“Hello?” she said, too quietly.
“Carly.” Ethan’s voice betrayed worry, with a touch of relief.
She didn’t say anything at all.
“Carly, listen. That picture. I ... I swear to you I was just sitting there. She fell into my lap and grabbed my hand. I was just shocked. Stunned for a minute. I didn’t have any idea—”
“That Christine Gamin was standing there with her camera?”
“Carly, you have to know that I love you. That I never would have done something like that out of—”
“And yet, there it is, Ethan. Right there in the picture. Pretty clear to me that you did do something like that. With her, no less.”
“No. Listen, Ryan and Andy were there. They can vouch for what happened. I swear to you.”
“Sure, sort of the like the way Ryan told Wendy that you stayed the night at my house the other night, just short of implying that we had sex.”
Through the phone receiver she could hear Ethan make a pained sound, a groan like he’d taken a hit while he was down. “Oh jeez,” he breathed.
Carly sat on the end of her bed, catching sight of herself in the vanity mirror. She had a bedside lamp on but not the overhead light. The lamp cast a soft glow over the carpet. She looked at her panties hanging over the edge of the laundry basket, half-full near her armoire. Her boots sagged together near her closet, the door open just enough to reveal its shadowed contents. She glanced at the window through which he’d come so many times and an ache rose in her throat. Was it over between them? It was up to her, and what she’d seen and what she’d heard at this point was doing a lot toward putting a stake in the heart of her hopes and dreams for their relationship.
She caught a sob in her throat. She choked it back because she wanted to lay into him and let him have it. But part of her died with those hopes and dreams, and she wanted to cry, so he would know just what he’d done to her. So he could hear the pain of his betrayal.
“Carly?”
She held the phone to her ear, but her head fell into her other hand as tears dropped from her eyes.
“What,” she moaned. It was agony to speak, and she knew it would get messy from here. Damn it, she didn’t care.
“Look, first, I’m sorry. You mean everything to me. Everything. If it wasn’t for my mother—”
“Oh spare me, Ethan. And for God’s sake don’t go dragging your poor mother into it. If I really meant everything to you, you wouldn’t go around telling people we’d slept together. You’d guard me against people thinking I was a slut! You’d respect my wishes and me ... my love. God, Ethan, you have no idea how much this hurts me because I really thought you were the one.” She gave a wet, disgusted laugh and sniffled. “Seriously, Ethan. I dared think that you were the man I would marry. That everything you’d told me was true, that we’d really get married someday and spend a beautiful honeymoon on the sands of Cancun—”
“That can still happen.”
“Can it? Can it, Ethan? After seeing you with your hand buried in Sadie McBay’s skirt I’m thinking that’s a ‘no.’”
She cried for a minute, cheeks burning.
“Can I speak?” Ethan responded quietly on the other end of the line.
Carly sniffled, pretty damn sure she didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, and yet hoping that every denial he was about to utter was really true, no matter how unlikely it seemed.
“What Ryan said ... that was true.”
She swallowed. “What?”
“I—I fucked up. I made a stupid mistake. I was talking to him and a couple other guys and they asked how come I wasn’t at the party Saturday night and it just slipped out. I told them I stayed the night with you. And as soon as it slipped out I didn’t add anything. I knew what they thought and I didn’t correct them, because ... well, damn it because the guys are out there having sex with their girlfriends and I guess I ... I just wanted to be cool. I didn’t fess up. I didn’t tell them anything more, but I didn’t fess up. That was stupid of me. And I’m sorry.”
Carly shook her head. She laughed in disgust.
“But, damn it, baby, you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that Sadie and Christine set me up for that picture out of spite. They did it for no other reason than to be spiteful to you, Carly. She fell into my lap, and before I could even process what was happening she’d grabbed my hand and ... and then Christine took the picture, and then they were done with us.”
His words raced like a traffic jam in her head. Right left, right wrong, true untrue ... she didn’t know and she couldn’t tell. All she knew was what she’d heard and seen, and that was pretty damned compelling.
“Damn it, Ethan. Is that the problem? Is it that we’re not having sex? That you have to pretend to your friends that we are, and then go whoring around town with the Queen of Sluts to get your rocks off? Was it good? Was it worth it?” And it burned inside of her the thought of how beautiful Sadie was, how sickening stunningly gorgeous she was, and how that just reinforced that there was no way in hell Ethan James could have said no to a girl like that.
“None of this is worth it, Carly. I didn’t want you to feel this way. If I could take back what I said I would. And nothing happened with Sadie, damn it!”
