Ethan, Who Loved Carter (23 page)

“You didn’t have to come back,” Ethan said.

“That’s what I told Mike.” He shrugged. “He was always the fucking ringleader.”

“Always? He was…?” Ethan struggled to ask who had attacked him first. Whose idea it had been.

“That was both of us,” Douglas said. “We were out looking for trouble and we were stupid kids filled with too much hate. You know how kids are.”

“My brother’s fifteen. He’s not like you.” Except. Except Elliot was always angry. Maybe Elliot
could
be like that.

“Right.” Douglas scrubbed his hand over his forehead. “Right. Well, messed up kids, then. We didn’t know, we just… aw, fuck, I never thought I’d be standing here saying this to you.”

“Was I… why me?”

“You were there and you were wearing these….” He gestured down his legs. “…leggings. Black. And a chiffon scarf and….” He turned away. “Do you want to hear this?”

Dizzy, Ethan nodded. No one else would tell him what had happened. Getting the truth from the person responsible made him feel sick, but he couldn’t back away from it.

“We went after you at the same time. Back then, we read each other’s minds. I had my baseball bat—we’d come from a game—and he pulled a broken umbrella out of the trash and… you were on your rollerblades going against traffic. You paused at an intersection. Mike swung at your head and I took out your knee.”

“My limp?” Ethan asked. His knee throbbed in response to its mention.

“From that or because once you were down we jumped on you and kicked you. I don’t think you were awake for most of it. You fought back for a few seconds, but Mike clocked you again and, well….” He looked away.

“How long?” Ethan asked.

“Maybe thirty seconds. Maybe longer. I don’t know. We got pulled off. Some fat guy sat on me until the police came. He pinned me to the sidewalk. I couldn’t see you because of the people gathered around, but your legs stuck out. You had blood on your leggings. I remember that.”

Ethan braced himself against the dumpster. The smell was secondary now. Thirty seconds. It had taken thirty seconds for his life to change. “I could have been… I was good in school. And with everything. You took my life away from me. I could have been amazing.” His family and friends would respond with “You are.” Douglas didn’t say anything. Any moment, Vera would stick her head out to see if he’d gotten lost. She’d say it as a joke, but from the look in her eyes, the spark of honest worry would give her away.

“I think you should go now.”

“Yeah.” Douglas rubbed his arms. He fidgeted more than Carter. “Look, I’m not going to talk to you anymore, but I can’t guarantee Mike won’t try. He had a turn-around in prison. I know this is hard to believe, but we came out reformed. Flying colors and all that.”

Ethan didn’t answer.

“I know it doesn’t matter to you. But we… we learned a lot in there.”

The door opened. Instead of Vera, Andy stuck his head out. “You get lost out—?” Seeing Douglas, he grabbed the broom that was kept against the wall inside and came out. “I’m skilled in broom combat.” Andy weighed a fraction of Douglas’s weight, but Douglas put his hands up and stepped back, bumping into the car.

“I’m going.”

“Ethan, are you okay?” Andy asked. He thrust the broom stick at Douglas.

“I want to go inside.” Andy stood guard as Ethan walked past Douglas. Once inside, Andy closed and locked the door.

“Sit down. I’ll go get Carter.” He ushered Ethan onto a box of imported coffee. “You okay here?” He brushed his thumb over Ethan’s cheek. Ethan moved away from the touch.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be right back.”

There was never enough light in the backroom. A bulb had burnt out three years ago and never been replaced. It hung in the socket, providing a reminder of the light it used to give. Ethan felt like that bulb sometimes. He wondered if Douglas had left or if he stood outside still. Pepper emerged from behind a shelf. She sniffed his knee and walked away. All this time Ethan had thought Douglas hated him. Now he didn’t know what to think. Carter would know.

“Ethan? What happened? Andy said Douglas was here.” Carter rushed to him, arms out. He squeezed onto the box to sit beside him. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

Ethan put his arm around Carter’s shoulders so Carter could wrap around Ethan’s midsection. “I want to go home. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Okay. I’ll take you now.”

“Thank you.” Ethan got up and took his apron off. Carter talked to Vera and then Ethan walked out without a word to anyone.

“See you tomorrow,” Vera said.

“We’ll see,” Carter answered for him.

