Ethan, Who Loved Carter (18 page)

“They lied to me,” Ethan said. Instead of loosening his hold on Carter, as he often did when Carter’s tics called for more room, Ethan kept himself planted firm around him with his face lodged into Carter’s jerking shoulder. “Family isn’t supposed to lie to you.”

“No.” Carter bit down on his need to rail at Ethan for not bringing Mike and Douglas into his anger, but maybe Ethan wasn’t ready for that. Maybe what Ethan needed for now was to be angry at his family, the people who he knew loved him, than to deal with the hatred Mike and Douglas had handed to him. “You want to take a shower?” He rubbed Ethan’s back. He was hot through his shirt. Carter wanted to ask how his parents had broken the news, but he didn’t want to make Ethan relive the moment. “Could make you feel better.”

“Okay.” Ethan stuck next to Carter as they walked to the staircase. Carter expected to walk upstairs with him, but Ethan broke free. He kissed Carter, a small brush across Carter’s lips, but one with purpose, which said as well as words that Carter should wait. Ethan climbed the stairs alone. Carter went to the kitchen and sat down with a beer. Drinking sometimes made his tics worse, but he wanted the numbness now. It was another bad reason for doing it, but he ended up clutching it more than drinking it, and staring at the salt shaker on the table as he waited for Ethan to return.

When Ethan walked into the kitchen, he’d changed into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. His hair was soaking wet and foaming with soap suds. He tried a smile. It didn’t meet his eyes, but Carter returned it. If Ethan could make an effort, so could he.

“You’ve still got a little soap in your hair,” Carter said gently.

Ethan’s smile faltered. He reached up and pulled away a handful of suds. Both the smile and Ethan fell. He caught himself in a chair, but the smile had no recovery. Ethan began to cry, heaving sobs that stretched between him and Carter and rattled Carter too. Carter slapped the table, glad that Ethan was used to his tics enough not to jump or think Carter was angry with him. He got up as soon as his body let him.

“I forgot,” Ethan said. Carter passed him a napkin for his nose. He crumpled it into his fist. “I’m just stupid.”

“You’re not,” Carter said, angrier than he intended. “Don’t say that.”

Ethan looked up, red-faced. Mucus rolled down his lip. “I am. Brain-damaged. Always going to be stupid.”

“I’m the stupid one.”

Carter’s statement pulled Ethan up short. He sniffled as he examined Carter’s face. Carter bent to Ethan’s level and let him look.

“I shouldn’t have sent you to shower when you have so much on your mind. Anyone would forget to rinse in your situation.”

“Really?” Despite his tears and his assertion, Ethan seemed ready to grasp onto Carter’s statement.

Carter brushed Ethan’s hair off his face, as Ethan tilted his head back. Carter looked into Ethan’s eyes, those beautiful expressive eyes he loved with his whole life. “I would have.”

Ethan’s expression changed into the one Carter knew as his “protection” mode. It was the one Ethan wore when he thought Carter had a nightmare or needed a hug. Ethan understood, which was all Carter had hoped for.

“Can I wash it out for you?” Carter asked. Ethan nodded. He didn’t let go of Carter as Carter guided him to the sink. Carter pulled a chair over. Grabbing a phonebook, he plopped it down in the seat and nudged Ethan to sit down with his back to the sink. The phonebook raised him enough that he could lean back comfortably. “There. We’ll have you suds-free in no time.”

After folding a towel over the lip of the counter, Carter guided Ethan to rest his head on it. Using the hose attachment in the sink, he rinsed Ethan’s hair. He took his time getting the soap out, rubbing Ethan’s scalp as he rinsed. When the water ran clean, he put the hose away and returned both hands to Ethan’s hair. He massaged Ethan’s head until Ethan’s tears dried. “Is that better?”

“Can we go to bed? Please?” Ethan looped an arm around Carter’s waist and leaned on him, pressing his wet head against Carter’s shirt. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Okay.” Putting his arm around Ethan’s shoulders, Carter helped him stand up. He toweled Ethan’s hair dry, reaching up to do it as Ethan stood still and let him. After Carter got most of the damp out, they headed toward the stairs. As they went up, his mind flashed to foolish things like
“Are the sheets clean?”
and
“Did I pick up the laundry from the floor?”
but none of it mattered because Ethan went to the bed, climbed in, and pulled Carter down with him. He pressed his nose against Carter’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I’m a bad boyfriend.”

