by Whitney G.
Sincerely, Carter
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Whitney Gracia Williams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Cover design by Najla Qambers of Najla Qambers Designs
Formatting by Erik Gevers
Table of Contents
Titlepage
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Fourth Grade
Track 1. Blank Space (3:47)
Track 2. Wildest Dreams. (3:54)
Track 3. All Too Well (3:42)
Fifth Grade
Track 4. Sad Beautiful Tragic (4:13)
Track 5. Sparks Fly (3:23)
Track 6. Breathless (3:49)
Track 7. Eyes Open (3:59)
Ninth Grade
Track 8. Both of Us (4:21)
Track 9. Tell Me Why (3:13)
Track 10. The Best Day (3:55)
Track 11. I Knew You Were Trouble (1:55)
Tenth Grade
Track 12. The Moment I Knew (4:09)
Track 13. The Last Time (4:56)
Track 14. Speak Now (3:42)
Track 15. Everything Has Changed (3:43)
Eleventh Grade
Track 16. Love Story (3:27)
Track 17. Come in With the Rain (5:12)
Track 18. Crazier (3:08)
Track 19. I’m Only Me When I’m With You (2:22)
Twelfth Grade
Track 20. All You Had to Do Was Stay (4:49)
Track 21. Should’ve Said No (2:44)
Freshman Year
Track 22. Two is Better than One (3:58)
Three Weeks Gone
Track 23. Treacherous (3:39)
Track 24. Half of My Heart (4:15)
Track 25. Come Back…Be Here (2:58)
Track 26. We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together (3:53)
Three Months Gone…And More
Track 27. Begin Again. (5:03)
Track 28. How You Get the Girl (4:32)
Track 29. I Wish You Would (3:44)
Track 30. Shake It Off (3:18)
Track 31. You’re Not Sorry (3:22)
Track 32. You Belong With Me (3:37)
Acknowledgments
Also by Whitney G
Titlepage Resentment
Resentment Prologue
For Tamisha Draper.
You are literally the BEST BFF a girl could ever ask for…
Thank you for the endless Starbucks meet-ups and conversations that led to the creation of this book!
(And yes…I’m gratefully aware that the ‘Sincerely, Carter’ title was your idea…)
(And no, Chris Draper, I will not credit you just because you’re her husband…LOL)
Prologue
I can still remember, with the type of clarity that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, the very beginning of bullshit. At least, in my own life.
I was ten years old, and my parents—“The James’ at 1100 Joyce Avenue,” were holding a fundraiser in our home. In the middle of the thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner, my father decided to give an unnecessary speech.
There he was—six foot four, genuine American blue eyes, and genuinely greedy, talking about how he wanted to invest in healthier menus for the kids in school. He also wanted to help invest in better disciplinary ideals since he knew of a certain child (it was me) who couldn’t stay out of trouble to save his life.
Still, none of those ideals warranted the bullshit label—the next ones did: As he was toasting to all of his sponsors in the room, he lifted his glass and said, “I consider everyone here tonight to be a friend of mine. If you’re not a friend, it’s only because you’re family, and family is forever. The main reason I’m saying this right now is because my own late father taught me a very important lesson that has stuck with me for all these years: Some people come into your life for a reason, some a season, and some a lifetime.”
There was loud applause, lots of cheering and heartfelt “So true…So true…” responses tossed around the room at that moment. And then an older man stooped down to my level and said, “Your father is right, you know? Remember everything he just said.”
“What did he just say?”
“He said some people come into your life for a reason, some a season, and some a lifetime.” He smiled. “You should keep that in mind as much as you can in your life.” He winked at me and walked away.
I didn’t know it then, but my father and his fickle follower had practically predicted my future…
A few years after he gave that speech, he must’ve figured he’d obliged his “reason” in me and my mom’s life because he left us both. Several years after that, my mother decided her “season” of motherhood was done, and decided that she was tired of being a mom—that her real calling could be found in smoke bars and casinos. As far as for “a lifetime,” I could only think of one person who ever came close…
Fourth Grade
Dear Miss Carpenter,
I am sorry that I was bad in class yesterday. I did not mean to cause a dissrupshun, and I am sorry that I broke your best pens, but I am not sorry that I HATE Arizona Turner.
She is ugly and she talks way too much. I don’t know why you never send her to the office like you send me. She deserves to be punish too, and I hope she dies tomorrow so I won’t have to see her or her ugly metal mouth anymore.
Sincerely,
Carter
I smiled and handed the letter to my mom, hoping that this time would be the charm—that she wouldn’t make me rewrite it all over again.
I was beyond tired of Arizona getting me into trouble and laughing about it. She thought she was so smart because she knew the answers to all the questions in class, but I knew them, too. Especially because I knew where our teacher kept the answer key and I always stole it at lunchtime.
