Carter's #Undoing, page 5
“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, his hands gently rubbing my lower back. It had been hurting since I’d awakened from that tea, but I hadn’t remembered telling him that. It was almost like he’d been paying closer attention to me than I thought.
“No, I’m fine. I can’t find a comb, but was going to finger this moisturizer through my hair.”
He grabbed the bag from my hand and scooped up a handful, the sounds of him rubbing it in his hands making my ears perk up moments before I felt his fingers go into my hair.
I sighed, caught off guard by how wonderful it felt to have someone else working out the kinks in my hair instead of me. His fingers were like a sweet love poem, each stroke bringing me to a higher euphoria and calming my rattled nerves. I could listen to his poetic fingers all day.
“Thank you for doing this,” I muttered after a few glorious moments of the unexpected head massage. “Without makeup or my hair products, I’m sure I look a hot mess.” It wasn’t exactly what I was thinking, but I’d needed to break the silence. Honestly, for the first time in hours, my brain couldn’t overthink because I was relaxing a little.
“You could never look anything less than perfect,” he stated. “Those products may accentuate your beauty, but it can’t upgrade features that are already classically beautiful.”
My breath caught. “Um, thank you.”
He didn’t say anything after that, his hands working through my curls and doing all the talking for him. I wished I could see his face, but something told me he wouldn’t have been as honest if we were looking each other in the eyes.
It was strange because he’d helped me oil my hair in the past, but I’d never thought twice about it. Back then, it hadn’t felt as intimate as it did now. A piece of my heart broke at the thought of all the new memories we missed the chance to make and the old ones that deserved to be cherished.
I didn’t even notice I was drifting off to sleep until my eyes were closed and I felt my body being lifted off the floor. Had I not been so overwhelmed, I probably would have told him that even under the circumstances, there was at least one major thing that hadn’t changed about Carter. He still smelled like earthy sandalwood mixed with freshly washed sheets and a hint of lemongrass. I would never tell him that hint had almost made me cry when Bath & Body Works discontinued their Lemongrass Sage scent. Against my better judgement, I still brought everything in that scent any time I could find it. As if I needed any more reminders that I never really got over Carter Madden.
Six
Eighteen years ago …
CARTER
* * *
I knew something was wrong the minute I found Serenity hugging her knees and rocking back and forth in the grass. When she texted me to meet her at her favorite spot by the lake not far from town, I knew something was wrong. Usually, I drove her to this spot whenever she wanted to come, but she’d ridden her bike instead.
“What happened?” I asked, sitting beside her.
“My mom happened. I didn’t hear her come home because I was in the shower, but as soon as I opened the bathroom door, she was standing there, her eyes glazed over and filled with anger.”
“About what?”
Serenity sobbed. “I don’t know, but she doesn’t need a reason. She’s doing cocaine again. I went to ask her if everything was okay, and she slapped me so hard, I fell back into the bathroom door.”
Fuck. I clenched my fist, wanting to slap the dirt beneath my hands, but knowing that it wouldn’t help the situation. She once told me that her mom used to do the stuff back in the eighties when she was a little girl, but had gotten clean when they moved to Cranberry Heights. Unfortunately, it hadn’t lasted long.
Gently touching the bottom of Serenity’s chin, I turned her head toward me. The entire left side of her face was red and swollen.
“Let’s go to the police.”
She shook her head. “No point. Remember last time? They didn’t do anything and it just ended up making things worse.”
I pulled her to me. “Then come to my house. You’re not going home tonight. Hell, I’ll talk to my parents because I don’t want you going back to that place if I can help it.”
Usually, she would argue with me about not wanting to intrude or be a bother, but this time, she just nodded and allowed me to lead her to my car.
Once we were on the road, I put on a CD that I’d made her when I was trying to win a bet and prove that I knew what her favorite songs were. With Serenity, she may talk about certain artists and be at parties dancing to the latest upbeat hit while screaming the lyrics at the top of her longs, but typically, those weren’t the songs that reached her heart.
Serenity loved ballads. She loved the soulful, meaningful music. Little had I known when I’d put the CD together that “Not Gon’ Cry” by Mary J Blige, “Un-Break My Heart” by Toni Braxton, and “All Cried Out” by Allure would be staples in serving the purpose of letting her release her emotions and heartache that her mom had caused when she first began hitting her. I hadn’t known that I would listen to each word in a different way because instead of assuming the songs had been about losing a lover, it made me wonder if the artist had even known how many kids in the world with fucked up parents would sing the song, pleading for God to send them a sign that their parents loved them.
Serenity was the best person I knew. She deserved so much more than what she’d been given. To have a step-father who beat her mom, and a mom who’d turn around and beat her was something I couldn’t even fathom. I hated her parents for what they were doing to her. Hated that they couldn’t see how beautiful she was inside and out, but especially on the inside.
