Chapter 11 Carter
CARTER
“And how did you feel when she mentioned him, her violent ex-husband?” Dr. Parks asks, his notebook resting on his knees as we sit across from each other on the sofas in his office.
He used to come to the club’s basement before, but now I prefer coming here; it’s less distracting.
I used to spot the dry patches of blood on the concrete floor, and it would make it hard to focus on our conversation.
Here it’s neutral. A large office looking like what I imagine the inside of an English cottage looks like.
Heavy floral drapes, wood furniture, dim lights, checkered plaid, and even a fireplace.
Dr. Parks fits well here with his white bear and brown wool sweater.
The contrast between us couldn’t be wider.
“How did I feel?” I reply, arching a brow. Feeling isn’t my strong suit, and even with years of therapy, I struggle to recognize them, supposing I’m capable of having any.
“You can feel Carter. It’s more a matter of accepting it than recognising it.”
“I felt…” I swallow, furrowing my brows and trying Goddamn hard to recognize the symptoms of my body when she talked about her ex. My hands clenched and my jaw tightened. “I was angry.”
“It’s understandable.”
I run a hand through my blond hair. “Maybe I was more than angry.”
“How so?”
“When she mentioned him, I immediately pictured him hanging from the basement ceiling, his tongue and hands on the floor. His eyeballs were removed and laying on the concrete too. That’s the first thing that came to my mind.
Figured why would a coward like him be allowed to still touch her when he had hurt her with his hands, still talk when he had threatened her with his words.
And the eyes… Why would I let him see her beauty and strength ever again after all the damage he had done?
He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve her,” I explain, crossing my arms and laying back in the plush brown armchair.
“I see,” Dr. Parks rubs his chin, “and now that you’ve said all those things out loud, Carter, what do you think about those words?”
“About torturing him?” He nods, unflinching after years of listening to my twisted and sick mind.
“I knew from the moment I pictured it that it wasn’t right.
” Resting my elbows on my thighs and watching between my leather boots.
I sigh. “He’s a father. And I have no right to do this.
He isn’t from our world, nor an enemy of the club.
If he was, then he’d be taken care of already, but…
I guess it’s up to Lana, if she’s ready one day, to file a complaint against him and let justice handle him.
” I nod to myself even if every fiber of my being tells me to end him myself.
This isn’t my fight. And there’s nothing worse than stealing somebody else’s healing journey just ‘cause I have no restraints.
Dr. Parks tilts his head, unfazed, his pen poised over the paper. “So…you’re protective of her?”
Doesn’t seem like a strong enough word, but I nod.
“Why? There’s many women out there, hurt in various ways. Why do you feel this way about this woman in particular?” he asks calmly, studying me. I take a long, deep breath, trying to sort through the tangled mess in my broken mind.
“Don’t know why. I could tell you that I find her to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but it wouldn’t be the reason why I’m so protective of her.
I could tell you about the way she moves, smiles, or looks at me with warmth, even when I have less emotion than a block of ice.
Can’t find why exactly. She’s just, just…
” I stop, stuck in my head, not knowing how to explain why my chest tightens every time I think about her and why the idea of someone hurting her makes me see red.
Dr. Parks doesn’t react; he waits, like he knows there’s more if I let it breathe.
“She’s survived things I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
She doesn’t see the world like most people.
She doesn’t play victim. I think…that’s my favorite thing about her.
She’s strong, but there’s this quiet part of her that needs protection, even if she doesn’t admit it.
Not necessarily in a physical sense, more like, protection as in being present, listening, holding space for her to just…
be, I guess. ” I run a hand through my hair, relaxing the tension in my shoulders.
“And…she sees me, past my lack of emotion and what I used to do. And somehow she accepts it, without trying to change me to fit in her life. When I’m with her…
I just feel calm, Doc. Like I’m right where I should be. ”
Dr. Parks finally speaks, his voice even. “You’ve made yourself vulnerable with her, and she did the same. Maybe that’s why you feel so connected to her now. Maybe that’s why you’re falling for her.”