My parents knew her parents personally because they always had to go to conferences about me “picking on her” and “making her cry,” but no one believed me when I told them that she was the one who started it.
She always started it…
“Carter…” My mom took a deep breath and shook her head. “This is a terrible letter. It’s worse than the last three you wrote.”
“How? I didn’t call Arizona any names this time. I just said I wanted her to die.”
“You don’t think you’re hurting her feelings whenever you call her ugly?”
“She is ugly.”
“She’s not ugly.” My father stepped into the room. “Now, those braces in her mouth might be, but as a whole? She’s pretty cute.”
“Seriously?” My mom glared at him, and he laughed.
“Sorry.” He walked over and patted me on the back. “It’s not nice to call someone ugly, son. No matter how much you hate her. You’ve got to stop letting this Arizona girl get to you. This is the fifth time this year you’ve gotten in trouble.”
“Eighth time.” My mother corrected him. “He pushed her off the swings when she was in mid-air last week.”
My father looked at me. “And what did you do this time?”
I didn’t answer him. I looked down at the floor instead.
“He stood up in the middle of a math test and said, ‘I hate you, Arizona',” my mom said. “He then proceeded to grab the poor girl’s test paper, ball it up, and throw it across the roo
m…He missed and knocked his teacher’s favorite glass pens to the floor.”
Shaking his head, my dad sighed. “Just stop talking to this girl, okay? Don’t even look her way. You’re going to have to learn to ignore her, no matter what. Something tells me she won’t be a ‘lifetime’ person for you anyway. She’s just seasonal, so she’ll go away soon. Trust me.”
“Glad to see you finally acting like an adult about this.” My mom ripped my letter in half and focused her attention on me. “Now, sit down and write a nice letter to your teacher, an even nicer one to Arizona, and tell her that you’re not going to be mean to her anymore. Try to think of something nice to say, too. Maybe mention something about those pretty dresses she always wears?”
I groaned, but I picked up my pen and wrote.
It took me five more letters to get it right since she made me take out the words “stupid,” “hate,” and “die,” but I finally got it perfect around midnight. Then I promised myself that after I gave Arizona my letter tomorrow, I would never ever speak to her again…
The next day at school, I set the sorry note on my teacher’s desk super early and walked down the farthest row—plopping down in the very last seat. Then I took out my homework and tried to finish a few more math questions before class started.
I counted four times seven on my fingers and saw Arizona taking the seat next to me.
“Good morning, Carter,” she said.
I pretended that I didn’t hear her.
“Carter?” She tapped my shoulder and I wrote twenty-eight on my paper.
“Hello?” She tapped my shoulder even harder. “Carter? Carter?”
“WHAT?!” I finally looked at her.
“Don’t you have something for me today? Something nice and important?” She smiled her huge mouth of metal.
Ugh. She’s so ugly… “Nope.”
“Your mom didn’t make you write me another ‘I’m very sorry’ note?” She crossed her arms. “Because that’s exactly what she told my mom on the phone this morning.”
“Well, your mom must be deaf and dumb because I didn’t write anything for you.”
“What?” She gasped. “Take that back or I’ll snitch!”
“Go ahead and snitch!” I shrugged, waiting for her to raise her hand and tell on me like always.
She didn’t. She just stared at me. Then she reached into her pocket and tossed a folded note onto my desk.
I wanted to crumple it into a ball and throw it right at her face like I should have done yesterday, but I opened it instead and read:
Dear Carter,
I am sorry that I made you act bad and break Miss Carpenter’s pens yesterday, but I am not sorry that I HATE you. You are ugly and you talk way too much. That’s why I always get you in trouble because you can’t shut up and you think you know everything BUT YOU DON’T! I really wish you will get hit by a bus one day soon because you suck. You suck A LOT.
Not Sincerely,
Arizona
We became best friends that very day…
Track 1. Blank Space (3:47)
Present Day
The sex just isn’t enough anymore…
I shook my head as my current girlfriend, Emily, ran in circles around me on the beach. Dressed in a bright red bikini, she smiled as she splashed me, garnering the jealous attention of other guys nearby. Every so often, when I smiled back at her, she would untie the camera from her wrist and stand next to me—holding it high above us while yelling, “Selfie time! Cutest Couple Everrr!”
To be honest, everything about this woman was damn near perfect on the outside: She was stunningly beautiful with light green eyes and full soft lips; she had an infectious laugh that could make the most sullen person smile, and her sense of humor was pretty similar to mine. She had a naturally bubbly personality that could make any stranger believe she was a best friend at a first encounter, and behind closed doors, her desire for sex was almost as high as mine.
That’s where her nice qualities ended though, and I unfortunately found that out much too late.