Dating Serenity opened my eyes to a different kind of love, yet it hurt me to know the girl that I loved sometimes questioned why she was brought into this world if those who were supposed to love her unconditionally didn’t. Her birth father wasn’t any better, the once every three-years birthday card almost a cruel reminder for her that had he stayed, things may have been different. I didn’t think so though. He had another now and any man who did nothing more than sign the card and didn’t even bother to mail it in the right month wasn’t worth the time or energy she spent thinking about his worthless ass.
I let her silently cry the entire car ride home. When we got to my house, I didn’t even have to explain the situation before my mom pulled Serenity into her arms told us to go to the basement so she could make us some food. While Serenity was in the shower, I got the food and gave my mom the tightest hug I could because I couldn’t imagine not having her in my life. Cynthia Madden was one of the great ones. The best if you asked me.
After Serenity had changed into some of my gym shorts and T-shirt, I turned on the TV to drown out the noise in her head, but her mind seemed like it was miles away.
“Are you ready to eat?”
“Maybe later.”
I frowned. “What can I do to make it better?”
She shook her head. “Nothing more than what you’re already doing.”
I glanced at her hair, still in a ponytail from when she’d probably put it up during her shower. Climbing up onto the couch, I motioned for her to lean forward. When she did, I slid behind her, then gently pulled her back to me as I removed her ponytail holder and began massaging her head. Serenity carried all her stress in her head, and I knew first-hand how insane her headaches were.
My guess was that she had a massive migraine brewing, but was feeling numb after all the crying. So I let my fingers do the talking that she wasn’t ready to do yet. Minutes later, I felt her body relax into mine, my own body relaxing in response.
By the time she fell asleep, I’d already decided that I wasn’t moving from the position I currently held her in. If being Serenity’s pillow for the rest of the night meant she would get a good night’s sleep, then it was a small price to pay for her peace.
* * *
Present …
I hadn’t seen Serenity in over a day, and even though we’d been apart for over a decade, it already felt strange not having her around the house. After I carried her into her bedroom and placed her gently on the bed, I hadn’t returned until I brought her dinner, which I left outside of her door that night.
The next time I went upstairs, the plate on the tray was empty and the bottle of water was gone. Yesterday morning, I did the same thing, only returning to pick up the empty tray. Repeated the same motion for lunch and dinner, asking her several times through the closed door if she was okay, her response being yes written on a napkin and slipped under the door.
I’d been okay with giving her some space. However, now that we were approaching lunch and it had been over twenty-four hours, it was a bit unsettling knowing that I was the reason she was so unhinged right now.
“You still there?”
I shook my head to try and focus on what the caller was saying. “Yeah, can you repeat that last part?”
“Where’s your head at, man?”
“You already know where it’s at. I hope bringing her here was the right thing to do.”
“It was,” he said. “You already know how these muthafuckas operate, and you can protect her better than anyone. How is she holding up being there?”
I glanced up my basement stairs as if she was standing at the top versus two levels above me secluded in her bedroom. “Not good. I’m starting to think I should have taken your advice and used a different approach besides the tea to get her here.”
“You couldn’t chance it,” he said. “Based off what you told me after you left your brother’s place, she wouldn’t have gone with you willingly.”
“Nah, she wouldn’t. If we could wrap this shit up sooner than a month, I could get her back to her old life.”
“You sure you want to do that?” he asked. “You just got her back.”
“Not willingly,” I reminded him. “Besides, you know with the kind of shit we do, we can’t afford to have the kind of life we want.”
“I know I can’t, but after this shit goes down, you may see things differently than you have these past few years.”
I listened to my friend’s words, letting them sink in. I’d done so much crap I never thought I would have ever done in this lifetime, I couldn’t imagine going back to my old life. Or even telling Serenity all the foul things I’d been a part of.
“Feels like I’ve waited a lifetime to see her again,” I told him. “But she’s already been through so much in life. What kind of man would I be if I tried to convince her to change everything for me?”
“The kind who goes after what’s in his heart the same way he does our targets. You’ve been out there too long by yourself. You need human interaction.”
“I’m good. And you know the shit we’ve done. Serenity isn’t like that. She’s nothing like us.”
“Then maybe you need to give her a reason to love the new you, not the childhood boyfriend she remembers. Knowing you, you probably ain’t doin’ shit but glaring at her or avoiding any contact with her. The Serenity you told me about wouldn’t react well to that. She’d need answers. She would want to talk.”
I cleared my throat, hating how right I knew he was. “Any additional news on the target?”
“Nah. They got their goons doin’ all their dirty work from some place in Maine I think. It’s hard to tell, but we’re on it.”
“I appreciate it, Scotch. Pass my gratitude to the others, will you?”
“Sure thing. Be good out there and keep your head up. I’ll contact you when I have an update.”
I was still thinking about my talk with Scotch way after we hung up the phone. Throughout the years, he’d been a steady voice for me. Relief from everything I’d seen and experienced, because he understood the scars. His advice salvation for things I’d done willingly and without regret, because he’d been there in the trenches with me.
I knew Serenity deserved more than what I’d been telling her so far, since really, I hadn’t told her shit. Yet, it was one thing to assume after all these years that she couldn’t understand me. It was another thing entirely to actually open up to her and experience the disbelief in person.
