up any news he could find about Ethan’s accident and read blogs about and by traumatic brain injury survivors. Each story was so different he wasn’t sure if he’d learned anything to help him help Ethan. He left the sandwich on the night stand and kissed Ethan to wake him. He felt hot, flushed across his brow. Carter peeled the top blanket off and folded it at the foot of the bed. “Ethan. You need to eat.”

Ethan opened his eyes enough to glare and closed them again. Carter climbed into bed and prodded Ethan to sit up until Carter could sit behind him. Ethan scooted down without being told so Carter could see over his shoulder. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Carter tapped the sandwich to Ethan’s lips. Ethan turned his face away and lay against Carter’s stomach. After a few more attempts with no success, Carter put the sandwich down and stroked Ethan’s hair instead. It was strange for Ethan to be so quiet. The silence discomfited Carter more than the crying had. “You’re going to be okay.” Was it a promise or a plea? Ethan had fallen asleep again, so maybe it didn’t matter.

W
HEN
Ethan was in the hospital after his accident-that-wasn’t-an-accident, he played with his penis all the time. He didn’t remember it, but his father had told him. He’d needed to learn again about being private and that people got uncomfortable when Ethan pulled his penis out and stroked it, especially when they were talking about other things. One time, he started playing with it while his parents talked with another visitor about the traffic on the way to the hospital, which Ethan thought was hilarious when his Dad told him, but Dad said it wasn’t funny.

He played with himself a lot while Carter was downstairs, tugging and tugging, but his penis never got hard. Maybe it would never get hard again, but Ethan tugged on it anyway and touched the head with his thumb in the special way he liked. Even though he couldn’t remember what he’d done in the hospital, he could guess why he’d played with himself. He’d wanted something of himself to hold onto, and his penis had always been there for him, but now it shrunk away from his touch. Carter’s sandwich was going stale beside him, and Ethan hadn’t touched the milk except for taking his pills. He was being bad, he knew, but Carter didn’t scold him. He just looked worried, and that was worse. Ethan pulled the blanket over his head so he didn’t have to see.

Carter climbed in bed in his boxers and T-shirt. Ethan hadn’t realized it was time to sleep. He slept almost all day anyway. Carter’s penis pressed against Ethan’s leg, but it was soft like Ethan’s. Ethan petted it over the fabric, feeling clumsy, but Carter moved Ethan’s hand to Carter’s hip. “You have to promise me to get out of bed tomorrow.”

Ethan nodded. Promises didn’t mean anything unless he said them out loud. Carter kicked in his sleep and thrashed around until Ethan gathered him up and held him. He was good at protecting Carter while they were safe in Carter’s house. His penis stirred, like it agreed, but it didn’t get hard. Carter rolled into Ethan’s arms.

He didn’t get up in the morning, anyway, and he ignored Carter when he reminded Ethan of his promise. He took all his pills, though, including the antidepressant. Dad woke him up knocking on the door and called, “Pal? Hey, Pal, can I come in?” But Ethan yelled for him to go away and Dad said “I love you” and “I’ll come back” and then Ethan heard him walking away. Ethan almost wished that he’d come in, but then he remembered he was angry at Dad for lying.

Carter brought him a new sandwich later and situated himself on the bed to work.

“Want to be alone.” Ethan poked Carter to make him move.

“My house, Ethan,” Carter said. Ethan prodded him until Carter smacked his hand, but it was a light smack, not like Carter was trying to hurt him. He didn’t even move when Ethan flung the covers off to tug on his penis, but after Ethan started to cry because he’d never get hard again, not ever, Carter reached down to cover Ethan’s hand with one of his and together they held it. Carter kissed Ethan’s ear. “I love you.”

Ethan couldn’t express all the emotions Carter made him feel. He hid his face in Carter’s neck. “You’re the best thing, Carter. You’re the best thing in the world.” Carter squeezed his penis, but Ethan still didn’t get hard. He held onto Carter, tight. Carter must have recognized how much Ethan needed Carter, because he squeezed back and hooked his leg around Ethan’s legs and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him.