A few months after we started to date seriously, her true character began to show: First, I found out that her naturally bubbly personality wasn’t “natural” at all; it was a side effect of the illegal Adderall she often abused and overdosed. Second, was her habit of texting me every hour on the hour with “I miss you, baby. Where are you?” whenever we weren’t together. If I didn’t answer her in three minutes or less, she would text me repeatedly: “Are you dead? ARE. YOU. DEAD?!” And lastly, the reason I was definitely ending this relationship sooner than later, was her new and weird-ass sex fetish: She liked to crawl around the room on all fours and purr like a kitten before and after sex. She even “meowed” when she came.
Some shit I just couldn’t handle for the long term…
“Hey, you!” Emily splashed me, knocking me out of my thoughts. “What are you over there thinking about?”
“A lot of things…” I admitted.
“That’s why I like you, Carter.” She smiled. “You’re always in deep thought, thinking about deep things…” She held the camera above us. “Deep-thought selfie!”
“Right…” I waited until she’d snapped the photo. “Are you ready to head back yet?”
“Almost! Give me five minutes. I want to wade farther out and feel the waves against my chest one last time.”
I nodded and watched her slip into the ocean—beckoning me to join her, but I simply forced a smile and stayed back. I was still thinking, still wondering why I could never get past the six month mark with any woman I dated—why I could never find enough strength to stick around another second.
“Okay!” Emily met me on the shore. “I’m ready to head back now if you are, Carter. I know what’s really on your mind…” She pressed her hand against my crotch. “Meow…”
Jesus…
I moved her hand away and clasped it, leading her back toward my place.
“What do you think about going to the Everglades tomorrow?” she asked.
“I think we should talk about that tomorrow...We actually have a lot to talk about.”
“Awww.” She squeezed my hand. “It sounds like you’re finally going to let me inside and tell me all your deep, dark secrets…”
“I don’t have any deep, dark secrets.”
“Well, whatever you want to talk about tomorrow, can we not talk about it at Gayle’s?”
“What?” I looked over at her and raised my eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Because, although I know you love the food there and I do, too, I hate that place. Like, being there, you know?”
“Not really…”
“I just feel like it’s not our own ‘couple spot’, you know? Every couple needs their own “OMG this is our spot” type of place. Speaking of which, I was thinking we need to post more pictures of us together on Facebook. I’ll be posting what we took today on tomorrow. What do you think of the caption: “OMG my boyfriend took me on a surprise trip to the beach? Hashtag, he loves me, hashtag, don’t be jealous, hashtag, he always spends money on me.”
“The beach is free…”
She ignored my comment and continued babbling, eventually transitioning from our social media profiles to how badly she wanted to ride me tonight, but the second we got back to my place, she collapsed onto my bed and fell asleep.
Relieved, I took a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter. I needed to think tomorrow’s break-up through. I needed it to be short, swift, and to the point.
“It’s not you, it’s me…” “I’m just not sure if I’m really the man you’re looking for…” “Okay, look. It’s that weird-ass cat shit you do...” No, no…I need to be diplomatic about this… Hmmm…
I googled, “Top Ten Best Ways to Break Up with Someone,” but the browser crashed and a phone call came through instead. My best friend, Arizona.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Meowwww….” she whispered. “Meowww…Meow!”
&nbs
p; “Fuck you, Ari.”
She laughed. “Are you busy right now? Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all.” I stepped into my room and tapped the wall to see if Emily would wake up. “I just got back from the beach. Emily passed out as soon as we got back.”
“Did she eat too much catnip? That happens to me all the time.”
“Is there a point to this goddamn phone call, Ari?”
“There is.” She laughed. “There is.”
“Care to share it before I hang up on you?”
“Yeah…I think I finally want to have sex with Scott tonight.”
“Okay. Then go finally have sex with Scott tonight.”
“No, no, no…” Her tone was more serious now. “I’m just not sure if I should or not, you know? I’m getting some vibes…”
“What kind of vibes?”
“That it’s not a good idea, that it’s not the right time.”
I sighed. Arizona always needed to host an internal examination session whenever she was considering sleeping with a guy. Everything had to be measured in terms of risks and returns, down to “the intensity of the kisses,” “the average length and quality of the dates,” and “the long-term relationship factor.” Even though she denied it, I knew she kept a spreadsheet on her phone to track all of those ridiculous factors, and that she started a new one each time she dated someone.
“Look,” I said, “if you don’t want to sleep with him, don’t. Tell him you’re not ready yet.”
“Do you think he’ll be okay with that, though? We’ve been together eight months.”
“What?” I nearly choked on my beer. “It’s been eight months?”
“See? That’s the thing, and I know he feels like tonight is the night since I kind of alluded to it, but…I don’t know. I’m not sure if he’s worth the risk. I don’t want to get burned again…”
“Wait a minute.” I shook my head. “Where are you right now?”
“In Scott’s apartment.”
“Then where the hell is he?”
“He went to CVS to get us some condoms.”
“At least his heart is in the right place…” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously though, if you’re not one hundred percent sure, just tell him what you just told me. He’ll have to understand.”
