Pulling some tissue off the roll, he wipes his mouth, still kneeling by the toilet. We're quiet for a couple minutes. Kira should be back any second. I am about to go check when Travis speaks.
"Dude. I am so fucked up," he says. It's then I notice the flask on the floor.
Hold it together, Shaw. "Are you done? Kira's getting you clothes. You can change and we'll sneak you out." There's no emotion in my voice even though I feel like it's spilling out of me from everywhere.
He nods his head. At the same time, the bathroom door creaks and I freeze.
"Carter? It's me." I relax at the sound of Kira's voice. Man, she was fast. I run back over to her and grab the bag, my eyes catching hers, trying to tell her thank you. I'm pretty sure the small smile she gives me is telling me it's okay.
Back in the bathroom, I'm stuffing Travis's disgusting clothes into my bag as he's putting on my basketball shorts and a t-shirt. It takes him a couple minutes, stumbling around before he gets them on. The whole time I'm seeing Mom. Remembering my feet getting tangled in hers as I carried her up the stairs.
"Come on." My voice is tight, as tight as my body as I help him to the door.
"Carter, let me help him." Kira reaches for him when we get out the door. "It will look weird if someone sees the two of you together."
My stomach drops to my feet, but I know she's right. My teeth grind together as she puts her arm around Travis's waist, holding him close. His arm goes around her neck, the way mine would, the only difference is I'd let her lean on me instead of the other way around.
Patrice is looking around, nervous. Her eyes scanning the halls. They're as red as his are. I have to bite my tongue not to yell at her. How could she let him get this fucking drunk? But is it really her fault? I should have seen it. Talked to him. I know the signs. What to look for. Besides, she's been drinking, too.
My whole body is stiff as we walk down the hall, away from the dance. Kira is holding Travis. Travis is holding Kira. She shouldn't have to do this. Shouldn't have to carry my drunk friend into the parking lot.
It's as though there's no music. All I hear is my heart and our footsteps. We have to make it out of here. Have to.
A group of girls walk out of the bathroom. Their laughter stops when they see us. Their eyes are on Kira and Travis then me. They know we're together, everyone does, so they have to be wondering why my girl is walking with her arms around my best friend.
Please, don't say anything. Please don't say anything. They keep watching us, my heart hammering like crazy. When we pass them I keep going, just needing to get him outside and out of here.
As soon as we step outside, the burning in my lungs stops. My breath runs free for the first time in who knows how long.
"What are we going to do?" Kira asks. I take Travis from her, and put him in my truck. He passes out the second he hits the seat.
"I can't bring him home. His mom will freak."
"What about me? Can someone bring me home?" Patrice asks.
"Shit." I lean against my truck. One night. We'd wanted one night with nothing bad and this is what we get. "I don't know if I can sneak him in my house, either." And I'm scared. What if Mom catches us? Smells the alcohol. She's been so good. What if it lures her? Makes her want it again?
"Lana's at work tonight. She went in after the dance. We can bring him to my house."
My eyes catch hers. "No. No way. You shouldn't have to deal with him."
"I really need to get home," Patrice breaks in again.
"Then you should have thought of that before you guys got trashed,” Kira says. Then to me, “Carter, it's okay. We don't really have much of a choice."
She's right. I know it, but I hate it, too. "Here." I reach into the bag, pulling Travis's keys out of his suit. "Can you take Patrice home? Then meet me at your house? We can talk there."
Kira nods her head and turns to walk away, but I pull her to me instead. My hand cups her cheek. My forehead touching hers. "Thanks."
"It'll be fine. Everything will be fine," she tells me, and then she and Patrice are gone.
Chapter Sixteen
Travis is passed out in Kira's bed. In her bed. I've never even been in it and though I know this is a screwed up situation, that I would never want to be in her bed like drunk off my ass, I'm jealous. So angry that I want to wake up my best friend just to kick his ass. To knock some sense into him.
