If I were smarter...
I've never seen Asa study a day in his life. I study every day, regardless of how crazy things get around me. Like right now, having to leave the house and walk to the park just for peace and quiet.
How in the hell does he have a 3.5 average GPA? I wouldn't put it past him if he were paying off his professors.
"Hey."
I grip my keys, complete with pepper spray, and slowly turn around. Carter is walking up behind me with his hands tucked inside the pockets of his jeans. His dark hair is unkempt and hangs down his forehead, swooping into his eyes.
He pauses a few feet from me, waiting for me to give him permission to approach. He isn't smiling at me this time. At least he minds well.
"Hey," I say flatly. I drop my keys back on the table. "Did Asa send you to summon me?"
He walks to the picnic table and swings his leg over the bench and straddles it. He's facing me with his hands still in his pockets. I stare down at my textbooks and refuse to look at him. The mild crush I developed on him in class turned into what could have been a very serious shit storm after having lunch with him. I need to keep my distance, and looking at him makes me not want to keep my distance.
"I was just driving by. Saw you sitting here, thought I'd check on you."
"I'm fine," I say, returning my attention to the homework in front of me. I feel like maybe I should thank him for the heads up today. If he hadn't called, there's no telling how that situation would have turned out. But then again, he could have just been warning me to save his own ass.
But I know he wasn't. I could hear the concern in his voice before I hung up the phone. He was scared for me. He was scared for me, just like I was scared for him.
"Are you?" he asks skeptically. "Are you really fine?"
I glance up at him. He can't just leave things alone, can he?
I drop my pencil on the table and turn to face him. He's always pushing for more truth. Always wanting to know what the hell I'm thinking. If this is what he wants, we might as well get it over with. I take a deep breath and prepare to answer all the questions he's ever asked, and even ones he hasn't gotten around to asking yet.
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm not great. I'm not terrible. I'm just fine. I'm fine because I have a roof over my head and a boyfriend who loves me, despite the fact that he makes bad choices. Do I wish he were a better person? Yes. If I had the means, would I leave him? Yes. Absolutely. Do I wish there wasn't so much constantly going on at my house that I could actually find a quiet place to do homework, or heaven forbid, get some sleep? Hell yes. Do I wish I could graduate sooner and get out of this mess? Yes. Am I embarrassed by the way Asa treats me? Yes. Do I wish you weren't a part of this? Yes. Do I wish you could be the guy I thought you were the first time I met you in class? Yes. Do I wish you could save me?"
I let out a short, defeated sigh and look down at my hands. "So much, Carter," I whisper. "I wish you could save me from all this shit so, so much. But you can't. I'm not in this life for myself. If I were, I would have left a long time ago."
How could he save me from this life? He's a part of this life. If I ran from Asa and into Carter's arms, it would be the exact same lifestyle...just a different pair of arms. And Carter has no idea that the only reason I'm still in this situation isn't even about me or what I used to feel for Asa.
I shake my head at this entire unfortunate situation we're in and try to blink back tears. "I left him once," I say to Carter. "In the beginning, when I found out how he was making his money. I didn't have anywhere to go, but I left him because I knew I deserved better." I pause, searching for the right words. When I look up at Carter the first thing I notice is the genuine concern in his eyes. It's a strange feeling to trust someone you barely know more than the person you share your own bed with.
"I had two younger brothers growing up. They were born when I was only two. Twins. My mother was an addict, so they were both born with complications. Drew died when he was ten. The other--Stephen--needs a lot of care. Care I can't provide on my own if I want to build a good life for us. When he turned sixteen, he was finally approved for a group facility where he'd be able to live and have twenty-four-hour care. And I could go to college and make a better life for us. Things were great until a few weeks after I decided to break up with Asa. Stephen's funding was pulled by the state and I had no place for us to live--no place to care for him. My only other option was paying the fee out of pocket, which is thousands of dollars a month. I couldn't afford it, but the last thing I wanted was for him to be forced to move back in with my mother. It's not safe for him there. When I realized the situation I had put us both in, I didn't know where else to turn. And when Asa showed up, begging to take me back with promises of paying for Stephen's care, I couldn't say no. I moved back in with him. Now I'm forced to pretend that he's enough for me. I pretend to turn a blind eye to the awful things he does. And in turn, he sends a check every month to pay for Stephen's expenses. And that's why I'm still there, Carter. Because I have no other choice."