There was genuine fury in his voice, but she second-guessed everything now. Was it because he’d hurt her, or because he’d gotten caught in his charade? For just a moment she was tempted to hang up. Just end the call and lie back on her bed and cry it out. Grab her pillow and hug it to her chest. But how could she stand to look again at his picture? Or smell the faint redolence of his cologne on her coat, or on the pillow he’d used the other night.
“Well,” Ethan said angrily. “I guess between my stupidity and Sadie’s conniving she got what she wanted.”
Carly stared at the wall, still quiet, holding the phone to her ear, staring at her wall-length Japanese mural painting of a temple with cherry blossoms, and the Japanese symbols for “hope.” It seemed so bittersweet now. There was always hope in the chaos. Hope in the pain. Hope for a brighter day at the end of a long winter. There was cold, and there was loneliness, and then there was love, from the most unexpected places. Cycles of seasons, cycles of life. From cold and darkness to warmth and light. It took time for things to come around. Could she and Ethan come back from this? Could there be healing here? It was a moot point in a way, as she wasn’t even sure she could bear to end it.
“Is this it then, Carly? Will we let her tear us apart? After everything we’ve been through? Please say no. Give me a chance to prove to you that what I’m saying is true. Just give it a few days at least, okay? Just give it some time, and let’s talk again. Please hear what Andy and Ryan have to say. If you end this now ... I don’t know what I’d do. You really are everything to me, Carly.”
She found herself nodding. This is really what she wanted. She wanted it to go away. She wanted for this never to have happened, because nothing was good now. It was the absolute worst possible time for things to fall apart. With the anniversary of Mom’s death so close, and with the weirdness in town, and with Abi’s dad ...
“Will you come to the game on Friday?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said quietly.
“And can I see you afterward?”
“Yes.”
“I have to come home after the game and be here for my mom’s appointment that night, but once the nurse gets settled I’ll come right over, okay?”
Carly nodded and dried her eyes. Her throat ached like she’d swallowed a boulder.
“Okay.”
“I love you,” he said. “You have to believe me.”
“I’ll see you Friday.”
“Carly—”
She hung up, staring bleakly at the floor, unsure whether she wanted to scream or cry.
; CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Damn it!” Ethan slammed the phone into the cradle. It was an old-fashioned wall phone with a curly cord because his mother insisted those damn wireless jobs were unreliable. He stared at the dark green plastic of the receiver, wishing he had the power to rewind that conversation and say something else. Something better. Exactly what that was he had no idea. He set his palms firm against the counter top and leaned against it. He stared down at the 1960s metal flake print in the Formica, measuring the depth of his despair.
His mother’s electric wheelchair hummed as it rolled into the kitchen. It made a light thump as it came down off the carpet onto the linoleum. She looked at him with a smile kinder than he felt he deserved.
“Are you okay, Ethan?”
His mom’s smile warmed his gloomy mood. He leaned down and gave her a hug, feeling the tug in his heart at the injustice of her condition. She was his responsibility. Since Dad died in the crash and she’d come out of it mostly paralyzed on her left side and totally paralyzed from the waist down, he’d accepted this as fact. Dad wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, but more than that, he didn’t want it any other way. Ethan knew he had to live his own life, but there were days when he only left the house because his mother insisted that someday he would have to go on without her. He was still young, she’d say, go on out and live.
He pulled out of their one-sided embrace, trying not to focus on the frailty of her limp form. He gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“Oh Mom, I screwed up.”
“Impossible, you’re my perfect son!” But she smiled with a balance of mischief and compassion in her eyes. He reached down and adjusted a stray strand of her gray hair, tucking it behind her ear.
“I wish.”
His mother’s brow wrinkled. She dipped her head just slightly, as much as she was able. “Trouble with Carly?”
He nodded glumly.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Ethan sighed and went to the fridge. He poured a glass of milk and pried a brownie out of a half-empty cake dish. He sat down at the table. Mom turned her wheelchair to join him at the table.
“I might be able to help, you know. Believe it or not, I was a girl once, too.”
His mother’s eyes shone with so much admiration for him that the mere thought of telling her what he’d done was like rolling over on a bed of nails. He shifted in his seat and stared at his glass.
“There was this girl at the pizza parlor last night. She’s a pretty big pain in the ass. A cheerleader, with all of these little worshippers who want to be evil just like her. Anyway, she hates Carly for some reason.”
“Jealousy.”
Ethan shrugged. “I guess. But anyway, she was at the parlor last night and kind of set me up for a picture that made things look bad.”