Vulnerable. The word my father used to beat out of me with a belt when he thought I had become too soft after playing with my sisters. I swallow then nod, glancing back down at my boots. “I guess… Yeah.”
LANA
“I can’t see Noah. Has anyone seen him?” I put my hand exaggeratedly on my hips while I try to ignore my four-year-old, hidden behind the curtains of his bed.
Hide and seek is his favorite game, but he often laughs so loud when I search for him that it betrays his location in less than a few seconds.
“Well, I guess he’s not here.” I chuckle.
“That’s too bad, I had special candies for him. ”
I shake the Skittles bag in the air before turning back to the stairs.
Little footsteps follow me, and I turn fast, my son putting his palms on his eyes as if he could still be hidden.
“Gotcha!” I smile, lifting him up in the air and hugging him tight.
“You did great, but I could see your socks under the curtains,” I giggle while tickling him.
“Oh no, next time I’ll hide under my bed and you won’t find me, Mommy.”
“Okay, we’ll do that.”
“Can I have candies now, please?”
“Sure, but only a handful.”
Sugar and kids are kind of an explosive mix, especially with Noah.
He gets those sugar rushes and then sleeps for hours, like he can’t handle anything anymore.
So we decided on less sweets this year to avoid him being overwhelmed.
I mean, I decided, because Noah was way more into the whole “let’s only eat candies for dinner” kind of idea.
“You never buy those usually,” he gasps as he eats his little Skittles while sitting on the sofa with a large dinosaur book on his lap. I fold some laundry on the dining table, enjoying our small home and how close we can always be, even if I’m doing something else next to him.
“A friend gave them to me,” I try, my voice flinching a bit.
I have no intention of introducing him to anyone if I’m not one hundred percent sure that the person will stick around, but I feel like letting a few crumbs of ideas won’t hurt, that maybe it will help prepare him if one day he gets to meet Carter.
“Auntie Nancy?”
“No, another friend, a…new friend.”
“What’s your friend's name?”
I swallow. Should I share his name? As far as I can tell, my four-year-old is completely unbothered right now.
“His name is Carter. He’s a really nice friend.”
“Okay, Mommy.” He shrugs it off.
Phew.
“When you see your friend, you can tell him it’s okay to play with my figurines to thank him for the Skittles.
” He nods as I stare at him speechless. My little boy understood that I had a “male” friend, and not only did it not affect him, but he also wants to say thank you back. I couldn’t be prouder.
“That’s really nice of you, honey. I will tell him.” I clear my throat, biting back a smile.
Maybe everything will work out.
Maybe I can be happy again.
“So, how’s your mystery man doing?” whispers Mrs. Hissburg to me while Lydia, a colleague, closes the door after checking on her. I blush, wondering if Lydia heard her. Gossips go fast at the hospital and I wouldn’t want to become the number one topic at coffee break.
“I… Um, good, good,” I stutter.
“Oh, something happened.” Miss Hissburg rubs her palms with a devious smile.
“I really can’t keep anything from you, can I?” I smile and shake my head. “We kissed,” I admit while she claps her hands several times. “Come on, Mrs. Hissburg, someone could hear you.”
“I don’t care, I’m too old to care about what people think. That’s good, Lana, I couldn’t be happier for you,” she tells me, her palm resting tenderly on my elbow.
“I came to ask you if you needed anything else today, I have to welcome a few more patients and I won’t have time to check on you later.” She’s one of my favorite patients and I always try to find time to come and say hi to her whenever I can.
“Oh, that’s lovely of you, Lana. You’re my favorite nurse, you know?” she whispers behind the back of her hand as if someone could hear her. “If you could just give me one more blanket, that’d be perfect,” she asks.
“Of course.” I take one from the dresser and lay it on her. The weather is turning cold and gloomy today, I even had to put one more sweater on Noah this morning.
“It’s good to see you like that,” she says as she pulls the cover over her elegant silk blouse.
What does she mean?
“Never mind, dear.” She smiles before winking at me.