Carter stares at me, completely silent. For a moment I almost regret being so open with him. I've never told anyone that. As much as Asa doesn't deserve me, I'm still ashamed that I'm only with him because he helps me. It's embarrassing to admit the truth to someone.
Lunch with him today seems like it was a world away from right now. So much has happened between this morning and this moment. He looks different now. Not the playful Carter he was in class this morning. Not the apologetic Carter he was after our lunch today.
Right now he just looks...I don't know...like a different person altogether. Almost as if he's been pretending to be someone he's not and this is the first time he's looking at me with truth behind his eyes.
He glances away for a second and I see the slow roll of his throat as he swallows and then speaks. "I respect what you're doing for your brother, Sloan," he says. "But what good are you going to be to him if you end up dead? That house isn't safe for you. Asa isn't safe for you."
I sigh and wipe away a rogue tear. "I do what I'm able to do, Carter. I can't afford to worry about the what ifs."
His eyes follow the tear down my cheek and then he lifts a hand to my face and wipes it away.
Of all the tears I've cried to Asa, he's never once attempted to wipe them away.
"Come here," Carter says, taking hold of my hand. He pulls me toward him as he scoots closer to me. I look down at his hand, holding on to mine, and I attempt to pull it back. He squeezes it and grabs my elbow with his other hand. "Come here," he whispers soothingly, pulling me closer. He wraps his arms around me and guides my head to his shoulder. He squeezes me tightly, cradling my head with one of his hands. He presses his warm cheek against the top of my head and he holds me.
That's all he does.
He doesn't make excuses. He doesn't lie and tell me everything will be okay, because we both know it won't. He doesn't make promises he won't be able to keep like Asa does. He just holds me out of nothing more than a simple desire to bring me comfort--and it's the first time I've ever felt this.
I scoot closer and relax against him, listening to the sound of his heart beating rapidly inside his chest. I close my eyes and try to imagine a time in my crazy, fucked up life that I've ever felt cared about, but I come up empty. I've been living on this earth for twenty years, and this is the first time I feel like someone actually gives a shit.
I clench his shirt in my fists and try again to scoot even closer to him, wanting to curl up inside of him and relish in this feeling forever. He lifts his cheek and lightly presses his lips against the top of my head.
We remain clasped together, holding on to each other as if the fate of the world depends on this embrace.
The thin layer of his shirt is damp from the tears that are pouring down my cheeks. I don't even know why I'm crying. Maybe it's because, until this moment, I had no idea what it felt like to be valued. What it felt like to be respected. Until this moment, I had no idea what it felt
like to be cared for.
No one should have to experience a life never feeling truly cared for--not even by the parents who created them. Yet I've lived that for twenty years now.
Until this moment.
I close my eyes and continue to hold her while she quietly cries against my chest. I hold her until dusk turns into dark and what was left of the light is engulfed by a blanket of stars.
I hold her until I hear a car about to turn on the street. I glance up, but they turn and go in the opposite direction. She remains pressed against my shirt, but the thought of Asa or even Dalton seeing me with her right now is at the forefront of my mind.
I shouldn't be here comforting her. It can only cause more problems for her.
Because she's right. I can't save her. As much as I want to, we're both stuck. I can't risk ruining something that is so much bigger than just the two of us. I can't sacrifice what it is I'm here to do for the sake of helping her leave. That's something she'll have to do on her own and when she's financially able.