Ethan breathed hard when they broke apart.

“You know,” Carter said, “dicks don’t like it when their owners don’t eat. Maybe you could try a bite of the sandwich?”

Ethan twisted so he could look down between his legs. His penis looked a little red from rubbing against Carter, but it didn’t hurt. Maybe a sandwich
would
help. “I guess I’ll try it.” Carter might be making that up, but he didn’t make stuff up much. Carter smiled big, and that made Ethan glad. He chomped into the sandwich. In seconds, he realized he was starving.

“Oh thank God,” Carter said. “Your dad said if you didn’t eat by tomorrow, you’d have to go to the hospital.”

“Don’t like it,” Ethan said, with a full mouth. “Did force feeding before. It’s not any good.”

“No. I bet it’s not.”

He took another bite and shoved almost half the sandwich into his mouth. “Hurts. This is good.”

“See?” Carter wiped a crumb off Ethan’s cheek with his thumb. “You’ve been missing out on my grandma’s strawberry jam. She mailed it special.”

Ethan licked crumbs off his lips and reached for the milk.

“Will you come downstairs? Please?”

“Can we watch a movie?” He did feel a little better after eating. Maybe getting up wouldn’t be so bad.

“Sure.”

Pushing Carter’s papers away, Ethan fixed him with a stern expression. “No work.”

Carter smiled. “No work.”

“Okay.” Ethan kissed Carter’s nose. “Let’s go.”

Downstairs, they settled on the couch to watch a movie. Ethan wanted popcorn, but Carter made him eat a bowl of soup first. It was chicken, and the brand Ethan liked, so that was okay. They cuddled under the blanket during the film. Ethan tried not to stare too much at Carter because Carter didn’t like being stared at, which Ethan understood, but Carter’s tics were worse. He made more noises now, like spitting, but without actually spitting, and he clicked his tongue. Carter didn’t say anything about it, so Ethan didn’t either. Maybe Carter didn’t know. Ethan liked watching Carter’s mouth and seeing his tongue. He put his thumb out for Carter to suck and wished it was his penis when Carter grinned at him and grabbed his hand and really went for it.

“I wish you’d suck on my penis,” Ethan said.

Carter grinned bigger and shimmied beneath the blanket and a second later Ethan felt Carter’s hands on his waistband and then Carter’s mouth
was
on him. It felt great. He got hard, but not all the way, not even after ten minutes. Carter didn’t seem to mind, though, which was probably because Ethan had a big penis and it was difficult for Carter to take it all into his mouth when Ethan was ready for sex.

“Hey.” Carter slid back up and straddled Ethan’s lap. He reached down to stroke Ethan’s penis. “It’s stress. You know, you got a big shock. Can’t expect the little guy to be up and ready after that. It’ll be okay.”

“What do you mean, little?” Ethan asked. He gave Carter a pretend glare, which made Carter laugh. Ethan felt a little better, though, because he’d been worried about his penis, but what Carter said made sense. They kissed. Ethan tilted his neck so Carter could reach Ethan’s favorite places. Carter’s penis was hard through his sweatpants, so Ethan flipped him over and dragged them down so he could suck it. He loved sucking Carter’s penis because Carter made a lot of noise and it was exciting to hear him. Plus, Ethan loved how Carter said his name, like he wanted the whole world to hear it, which was funny because Carter didn’t like talking about sex except in private.

When Carter made semen in Ethan’s mouth, Ethan swallowed everything and sucked out every drop. Then he pushed his tongue into Carter’s slit until Carter stopped saying his name and went “uhh” and turned flat and floppy in his whole body. He was difficult to move like that, so Ethan nudged up behind him, which was a tight fit on the couch. He held Carter’s penis as it went soft. He liked to touch it, almost as much as he liked touching his own. Carter blinked a few times, his mouth hung open in a yawn, and he wasn’t ticcing any. Ethan kissed him and swished his tongue around in Carter’s mouth to share Carter’s taste. The rest of the movie was pretty good, not that Carter saw any of it. He slept. Ethan stayed quiet so he wouldn’t wake him. He could tell Carter about what he missed later.