Carter drove the wrong direction. “Where are we going?”

“The beach,” Carter said. “You’re not going to hide in bed.”

Ethan couldn’t think of a reason to say no, so he didn’t. Carter reached across the console for his hand. Ethan reviewed the reasons for Carter to hold his hand now. He wasn’t about to walk into traffic, he wasn’t distracted. He was sad.

“Boyfriends comfort each other,” Carter said.

“So do moms.”

“Am I your mom?”

Ethan couldn’t resist a smile. “No.”

“Are you sure? Can moms do this?” At a traffic light, Carter touched Ethan’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. He grinned as he released him.

“No.” Ethan smiled big. “Moms do not do that.”

“Darn right,” Carter said.

Ethan squeezed Carter’s hand. He had Carter. That was a good thing. It didn’t matter what Douglas had said, didn’t matter that Douglas had confused him even further. Everyone said to be angry. They’d hidden him from that anger for so long and now that he knew the truth, they expected him to feel it.

He didn’t feel anything like anger. He only felt grief, deep and horrible sorrow for what he’d lost, even if he didn’t remember much of what Before felt like in his brain. He couldn’t remember walking without trouble, or having a mind that could focus for more than thirty seconds at a time. But he must have been able to once because he remembered doing certain things, like singing and acting and schoolwork, and all that took concentration and precision that he no longer had.

“We can make it a short night if you want,” Carter said.

“Okay.” It wasn’t even four o’clock. “Can we just see?”

“Yeah. Whatever you want.” Carter pulled into a parking spot behind the caravan. They headed for the fire pit together. When Carter took Ethan’s arm, it was to help him walk over the sand dunes, a necessary touch, but it felt nice anyway, like Carter wanted to do it. He put his other hand on the small of Ethan’s back and scratched a little. Ethan pulled his arm free from Carter’s and put it around his shoulders. That was better.

“Like boyfriends,” Ethan said.

Carter smiled up at him. “Perfect.”

E
THAN
emerged from the dogpile of his friends frazzled but beaming. “I think they missed you,” Carter said. He reached up to help smooth the sand out of Ethan’s hair.

“Yeah, hey, sorry for all the shouty calls.” Frankie gave Carter a hug as Ethan wandered toward the campfire.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get him to come sooner,” Carter said. Ethan seemed at home now, sitting next to Rolla and holding a stick out for a hotdog. Carter went to join him.

After they ate, Horatio played a few songs. Carter leaned against Ethan’s warm side. Horatio was crazy talented, and Carter recognized how lucky he was to be able to hear him play. Ethan put his arm around him and lazily dragged his finger up Carter’s leg. Knowing Ethan as he did, Carter didn’t have to ask if Ethan was aware of how arousing that simple motion was. He had an uncanny knowledge of how to affect Carter with his touches. Carter was about to suggest that they head home when Horatio stopped playing.

“Come on, Carter. Today’s the day you show us what you can do.” Horatio held the guitar out. Carter peeled himself away from Ethan’s side. The fire and Ethan’s attention had made him pleasantly warm, sleepy, but he still hesitated. Frankie had shaved his head except for his bangs, which flopped into his face. Horatio had a pink ribbon braided into his goatee, and Rolla wore what appeared to be a brown grocery bag as a dress. Somehow, it looked fantastic on her. She had bedecked her light brown arms in thin gold chains that crisscrossed from her wrist up to her shoulders and across her collarbone.

“I don’t like to play in front of people,” Carter said. “Except for Ethan.”

“You play in front of Elliot now,” Ethan said.

“That’s different. He’s not paying attention.”

“Please?” Vera asked. “Ethan’s told me so much about your music. I’d love to hear it.” Vera had arrived an hour ago after ending her shift. Alice had come with her. She sat on the log next to Jules, looking happy as a clam. The beer probably helped. With the show she had Carter working on now, her stress level was as high as Carter had seen it. The composer was alive for this one and called every thirty seconds to check on everything from staging to costumes, down to the buttons.

“No need to have stage fright with us,” Horatio said.

“It’s not stage fright. I don’t like it when people look at me. I don’t know why I’d do something that encouraged people to do that.” Admitting it made him want to hide, even though this group would never judge him. No one paid any attention when he twitched. He’d given himself over to them after failing to stop the first few jerks and seeing that no one cared or commented.

