Friend Is a Four Letter Word (20 page)

He’s been in my life in some capacity for almost a year now—I’ve told him some of the most personal things under the security of night. Confessions and admissions that felt safe because they were cloaked in darkness. And now that we’re here—in the same place, it’s like the darkness was a blanket that’s been pulled off of us. We’re acutely aware of all of the flaws we hid for so long, trying to be the person that we thought the other needed, but all the while, hiding our true selves.

We can see everything clearly and it’s scary as hell for the both of us.

But maybe that’s okay.

Once I find my car, I sit for a moment, wondering what my Mom could have sent with Nolan, but also, a little apprehensive about finding out. What if it’s the world’s tiniest hate mail crammed inside of this delicate box? What do I do with it if it’s an impersonal gift, like a keychain—proving how far the distance really is between me and my parents now.

I open my glove box and shut it inside, deciding that I’ll open it tomorrow, or another day that I don’t feel so conflicted. As I’m slamming the glove compartment shut, I see a familiar face.

Carter.

Carter sitting on the curb… outside of a bar.

I feel like I’ve been awake for days. Maybe I have.

Everything since I left Tracey’s office has been a complete blur.

I’ve been sitting on this damn curb for thirty minutes trying to decide if I should go in and get a drink or not. God knows I want one. Or eight. And what the hell does it matter if I do? Clearly I did my job better. According to my boss, I had more to show for my work day when I came in buzzed or hung over. Dream big, right?

I close my eyes and try to remember the last time I slept. The memory hits me like a sucker punch to the gut—lying in bed with Shayna before everything went to hell. The warmth of her next to me. Feeling her legs wrapped around mine.

I was so close. So damn close to having it all.

If she just would have shown up on my doorstep a year from now when maybe I wouldn’t be right smack in the middle of figuring my own shit out. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so scared to screw things up with her and could have let her in from the beginning.

“Carter?” she says. “Carter what are you doing? Are you okay?”

I open my eyes and Shayna is standing next to me. Her face is pale and her lip trembles a little when she says, “Carter? Answer me!”

Her eyes are frantic and searching mine.

My throat feels thick. I try to swallow the guilt bubbling up.

“Carter, are you drunk?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Not yet. Thinking about it though.”

“What. The. Hell?” She clips each word in total disbelief. I can’t be sure but I swear she stomps her damn foot when she says it. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be hanging out outside of a bar, Carter. What the hell are you thinking?”

“Shayna, I obviously didn’t expect you to be out here. Just go home.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Carter, I’m not leaving you here,” she slumps down beside me on the curb. “What the hell are you doing?”

I work my jaw back and forth. “It’s been a pretty shit day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I think I heard you wrong,” she says, her tone biting with sarcasm. “You’re having a bad day so you’re going to go in and drink away your sadness? How has that worked out for you in the past?”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look it.”

“I didn’t go inside,” I say, feeling defensive.

“Good. And you’re not going to. Let’s go.” Shayna tugs at my arm, but I don’t budge. “Don’t be an asshole, Carter, I said lets go.”

“I said I haven’t had anything to drink. I can drive myself.”

Shayna shakes her head and laughs.

“Not a chance. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Get your ass up and let’s go.”

I finally look up at her. Her tiny frame shouldn’t be intimidating at all, but the way she is glaring at me, her hands planted firmly on her hips, I figure I should listen before she causes a scene. Plus that, I may be in a bad place right now, but the thought of making her worry makes me feel like a total dick.

“What about my Jeep?” I ask, following her to her car.

“We’ll grab it later.”

“Alright,” I say. I slide into the passenger seat of her tiny hybrid, remembering the first time I was inside her car. All I could think about back then was how badly I wanted to touch her, but legal or not, she was in high school—the timing wasn’t right. Guess that’s a reoccurring theme between her and I.

Shayna backs out of the parking place and heads toward the freeway.

“Where’re we going?” I ask.

“Meetings held at the same place tonight?” she asks.

“Meeting?” I repeat, like it wasn’t obvious.

“Yeah, I’m taking you to a meeting, Carter. What’d you think, we were going to go to Olive Garden and talk about your day over all you can eat salad and breadsticks?”

“That sounds delicious,” I mutter. The last time I ate was almost as long ago as the last time I got a decent night’s sleep.

“Don’t be an idiot. This isn’t a joke.”

It isn’t, and I know that because of the strong pull telling me there may still be a flask with booze in Shayna’s glove box. It’s an ache so strong I almost have to hold own arm down so that I don’t pop it open to find out.

“Sorry to put you out like this,” I say.

“You’re not putting me out,” she says. The panic in her voice that was there outside the bar has smoothed. “Besides, you helped me when I needed it. That’s what friends do, right?”