And every moment I hold her, every time I grab her hand, every time I sit next to her in class, every time I put her in more and more of these harmless situations--I'm pushing her closer and closer to the edge of a cliff. If I don't figure out how to back away from her...I'll end up watching her fall.
I release my hold from around her and pull back, but she remains clutched to my shirt. I grab her hands and pull them away from me. She lifts her head and looks up at me, her eyes as red and swollen as I suddenly wish her lips were.
Stop thinking like this, Luke.
I stand up and she grabs at my shirt to pull me back, confusion rampant in her eyes.
"Let go," I whisper.
Her hands fall to her lap and she breaks our stare. She pulls her feet up onto the bench and hugs her knees, crying into her arms. Walking away from her is about to take all the strength I have.
"You're right, Sloan," I say as I back away from her. "I can't save you."
I turn around and begin walking back to my car, each step harder than the last. I don't turn around when I open the door. I climb inside the car and drive to her house without once looking back.
When I walk through the front door, I can tell by the state of the living room and the noise from the backyard that this is going to be a long night.
I make my way through the house and to the backyard. There are several people scattered around. No one even looks up when I walk outside. There are four girls in the pool putting on a spectacle. Two of them have the other two perched up on their shoulders and they're trying to knock each other off into the water. Jon and Dalton are standing beside the pool, beers in hand, cheering for whomever they've bet on.
Asa is sitting at the side of the pool with his feet dangling in the water. He isn't staring at the girls. He's staring straight at me--eyes hard and suspicious. I nod in his direction, acting oblivious to the look in his eye.
Dalton sees me and says, "Carter!" He rushes around the pool, unsteady on his feet. He's laughing the whole time, spilling half his beer. When he reaches me, he wraps his arm around me and leans in.
"Don't worry, I'm not as fucked up as I look," he says. "Did you get anything out of Sloan?"
I pull back and eye him. "How did you know I was with Sloan?"
He chuckles. "I didn't. But good job," he says, squeezing my shoulder. "You work fast. I think she knows more than we think she does."
I shake my head. "I don't think she knows shit," I tell him. "Focusing on her will be a waste of our time."
I glance over Dalton's shoulder and see Asa staring at us. He pulls his feet out of the water and stands up.
"He's coming over here," I say.
Dalton raises an eyebrow and then backs away, raising his beer in the air. He grins and spins around. "A hundred bucks says I can stay under water longer than any of you fucks!"
Jon immediately takes him up on the bet. They throw their beers aside and dive into the pool.
Asa walks toward me and then straight past me as he makes his way into the house, never once making eye contact with me.
I don't know what unnerves me more. The fact that I'm suspicious of every move he makes or the fact that he seems suspicious of me.
It took me half an hour after Carter walked away to finally regain my composure enough to pack my things and walk back home. It's been ten minutes since I reached the edge of my dark driveway. I've been staring at the pavement, following the winding path with my eyes. It would be so easy to keep walking. There's nothing in that house I want. Nothing I even need. I could keep walking along the pavement until I'm too far to turn back.
I wish it were as easy as it sounds, but once again...it's not just about me. And no one but me is going to be able to change any of this.
Carter can't save me. Asa sure as hell isn't going to save me. I just need to continue saving my money until I have enough to make it on my own and bring my brother with me.
I take a step onto the grass, toward the house, but I hesitate. It's the last place I want to be right now. I want to be back at the park, back on the bench, back in Carter's arms. I want that feeling again, but I'm ashamed to admit I want more than that, too. I want to know what it feels like to be kissed by someone who respects me.
Just having that thought makes me feel incredibly guilty. To my knowledge, Asa is faithful to me. He provides for me. He takes care of my brother financially...a responsibility that isn't even his. He does this because he loves me and he knows I want to see my brother happy. I can't discredit that. It's more than anyone has ever done for me in my entire life.