“I like to look at you,” Ethan said quietly. “Please play something, Carter.” Keeping his gaze on Ethan’s warm expression and drawing courage from it, Carter reached for the guitar. He brought it to his lap. He cleared his throat and forced himself to glance around the fire. “Any requests?”

“Something you wrote,” Vera said.

“Play the one you wrote before you moved here,” Alice said.

“Have I heard that?” Ethan sounded eager.

“No,” Carter said. “It’s not very good. I’m not as good as you,” he said to Horatio.

Horatio waved his protest off. “Few people are. Play.”

Carter played. It was a slow song, perfect for sitting by the fire under the stars with the distant sound of water lapping the shore. He didn’t have all the lyrics yet, but he hummed and sang the verse. The second time around, Ethan hummed with him. Horatio picked up another guitar and played along as Frankie tapped out a rhythm with a stick against the log.

“You should perform at Pepper’s,” Vera said when he finished. “We do open mic on Wednesdays.”

“I know,” Carter said. “That’s why I never go there on Wednesdays.”

“You would do a really good job, Carter. I know it,” Ethan said. He gave Carter a one-armed hug.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Either be there or never have coffee again.” Vera gave the ultimatum.

“Well, when you put it that way….” He didn’t get to finish because Ethan tackle-hugged him and knocked them both off the back of the log.

“My guitar!” Horatio yelled.

“It’s fine!” Carter held it up with one hand as he caressed Ethan’s face with the other. Ethan shoved the guitar into Frankie’s outstretched hand and rolled on top of Carter.

“Somebody get a hose,” Rolla said. “But aim it away from my dress.”

Carter laughed and hooked his arms and legs around Ethan. When they got up, Ethan turned him around and dusted him off. Apparently most of the sand had stuck to Carter’s ass. At least, that was where Ethan concentrated his attention. “Okay, I think you got it.” Carter fidgeted away as Ethan, grinning, slapped him one last time.

Horatio started to play again. He was a professional guitarist, and his skills showed it. He could do anything, rock, classical, metal. Anything. If Carter could sit at his feet and soak in his knowledge and talent, he’d do it in a heartbeat. There was no need for him to do that though, because talent like that needed to be shared, and that was something Carter could never do. Never mind that he’d just been good-naturedly bullied into an open mic night. Horatio played on stages. Big ones. He led a crazy life, one that involved hotels and stadiums and then coming back to a caravan by the ocean. Carter had watched videos of him online after Ethan told him where to find them. Horatio was as comfortable onstage as he was sitting on a log. Carter would never be like that.

Although, the fact he was thinking about it might say something. He wasn’t sure what. But he hadn’t given a thought to himself onstage for years. Those thoughts had stopped at age sixteen when he’d treated his entire high school to an unadulterated chorus of nerve-amplified tics instead of the rendition of “Blackbird” that he’d intended.

“I saw Douglas today.” Ethan interrupted Carter’s thoughts.

“What?” The question, from Rolla, came out sharp. Carter touched Ethan’s leg, trying to soothe him if her tone had alarmed Ethan. Everyone grew quiet.

“And?” Frankie asked. “What did he say? What did you do?”

“Did he touch you?” Jules asked.

“He told me what happened. No one else told me that.” Ethan sounded dull. Worried looks passed between the others. Carter understood. Ethan drained was a different person.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alice asked.

“You already knew what happened to me? All of you? Not Carter and Alice, but all of you?” Ethan looked around.

“We didn’t know, Ethan,” Horatio said. “We met you after, remember?”

“I knew,” Vera said. “But I didn’t think it was my business to tell you. I mean, why would I tell you something like that?”

Ethan kicked the sand at his feet. A bit hit the fire. It flickered and went out in that section. “I don’t know who knows anything. My parents lied to me.”

“We’ve never lied to you,” Frankie said.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but we’re all here for you.”

“Thanks.” Ethan gave him a watery smile.

“So, did Douglas stop by only to tell you what happened?” Alice asked. Alice was good at getting to the heart of things.

“He wanted to talk about Mike.”

“About anything in particular?”

Ethan kicked the sand again. “No.”

“Ethan.” Carter turned to him and took his hand. “Do you want to talk about it later?”