Rejection.
I was all too familiar with the word, but not in the way most people were. For me, it held a much more bitter taste because although I felt like I’d been rejected by my family, the truth was, I’d rejected myself because I couldn’t face them without feeling guilty. Without knowing that I’d never be the same son my parents raised or brother my siblings grew up with.
To feel excluded in a way that coursed through my veins each and every time I looked at my last name on a piece of paper was a feeling I was all too familiar with. I didn’t deserve Serenity’s compassion, and a part of me was worried that I would never survive hearing her true feelings about me. How could I when I wasn’t even sure I’d accepted my fate myself?
My thoughts ceased when I heard the slight creak of the wooden floor. The third step of my stairs to be precise. To an untrained ear, they may not have heard it from the basement under thick cement, but I knew it was Serenity, and if I heard that creak of the stairs, it meant she was finally ready to face me again. I only hoped I was ready to face her.
When I opened the basement door and locked it back behind me, she was already sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea in her hand. Her hair was pulled up into a bun and her eyes were red as if she’d been crying. Heartbreaking as it was, I knew she’d cried hella times because of me over the years. I never intended to be the cause of so much of her pain. Serenity was a survivor of her circumstances, and I’d had a front row seat to the devastation that had swept through her life. Yet, for some reason, I convinced myself that I didn’t have to be honest with her until I was ready.
Looking at her beautiful dark-honey eyes, I caught a glimpse of hope that I hadn’t seen in her eyes since she awakened. She was ready to listen to me. To try and understand what I had to attempt to explain. It baffled me what held us back in our lives sometimes. The shit that we convinced ourselves was right versus wrong. If I waited any longer to talk to Serenity, didn’t that make me just as much of an asshole as the others who’d hurt her in her life?
Seven
SERENITY
* * *
I took a deep breath after taking a sip of my warm tea, the liquid soothing the nerves that seemed to be stuck in my throat, choking me with what was yet to come. The heart was a funny thing. I didn’t want mine to be pounding at the sight of him standing in the kitchen across from me wearing a black T-shirt and black jogging pants, but it was. I couldn’t really recall what he’d been wearing the other times I saw him, but he looked pretty dangerous right now.
Not in a way that scared me since I’d dropped the notion that he was probably trying to hurt me, but he just looked so rugged and hardened around the edges that it was taking me a while to get the Carter from my past outside of my head and replace him with the one standing before me. It almost felt like two different men, but I knew he was the same Carter. Felt it in the way our cosmic energy seemed to circulate around the room whether I liked it or not.
Even though I was mentally trying to adjust to the drastic change my world had taken when he’d re-entered my life without warning, I still wasn’t over the fact that he’d kidnapped me and had yet to give me a good reason as to why.
I’d cried for hours over him and this unexpected situation until suddenly, I realized I didn’t want to cry anymore. I wanted answers. Needed answers. Still, I couldn’t let myself believe that I would get them anytime soon until he surprised me by saying, “I know you have a lot of questions for me, and I’m willing to answer them for you as best as I can.”
My eyes widened, observing his every move as he leaned against the wall. It wasn’t fair to still feel so connected with him after all this time. After all the pain he’d caused me and the anger I still kind of felt.
It was equally hard to convince myself to trust him and believe that me being here was in my best interest because how could I know if he was the same man that I used to trust with my soul? With my deepest secrets. With my desires and aspirations for a better life.
He was waiting for me to ask him some questions, but now that I had the green light, it seemed my words were trapped in my throat.
He squinted, his eyes looking past my shoulder at the corner of his living room before asking, “Do you still meditate?”
My gaze softened, a memory I hadn’t thought of in years resurfacing with his words. “Yes, I still practice the meditating techniques.”
He nodded. “Good. I do, too. Let’s head outside. I’ll grab a couple workout mats.”
I had barely agreed before he grabbed the mats and started walking toward the back deck.
“Do I need a sweater or something?”
He shook his head. “This mountain weather changes daily. One minute, the wind chill is below zero. The next, we’re in sunny sixty-five-degree weather. Typical for West Coast mountains.”
West Coast. I wonder if he slipped up in telling me that? Granted, I was able to tell we were on some sort of mountain or hilly area given the large surrounding craters, but Carter hadn’t answered me any time I’d asked where we were.
As we stepped out onto the deck, he glanced over his shoulder as he laid down the mats. There was something in his look that made me think maybe it hadn’t been a slip of the tongue at all.
“Did you mean to tell me we are on the West Coast?”
He smirked. “Come on, let’s sit down and work on those techniques. It will help with your anxiety, and you can ask me any questions you want in the meantime. If you still want to talk after, we can.”
I nodded. “Okay. In all honesty, I haven’t done these techniques in about a year.” I hadn’t needed to. I sat down next to him, adjusting the yoga pants and tank I threw on before coming downstairs.
“Let’s start by taking a deep breath,” he suggested, sitting Indian-style on the mat.