"I don't want to leave him with you. It doesn't feel right. It's not your responsibility, but I'm pretty sure I can't stay out all night. Mom will never believe me if I tell her I'm going to Travis's tonight." Not after our conversation this afternoon.
"It's not your responsibility, either." Her hair is down now. She's wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats, home early from our dance. Nice. "Nothing's going to happen. He's asleep. He'll stay asleep. I'll watch him. Hide him when Lana gets home, and kick his hung-over ass out when she takes her nap. It'll be fine," she says again.
I turn away from her, leaning my hands on her desk. I see Travis's reflection in the mirror in front of me. I'm pissed at myself. Pissed at Travis. Mom, Grandpa. Dad for dying. I'm pissed at everyone right now. Kira steps up behind me, her darker arms wrapping around me from behind. Now it's only our reflection I see. Her eyes. Her smooth, brown skin, blending and mixing with mine as she twines herself around me. "Oh! I have an idea."
I can't help it. I chuckle. How is it she always has an idea. That she can always sound so excited about whatever it is. "What's that?"
"I used to have this best friend in LA. Her name was Misty. Whenever we wanted to hang out, but couldn't, we'd have phone slumber parties."
"Huh?" Texting I'm good with. I used to hate it when Mel would keep me on the phone for hours and a phone slumber party sounds awful girly.
"Don't look at me like that!" She swats me. "It's fun. Call me when you get home and we can talk all night. Talk till one of us falls asleep and it'll be just like we're together."
"Okay," I hear myself say, and amazingly, I don't hate the idea of talking to her on the phone all night. I look around her room again. There's neon green, round chair under the window. Flowers painted on the walls. Flowers I'm pretty sure she drew and painted herself. It's so her.
"Thank you. You're..."
"Awesome," she answers for me. "I know."
I make my way home as fast as I can. The lights are off, which doesn't surprise me. I keep them off as I make my way up the stairs, Sara's hall nightlight makes it so I can see. Her door is cracked open so I peek in. Mom is in bed with her. Sara must have had one of her nightmares. It's the only time Mom sleeps with her.
"Hey," she whispers, looking at me from Sara's bed. Both eyes take me in. Not one, trying to even her vision. Her voice sounds normal and some of the nausea leaves me. I didn't realize I was freaked she'd be drinking again until I see that she isn't.
"Hey."
"Did you have fun?" Mom asks.
No. "Yeah."
"Good. I'm glad. You deserve it. I want to hear all about it in the morning, okay?"
I nod, even though the words, 'not likely' are swimming in my head. "Night, Ma. I love you."
"I love you too, Carter."
I pull the door closed and then head for my room, before stopping. I don't know what makes me do it. Why I can't just leave stuff alone, but after one quick glance to make sure Sara's door is closed, I slip into Mom's room. My feet carry me straight to the closet. To the box, where I lift my baby blankets. A bottle sits inside. It's closed. Never been open and full, but it's still here. My hands itch to pick it up. To slam it against the wall and break it. Instead, I slip it back, close the door and go back to my room. I should take it. I don't know why I don't. It's like I can't make myself go there. I can't grow the hell up and do what needs to be done.
It's full though. That means she's not drinking. It could have b
een there for weeks. Since before. Maybe she even forgot it was there.
The suit hits the floor as I drop in bed in my boxers. I didn't get my night tonight and so I'm going to try and salvage some of it now. I'm tired of worrying about everyone else. I'm not going to think about that unopened bottle. I have a date with my girl, and I want to enjoy it. Picking up the phone, I dial.
Kira picks up on the first ring. "So what are you wearing?" I tease. She laughs.
Finally, it's just us.
***
It's hard to look at Travis the same way when we see each other at school. The guy inside me without an alcoholic for a Mom knows it shouldn't be this weird. I mean, I hate what happened, but it's not like half the people in my school haven't been drunk before. A lot of them have probably puked before, too. It doesn't make them alcoholics. Travis is just trying to deal, just like Mom.