I throw my backpack of completed homework in Asa's car and walk through the front door. I just keep walking until I get to the kitchen. I'll do like I do every night and take something to eat and drink up to my room. I'll stay there alone and try to sleep amidst the sound of music and laughter and sometimes the occasional muffled screams. I'll fall asleep and hope that Asa gives me at least four good hours before he wakes me up again.
I set the timer on the microwave and fill my cup with ice. I shut the freezer and go to open the refrigerator door when the familiar handwriting on the dry-erase board catches my eye. My breath hitches when I read it.
Worries flow from her lips like the random words that flow from her fingertips. I reach out and try to catch them, clenching them in my fists, wanting nothing more than to catch them all.
I look at his words, written clearly out in the open for anyone to see, but I know they're meant only for me. It's obvious he played the game wrong. He actually thought about what he was going to say before he wrote it this time. Cheater.
I erase the words, but not before imprinting them on my mind. I pick up the marker and press it to the dry-erase board.
My hands are wet from sweat. The air conditioner is broken again and it's too hot to go outside. I run my sweaty palm along the leather arm of the couch, leaving a streak of sweat behind the path of my hand.
I wonder where sweat comes from?
I wonder where leather comes from?
My mother told me it's made from cows, but I know she's a liar, so I don't believe her. How could leather be made out of cows? I've touched a cow before and they're sort of fuzzy. They don't look like leather to me. Leather looks more like it's made from dinosaurs than cows.
I bet leather really is made out of dinosaurs. I don't know why my mother always lies to me. She lies to Daddy, too. I know she lies to him, because she gets in trouble for it a lot.
Daddy always tells me not to trust whores. I don't know what a whore is, but I know it's something my Daddy hates.
Sometimes when he gets mad at my mom, he calls her a whore. Maybe a whore is another word for liar and that's why he hates them so much.
I wish my mother wasn't a whore. I wish she would stop lying, so she wouldn't get in trouble so much. I don't like watching her get in trouble.
Daddy says it's good for me, though. He says if I want to grow up and be a man, I need to see what a
woman looks like when she cries. Daddy says a woman's tears make men weak, and the more I see their tears when I'm younger, the less I'll believe their lies when I'm older. Sometimes when he punishes my mother for being a whore, he makes me watch her cry so that I'll grow up knowing that all the whores cry and it shouldn't bother me.
"Don't trust anyone, Asa," he always tells me. "Especially the whores."
I grasp the leather strap tethered around my arm and pull it tighter, then slap at my skin. I realize now that leather isn't made from dinosaurs.
My mother wasn't lying about that, at least.
I don't remember a lot about the fight in their bedroom that night. The yelling had become a daily occurrence, so it wasn't new to me. What was so different about that night was the silence. The house had never been so quiet. I remember lying in bed, listening to myself breathe because it was the only noise in the entire house. I hated the quiet. I hate the quiet.
No one found out what he did to her for a few days. They found her body wrapped in a bloody sheet, shoved under the house and half-covered in dirt. I know this, because I snuck outside and watched them pull her out from under the house.
After the cops arrested my father, I was shipped to my aunt's house where I lived until I ran away at fourteen.
I know he's in prison somewhere, but I've never looked for him. I haven't seen or heard from him since that night.
I guess you shouldn't trust the men who marry the whores, either.
I press the tip of the needle into my arm and apply a little pressure. Once it pierces my skin, I draw the process out as long as possible. The initial insertion and sting is the best part for me.
I push my thumb down, feeling the warm burn move from the point of insertion, down to my wrist and straight up through to my shoulder.
I slide the needle out and drop it to the floor, then untie the strap of leather, letting it fall as well. I curl my arm up to my chest and hold it with my other hand while I lean my head back against the wall. I close my eyes and smile to myself, relieved I didn't end up with a whore like my mother.
Thinking Sloan was with another guy today made it crystal clear why my father hated whores. I don't think I truly understood him until that moment--when I felt the hatred for Sloan that he felt for my mother.