A
FTER
Carter convinced Ethan to eat, Ethan started spending time downstairs, but he still refused to see anyone except Carter. That left Carter to field the calls. Vera had gotten Carter’s home phone number and called daily. He also received calls late at night accompanied by shouting in the background and the caller swearing at someone to be quiet, which seemed to come from Ethan’s friends at the beach, though the rotating callers—the shouting remained the same—never identified themselves.

“You don’t want to see your friends?” Carter asked. He hung up the phone after promising either Frankie or Rolla—their voices had the same rough timbre—that he’d tell Ethan about the call.

“No.”

“What about Elliot?” Elliot had returned to school. Carter saw him every morning and afternoon when the school bus came. He never glanced at Carter’s house, instead keeping his head fixed forward until he disappeared into his home.

“No.”

At least Ethan was eating. He’d done a full turn around on his hunger strike and now gobbled down anything in Carter’s kitchen that didn’t require preparation. Using the hand-vac, Carter vacuumed up cracker crumbs from the couch and threw away empty boxes that Ethan left scattered around.

“You could help,” Carter said.

“’M sad,” Ethan said.

“I dare you to ever say that to my mother and see if it gets you out of housework.”

Ethan blinked his big eyes and solemnly lifted his feet for Carter to vacuum under. In addition to ignoring Carter’s attempts to get him to help clean around the house, Ethan paid no attention when Carter mentioned that he might like to take a shower and clean
himself
. He hadn’t washed since the night he arrived, but Carter couldn’t blame him for avoiding it after that meltdown.

Figuring that having Ethan out of bed was better than nothing, Carter let him carry on watching television on the couch and acting like cheesy fish-shaped crackers were a treat. For lunch and dinner each day, Carter made sandwiches, which Ethan ate even though he’d spent the day munching.

Carter had been inside as long as Ethan. He didn’t notice time passing when avoiding people was his idea, but when it wasn’t his choice, he discovered he felt like a caged animal. He stood out in the yard sometimes, looking up to the sky for Ethan’s music while Ethan stayed inside and wouldn’t come out. “No music now,” Ethan said when Carter returned, and Carter nodded because he hadn’t heard anything. That was the most infuriating thing, and the aspect that Carter suspected had the biggest effect on Ethan. Ethan’s learning the truth of his accident had stolen the music from him. Ethan showed only mild interest when Carter pulled out their song, but at least it was interest. Carter started “forgetting” the folder on the coffee table in an attempt to entice Ethan with it.

He played his guitar. Days that he earned a hum from Ethan, never mind a sung word, were worthy of celebration.

Two weeks, maybe more, of being inside and Carter wanted to explode. Ethan wasn’t getting better. Everything was rote, even his kisses. Carter couldn’t blame him for that; Ethan’s erections continued to elude him, and Carter had begun to suspect that his own arousal embarrassed Ethan because he couldn’t reciprocate.

When Ethan left the kitchen looking like it was a cereal war zone, Carter gathered up the junk food and surveyed his pantry. Ethan, up from the couch, stood in the doorway watching. “I need to go for groceries. Can I leave you here alone?” Carter asked.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to come? You can wait in the car.” He inquired with empty hope, although he wished Ethan would say yes.

Ethan had dragged the comforter off the bed and was walking around the house with it wrapped around his shoulders. “No.”

“All right. Do you want anything?”

“Cheetos.” He answered without hesitation, leaving Carter to wonder how long he’d had the craving and not said anything. That was worrying too. Ethan always said what he wanted; his depression made him almost a different person.