Still, things are different, even though it makes me a jerk for feeling that way. I need to talk to him about his parents. Help him get his head on straight and see what we saw that night, but right now, I can't. I'm tired. So tired of dealing with people who can't hold their shit together. If I can't lose it, why does everyone else get to?
Especially right now.
"Mom?" It's been a week since the dance. I sneak in her room every day and the bottle it still there. I know it's stupid, but I even made a little mark in the label so I'd know if it was a different one. It's still untouched. I don't know if I should be happy or upset about that. I hate that it's there, but glad that it's still there at the same time.
She looks over at me from her position of scrubbing the kitchen counter, pushing a strand of brown hair out of her face. "Hey, you." She looks down at the counter again, scrubbing.
"How...how are you?" I lean against the counter beside her.
She blows out a deep breath, the hair swaying with the force of air. "I'm okay. I'm sad, but I'm okay. I promise." Mom stops scrubbing before standing beside me. Her head drops to my shoulder. "I miss him so much, kiddo. He..." she hiccups and I know she's crying. My eyes burn, too. "He changed my life. He made me happy. He loved me, so much." She squeezes my arm. "He gave me you. Your dad loved you so much, Carter. I never saw his eyes light up the way I did when he would look at you."
A couple tears leak out of my eyes. "Really?"
"Oh yes." Mom grabs my hand and pulls me to the table. "We were young when we had you, but he was so happy. He wanted you so much,. God, he was so full of love. He worked so hard to give us everything he could." She laughs. "He tried to make up for my dad, you know. He used to tell me he would make sure he'd tell me he loved me at least once every day of our lives, to make sure I knew how special I was. You get that from him. How you love? It's just like your dad."
Pride swells inside me. I've always wanted to be like him.
"You, me, and basketball. We were your dad's life. He used to tell me you'd be better than him one day. You are. I'm sure he gets a kick out of that."
It feels like my skin cracks open and light spills out. "You think? Really think I'm better than he was?"
Half of Mom's mouth rises. "Oh come on, Carter. You know you're the man."
Hearing Mom say 'the man' makes me laugh.
"It's hard to believe it's been so long. It feels like yesterday." Softly, she starts to cry again and I abandon my original idea.
"What do you want to do tonight? Movie and Chinese?"
Mom shakes her head. "No. I know you want to go out with Kira tonight. You deserve to spend the night with your girlfriend and not babysit me. Sara's with Bill and I bought a half gallon of ice cream, stuff to give myself a pedicure. I'm going to spend the night spoiling myself the way he would have." She pats my hand and stands up. Her words sound right, but it feels wrong. I can't leave her. Not on the anniversary of my dad's death.
"Mom..."
"It's not up for debate. I'm okay to be alone. I promise."
There's a war being fought inside me. A one on one game. I know I shouldn't leave her, but I want to. I want to go out with Kira and have the night we should have had last week. I don't want to be the guy who has to worry about his mom if he goes out with his girlfriend. "You're sure?"
"I have the only son in the world that would make me kick him out. Go. Have fun with your girlfriend. Not too much fun, though."
"Lalalala. Don't make me hear that again." I back away laughing. "I'm going. I'm going."
Mom's voice stops me as I start to walk away. "I love you, Carter."
Looking at her, I say, "I love you too, Ma."
The whole time I'm getting ready, I think about what I want to do. I'm going to do it. I'm taking the bottle. If she looks for it, she'll be upset, but I don't care. It's better than the alternative.
When I push open her bedroom door, she's in her room, folding clothes. "Hey. Need something?" she asks. It's not like I can tell her, 'hey, mind leaving for a minute so I can steal your vodka?'.
"No, no. Just wanted to say bye." She'll be okay, I tell myself as I walk away. She'll be okay.
***
I pick Kira up at about five. She climbs into my truck, putting a picnic basket on her lap. She tosses a big duffle bag on the floorboard.
"What's that?" I point to the basket.
"Dinner, of course."
"I figured I'd take you out for dinner." My truck is idling in her driveway.