“You’re a good boyfriend.”

“Good boyfriends don’t do what I do.”

“Yeah, Ethan, they do. Maybe not exactly like this, but if I were sad, you’d stick with me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.” He buried his face again.

Carter held him. He didn’t call upon his faith too much anymore, even though God was often on his mind. But he closed his eyes and asked Jesus to protect Ethan and help him through this and to show Carter what he needed to do to be the support Ethan needed. Then he asked God to forgive him for the hatred that he couldn’t help feeling toward the men who had hurt Ethan. Ethan cried himself to sleep. Carter did not sleep. It was better to stay awake and keep Ethan in his arms than rest and risk letting him slip out for even one second.

C
ARTER
’
S
doorbell played a tune similar to a Swiss clock his grandmother owned. Each time Carter heard it, he remembered mashed potatoes with the lumps in and humming along with the clock as a child. Those were pleasant memories to wake him, but as the bell continued, his groggy mind recognized that someone was at the door. He nudged Ethan, who had claimed all the covers and lay cocooned in them. “Hey. I have to go answer the door.”

“If it’s Mom and Dad, I don’t want to see them.”

Carter looked around for his pants. “I think it’s the UPS guy. Alice’s sending a new score up. Not that I’m done with the one I’ve got.”

Ethan pulled the blanket back over his face. “I don’t want to see my parents.”

“Okay.” Carter slid the blanket down enough to kiss Ethan’s forehead. “Go back to sleep.” The doorbell rang again. He grabbed a shirt and went to answer it.

Liz looked like she’d been up all night. “How is he?” she asked.

Carter stepped out of the way to let her in. “He’s still sleeping. Do you want some coffee?”

“Thank you.” She followed him into the kitchen. “You have a nice house.” The comment held little enthusiasm, though Carter believed her sincerity.

He’d forgotten Liz had never been over. “Thank you. Ethan helped with some of the decorating.”

“Yes, he’s always been good at that.” Her voice cracked and she pressed her hand to her lips. Carter busied himself with the coffeemaker to give her time to herself. He needed time too, to decide if his anger had any merit directed toward her.

“He’s upset. About everything.”

“We thought we were doing the right thing. At the time, helping him get better was the only thing on our minds. He couldn’t have understood what happened then.” She took two spoons and mugs off Carter’s dish rack and passed them to him. “I’m not sure if he understands now.”

Ethan had squeezed Carter in the night, not letting go even in sleep. “He understands.”

“Shit.”

The vehemence of Liz’s response threw Carter. “Wha-what do you, do you, wuh, wuh, uh.” He smacked his leg. He kept himself turned from Liz, in case she looked at him with pity. “They were at Pepper’s. Every day. I don’t understand why Vera didn’t recognize them. She knew Ethan before the accident.” He turned back around. His voice rose in desperation. “Why didn’t she recognize them?”

“They were minors. Their names and pictures were never in the news.”

“She still could have known. Rumors happen.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Liz looked like she was holding onto her emotions by a thread. “Sixteen looks a lot different from twenty-six.”

Carter didn’t have anything to say to that.

“You can bet she’ll be giving herself a hard time because of this.”

“Yeah.”

“I want to talk to him.”

Carter pounded out a new rhythm on his opposite arm. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

“Is he upstairs?”

“I’m sorry. I promised him.”

“I need to talk to him.”

Seeing she’d go anyway, Carter told her. “In the bedroom, second door.”

“Thank you.”

She went up. Carter poured the coffee to distract himself from worrying that he’d caved too soon. He had it waiting when she returned a few minutes later.

“I talked to him through the door. I had to respect his wishes that much.” She pulled three medicine bottles from her purse. “These are his medications. He takes each once a day, and this….” She pulled out a fourth. “…is his antidepressant. He—I’m sorry, Carter, but I think he’s chosen your bed to hole up. He’s done this before, but it’s been awhile. There’s nothing to do but wait it out. I asked him if he wants to see his therapist, but he didn’t answer. I can give you Dr. Sorensen’s number if Ethan decides he wants to speak to her.”

Carter took the bottles. “You don’t mind that he’s staying here?”

Liz planted her hands on the back of a chair. “May I sit?”

