Three
I waited only minutes at the creek, sitting on the moss covered fallen tree facing the running water. Carter showed up with his acoustic guitar and took a seat next to me. I felt like I was soaring through the skies with happiness being so near to him.
This was really happening, and I felt like I was dreaming.
As I watched him tune his guitar, I asked, “How long have you known?”
His eyebrows were furrowed when he answered distractedly, “I always knew you were stalking me.”
My mouth parted in surprise. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
With a nonchalant shrug, he replied with a smirk, “There was nothing to say. You’re harmless as a fly, so I can’t say I ever felt threatened.”
“I can be threatening,” I lamely replied, affronted by how uncaring he’d been that I had been following him around for so long. I’d have liked some kind reaction out of him.
I mean, did he have other stalkers?
I glanced around quickly. He better not. I’d skin them alive. I was his stalker, goddammit. I earned those stripes fair and square!
“Maybe you’re threatening to someone like Graeme now,” he said with a chuckle, winking at me just then.
I went crimson, unable to hold back my grin. This guy totally had me wrapped around his finger, and I know he knew it too.
“I’m not too sure about that,” I said. “He seemed to be doing a good job hitting me. I think he might have won.”
“Yeah, he won the award for being the biggest coward and dick in the trailer park. I might just call him Cowardick from now on.”
“I think that name is perfect.”
He smiled. “You know, I really can’t believe you mauled him over like that. You can’t be stupid enough to think he was winning. You’ve got some viper blood in you, Angel.”
Angel .
It was the first time he called me that, and it wasn’t going to be the last.
“Maybe I was wrong about you being a harmless stalker after all,” he added.
I laughed and shook my head. “Impossible. I like your singing too much to want to hurt you.”
That seemed to brighten his mood straightaway. He perked up but turned his face away from me, like maybe he didn’t want me to see just how good that made him feel. I’d grow to learn how bottled-up Carter was a lot of the time. If it was mushy stuff, he checked out.
It was a little contradictory to the guy that was living it up on the edge, fighting boys left and right, and flirting with the girls like the Casanova he knew he was.
Our conversation stopped there. He stroked the strings of his guitar with his pick like it was second nature to him and began to sing. My body immediately relaxed at the sound of his voice. It was so strange hearing him from this close and not having to hide behind a bush while being mauled by insects. I couldn’t stop my lips from forming a smile. It stayed on my face for a long while as I swayed from side to side. He sang “Thank You” again and I shut my eyes, savouring every lyric that fell from his lips.
“Wow,” I whispered when he finished.
Opening my eyes, I saw him staring out into the creek with a faraway look in his eye. I wondered what he was thinking about. What did that expression on his face mean?
“You’re an amazing singer, Carter,” I eventually told him. Maybe cheering him up would break through whatever he was feeling.
But he shrugged like it didn’t matter.
“Did your dad teach you to play?”
His shoulders tensed, but that faraway look on his face remained. “No,” he muttered. “The only thing that asshole is good at is getting drunk and passing out. It was my mom.”
His mom? I hadn’t seen a woman around his place. I’d never given it any thought either. But even though he wasn’t letting on with his emotions regarding her, I had a sad feeling in my heart. I could feel the melancholy coming off him. It was so different from how upbeat he was just moments ago.
“Did she teach you these songs?” I gently asked, treading softly.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. ‘Thank You’ was the last one she ever sang to me. Then she died.”
“How’d she die?”
He paused a beat. “She was sick,” he said in a strained voice, and I thought at the time it was because it was difficult to talk about.
“Did she sing as nice as you?”
His brows came together in thought, and then he swallowed a lump in his throat. “She sang like an angel.”
“I wish I’d heard her.”
When he didn’t respond, I told him quietly, “My mother died too. I was five.”
He was surprised by this. He looked at me with wide curious eyes. “How did she die?”
“Car crash minutes after she dropped me off at school. It was a rainy day, and her windshield wipers weren’t working. She ran a red light and got hit by a truck.”
I had rehearsed all that after years of being told what had happened, but I don’t even remember all that much about it. It’s a blur in my memories, vague little scenes in my head, voices telling me delicately of what had become of her. I remember what I felt more than anything. I know I was sad. I cried a lot when I asked for her and people kept telling me she was gone. Gone where, though? I couldn’t understand. But my life was such a whirlwind after her death, I don’t think I ever stopped to grasp what had truly happened. I was swiftly placed into Uncle Russell’s care and that was the end of that.
“Sorry to hear that,” Carter said gently.
Without thinking, I rested a hand on his warm arm, consoling him through a soft gesture. It happened on its own. I’d never touched another kid before, but this felt right.
“Sorry about your mother, too,” I replied.
He looked down at my hand, his lips parting just slightly.
For a while, there was only silence, and it wasn’t at all awkward. I was surprised by my ease. I thought my nerves would have suffocated me by now, but I was too lost in Carter to think about that right now. Something told me he wanted me here. He wanted me to listen from up close because he was ready to bring somebody into that side of him.
“Sing another song,” I whispered to him, motioning to his guitar. “I want to hear you sing again.”
“For how long?” he asked, focusing back on his instrument.
“For however long you want.”
If it were really up to me, I’d have said forever.