"And I figured I'd make you dinner. I think we should stay as far away from other people as we can tonight. Like that night in the Jacuzzi? That was perfect. We need to find a place where no one can bother us. Your choice because you know the area better than me."
For the second time, I realize I love this girl. Like, actually love her. "I know a place, but are you sure? It's cold."
"Afraid of a little cold weather?" she mocks, making me laugh.
"Nope. Gives me the opportunity to keep you warm."
It takes us thirty minutes to get there. The road is just as dark as I remember. I almost miss the driveway, but catch it at the last minute. Leaving the truck going, I jump out and unlock the old gate so we can drive in.
"Breaking and entering again?"
Shaking my head, I say, "Nope. I wouldn't have the key if that was the case. This is my grandpa's house. He doesn't live here, but he won't sell it or give it to Mom either. It's just his way of giving her something else to take care of. We're not going inside though." My truck bounces around in potholes as we go down the driveway. It continues past the house, getting bumpier and more off-road than when we first started.
When we get there, I turn around and back up until we're almost to the lake. "Come on." I tell her, getting out of the truck. I walk around, grabbing the bag while she takes the basket. It's November so it's already dark even though it's early evening. The trees make shadows, bouncing off the lake. Above the water is a perfect clearing, showing the stars in a different way than we see them in town.
"Carter, it's beautiful." Kira's standing next to me.
"Mom told me she used to sneak out of the house and meet my dad down here. Are there blankets in the bag?" The night doesn't need to start out on a sad note.
"A girl always comes prepared." Laughing I lower the door on my truck bed, climb up and lay out the three blankets. "Will you do me a favor and grab the flashlights out of my glove box?" I ask her. The moon is really bright tonight, giving us light, but I want to see her as best I can.
The basket clunks into the truck bed, followed by the flashlights and then Kira is climbing up too. We sit in the middle of the blankets as she pulls out some sandwiches, fruit, and sodas.
"Hey, I thought you said you were cooking me dinner!"
"I did. This is my way of cooking."
"You're crazy."
She winks. "I know."
We eat dinner and then I pull out my phone and we challenge each other to a coup
le games of Angry Birds. The time flies, a few hours passing too quickly.
"It's getting cold." Kira scoots up and pulls one of the blankets over her, before leaning against the window.
"That's my cue." Suddenly, I'm kind of nervous, which might make me insane. I've never been nervous with a girl in my life. I definitely shouldn't be nervous with this girl.
Balling the backpack up, I lay it down, and put my head on it. "Come here. Let me keep you warm."
I hold my arm out and Kira cuddles inside, laying her head in the crook of my arm. I'm pretty sure she belongs there. We're lying under the blanket, her heat against my side. It's perfect.
"Can we talk? I mean, I know we can talk, but I didn't know if you wanted to talk about—"
"You can ask me anything you want," I interrupt her.
"What you said about your grandpa earlier?"
I groan, not wanting to talk about him, but willing to tell her anything regardless. "He's a prick. He was an alcoholic the whole time Mom grew up. Verbally and emotionally abusive to her and my grandma. Mom was...well, I guess you can say she was probably a nerd in high school. She told me she didn't have many friends or anything. She was really shy and kept to herself, but then..."
"She met your dad," she finishes for me.
"I'm sure they always knew each other. They went to the same school, but he played ball. They hung out in different crowds and stuff." The urge to touch her more takes me over and I slide my other hand over her stomach, then hoping and praying it's okay, I let it slip under her shirt a little. Not too far, but enough so I can brush my thumb against her bare stomach.
"Is this okay?"
"You wouldn't have your hand if it wasn't."
Somehow, I believe her.
"Anyway." Brush, brush, brush. Her skin is so soft, so perfect, I can't stop feeling it. "Mom and her family went out to dinner one night and her dad started in on her. They left, but he blew up at her in the parking lot. Dad was there, saw them, yelled at grandpa and then started talking to her at school. They were friends at first, but she said after like six months, he kissed her. They had to sneak around because my grandpa obviously hated him. Graduation night, she didn't go home and never went back.