“Sure.” Carter sat too. He still hadn’t painted the chairs like Ethan had suggested. Liz closed her eyes as she sipped from her mug. Carter had given her a blue mug from his father’s insurance company. He used one Alice had given him—solid red with a large black “C.”

“I imagine you weren’t planning on this when you and Ethan started dating.”

“I didn’t really have a plan,” Carter said. He wrapped his hands around his mug, not ready to drink. “I just hit a moment when I couldn’t deny how I felt any longer. I had to be more than friends with him.”

Liz copied Carter’s hand position. Carter wasn’t sure if it was intentional. Her expression was warm, even with her obvious weariness that made her eyelids droop. “I think the question is if you mind that he’s here. Ethan can choose where he likes to hide himself away and… deal with all this. Can you handle that he’s chosen here?”

“Yes.” Carter felt no question, no doubt. He could handle it. Ethan had come to him.

“It’s not an easy thing when Ethan does this.”

“I know how it is to want to hole up and shut everything out.”

“After the beach.”

“And other times.”

“I’m sorry about that. I really thought—I mean I never expected that Elliot would behave that way.”

Carter forced himself to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “I’ve heard that girls make teenaged boys do stupid things. Not that I would know.”

Liz rested her elbows on the table. “No girlfriends in your past?”

“No one wants to date the twitchy kid. I had my first boyfriend my junior year of college.”

“That must have been lonely.”

Super-social people never understood that he wasn’t lonely. “I only need one or two good friends. That’s what I’ve always had.”

“How long have you been out of college?”

“Three years.” Carter wasn’t sure where the conversation was going.

“You’re twenty-four?”

“Almost twenty-five. Why?”

“I’ve raised Ethan. You could say I’ve raised him twice. I know how difficult this can be. I appreciate that you want to let him stay,” Liz said.

“I want him to do what he wants to do. Don’t you think it would upset him to go home, considering what he just learned?”

“I’m not trying to take him away. I only wanted to say that if you need help with anything, please call.”

“Oh.”

“Nolan and I would like to come again tomorrow. Would that be all right?”

Carter glanced at her hands. “It’s up to Ethan. He’s angry.”

Reaching across the table, she touched Carter’s wrist. “He did something good when he found you.”

“We found each other. I’d better go check on him. Can you let yourself out?”

“Yeah. I need to get home anyway and check on Nolan and Elliot. Elliot’s not at school today. He didn’t want to go, and we thought it was best to let him have a day at home.” Her smile this time was more pained. “We’re in crisis mode with Elliot. He’s angrier than I’ve ever seen him.”

“That’s saying a lot,” Carter said.

Liz gave a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll stay if you like.”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

“Okay.” She stood up. “I’m sorry, Carter.”

“Thanks.” He showed her out the back door. Leaving the two mugs on the table, he went back up to Ethan. Ethan hadn’t moved. Carter got into bed and curled around him. It was still early, before eight o’clock. “Your mom’s gone.”

“Don’t want to see anyone,” Ethan said.

“Not even me?”

Ethan didn’t answer.

“She brought your pills. Want me to go get them?”

“No.”

“What are they for?”

“So I don’t have a stroke. Don’t hurt my brain more.”

“Then you should take them, right?”

“I want to go back to sleep.”

“Ethan. If I get the pills, will you take them? Then you can sleep, I promise.”

Ethan’s answer came after what seemed to be a long internal struggle. “Okay.”

Carter kissed the top of Ethan’s head, the one place he could reach that wasn’t covered. He breathed in Ethan’s scent, the smell of Carter’s shampoo lingering from the night before. “Be right back.”

His steps fell heavy on the stairs. Carter knew that Ethan still took medicine, but he’d never asked what it was for. Anti-stroke? That was serious and scary. He needed to learn more about Ethan’s condition. He’d been stupid and irresponsible not to realize it before. Too busy pretending they were a normal couple, perhaps. He should know how to care for Ethan, especially if he would have moments like this when he refused to care for himself. He picked up the pill bottles. After a moment’s hesitation, he picked up the antidepressant too. He went back upstairs with the pills and a glass of milk.

“Your mom left you your antidepressants if you want them.”

Ethan emerged from his blanket to accept his three regular pills as Carter tapped one out of each bottle. “Do I have to?”