“Friends,” I repeat back.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

I run my hand through my hair and think about where to begin, but all I really want to do is focus on how I don’t want to fucking be friends with this girl.

“Shit went down at work. I may be let go.”

“Ouch,” Shayna says, pulling off the exit toward the school the meetings are held at. “Anything you can do to fix it?”

I shake my head. “Not sure. I don’t really know how to. I can put in more time, I guess. But really, I think I just sort of have to wait and see.”

“Does—did you—”

“Nah,” I say. “I wasn’t drinking at work or anything. Basically, I just should have kept better tabs on a flakey clients file than I did. It was my job to.”

“Maybe it’ll work out,” she says. She glances over at me and looks sympathetic.

“I hope so. This is the same firm I had my internship with. They really took a huge chance on me. If they let me go, I have nothing else to add to my resume. Plus, my dad is friends with the senior partner of the firm, so that gets messy.”

“Maybe your dad can put in a good word for you?”

“I don’t think so. I’d rather leave him out of all of this.”

“Gotcha. So, that’s it? Just the job stuff driving you to that shit hole of a bar?”

I purse my lips. “There’s—there are other things on my mind.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“Nope. Not right now.” I glance at the clock on her dash. “Besides, I’ve only got a few minutes before the meeting starts. Got to get inside if I want a good seat, you know.”

Shayna pops her door open.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

She rounds the car toward me. “You’re not going in alone, Carter. I’m in this with you.”

Inside the building looks exactly as I expected—and not at all.

That doesn’t make sense, but the interior is one-hundred percent what I thought it would look like in my mind—a rectangle made out of folding chairs, a small card table with coffee and what are probably stale pastries. But every time I thought about AA, I’d tell myself that that scene in my mind was way too depressing to be true and I’d try to come up with something better.

It isn’t—better, that is.

“Well, see, I told you we should have hustled to the door,” Carter jokes. He’s trying to play off how totally nervous he is with having me here. “Missed the right hand corner seat, that’s the prime spot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Easy access to the vending machine.” He points over his shoulder to a door with a pane of glass in the center, that leads to what looks like a teachers’ lounge. “Looks like they even restocked the peanut M&M’s.”

“I see how we’re clearly missing out,” I joke back. It feels a little inappropriate, but I want to do what I can to make Carter as comfortable as possible. I really do want to be there for him. As far as I know, he’s never really had anyone that has been. At least not in the way he truly needs. I’m not talking about a warm body in his bed, I’m sure he’s had more than a few of those. I swallow the prickle of jealousy that comes with the thought. I mean someone that he can let his guard down with—be the recovering alcoholic that he is and not be judged for it. Screw up at work and have someone to vent to when he gets home instead of running to a bar.

“Coffee?” he asks, pointing to the small set up in the corner.

“Nah, I’m okay.”

“Good. Don’t let their fancy creamers fool you. That shit tastes like tar.”

“Should we sit here?” I ask, stopping at the next available seat.

“Yeah, this is good.”

Carter leans in toward me, his voice tickles my ear when he says, “You know you don’t have to do this. I’m okay on my own.”

“That’s the thing, Carter—you’re not on your own.”

The woman from the parking lot, Carter’s sponsor comes in next.

“Hey, handsome!” she says, walking over to greet him.

Carter straightens up a little when he sees her, and I can’t help but smile at that.

“Good to see you, Jane,” he says.

“And you brought a visitor?” Jane asks. She has kind eyes and smiles at me sincerely. I extend my hand to shake hers, but she grabs it and pulls me in for a hug instead. I blink hard from surprise. I’m not used to this kind of affection.

“This is Shayna,” Carter says. “She’s—”

“His friend,” I say. I don’t know why. I guess I’m trying to make it easier for him in this already stressful place.

Carter looks at me out of the corner of his eye and says, “Someone who means a lot to me.”

Jane clasps my hands in hers. “Well, it’s good to have you here, Shayna.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say. Her eyes wrinkle at the corners when she smiles, but they don’t make her look any older—only kinder.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” she says, pulling me in a little closer by my hands. “Carter has never brought anyone to a meeting.” I feel myself swell with a pride that I don’t fully understand. “Thank you for being a good friend to him.”

I take a seat in the maroon padded folding chair and try to relax. It isn’t easy when you’re sitting in a room full of strangers who may be about to confess their darkest secrets. I’m an outsider. There are about thirty other people here who have no idea why I’m here, what my story is, or that I’m just a tagalong that is encroaching on their privacy. And yet, somehow, I feel comfortable enough to reach across and hold Carter’s hand as he takes the seat next to me.

I do it wordlessly. Carter doesn’t look at me that I can tell. He only strokes the top of my hand with his thumb as the speaker begins.