“A picture?”
Ethan explained as much as he dared to his mom, without the gruesome details. The way she seemed to read his mind sometimes, he was almost afraid his memory of the heat between Sadie’s legs, of his fingertips brushing the silky material and feeling her crotch, would transfer to her mind and she’d know the full extent of his guilt. Fact of the matter was, he hadn’t wanted for it to happen, but he also didn’t want to stop it. Not immediately. Not until he perceived the consequences of what was happening. One thing for sure, she caught him off guard, caught him dead in her trap. And now both he and Carly were paying for his failure to act quickly and push her away.
Ethan groaned to recall it all. He folded his arms and put his head down into the crook of his elbow wanting it to go away.
“Do you love Carly, son?”
“Yes,” he said muffled into his arm.
“Then you should give her time. If it’s really love, the way you feel isn’t going to go away. And if what she feels for you is truly love, she’ll forgive this. Even if part of it was a little bit your fault.”
He looked up at her. Damn it, he thought. She did read my mind.
“You have to give her a reason to trust you again. That means just waiting it out. Focus on what you have to do. Go to practice, come home, do your homework, talk to your friends. They’ll back up your story, but that’s not enough. She might think they’re just trying to protect you.”
“I know.”
His mother smiled. She reached for him with thin fingers, her touch light on the back of his hand. He straightened in his chair and took her hand gently in his, staring at it. Liver spots were just beginning to form. Blue veins were prominent in the pale flesh, her skin soft as the finest silk. She squeezed with surprising strength.
“Give her time,” she said. “Prove faithful, and she’ll come around. But most importantly, learn from this going forward.”
“Oh, you can bet on that.”
“This is one of those things you can’t erase. You have to live with it and make the best of what’s still to come.”
Ethan pressed his lips together in a grim smile. His eyes filmed over with tears, because he felt like his mother wasn’t just talking about his situation, but hers as well. He swelled with love for her, and he wished again that he could give a part of himself to make her whole.
“Don’t do that,” she said. “Just eat the rest of that brownie and get me a piece, would you?”
“Thanks, Mom. I guess you know a thing or two, after all.”
Ethan grinned as he got up to get her a plate and a glass of milk.
“I have my moments,” she said.
They shared a laugh. He felt better following his mother’s advice, but the ache deep in his heart persisted, and he couldn’t get Carly off his mind. Like a wound, he returned to it the rest of the night, haunted by the hurt he’d heard in her voice. She’d had so much loss in her life already. She’d counted on him and he’d let her down.
Never again, he swore. Never again.
Friday couldn’t arrive soon enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Carly sat at her vanity. The scents of her various perfumes on the vanity top wafted as she brushed her hair. She did a few final long, careful strokes through her hair until it reflected the light from above. Then she pulled it back into a ponytail and sat, regarding herself in the mirror like she had so many times before. Her almond shaped eyes, long lashes, high cheekbones. Gently sloped nose, not too big, her chin sharp, maybe a little too sharp. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying. The skin around her nose was red, too. She was pretty, she guessed, but she was no Sadie McBay.
“And I don’t want to be, either.” Her voice was quiet in her room. The dim light on her nightstand was still on. Her door stood open on the upstairs hall. Light glowed from downstairs. She wondered if Dad had fallen asleep. She could just barely hear a murmur from the TV.
The picture of her mother was slipped under the curl of the woodwork atop the oval mirror. She compared her own face to her mother’s and found herself lacking. How lovely Mom had been. And yet, how disturbed. No one looking at that picture could ever have guessed the depths of her affliction. Up one day, happier than a sunny day, then dark the next, unwashed, unresponsive, unwilling to get out of bed. She’d really had two different mothers, and in the end, she loved one and forgave the other. She could almost forget the dismal memories now. They said that sometimes the brain erased the bad stuff to help you cope and she guessed that had earned-out in her life. Looking at that picture of Mom, it evoked nothing but the good memories, the warmth of hugs and cheer. It was Carly’s favorite picture of her. It had been in the same place for years, now. Ever since they’d moved into this house.
“Mom,” she said. She started hesitantly. She’d done this before, when she was younger. In fact, a few years ago, this was commonplace. But now, as she’d gotten older and healed, it hadn’t been necessary. She wondered, sometimes, if Mom missed hearing from her, but she conso
led herself by thinking that Mom would understand. If she truly lived any kind of existence in the beyond, Mom was here all the time. She would understand that Carly was growing up. And while the psychiatrist said there wasn’t anything wrong with talking to her dead mother in the air, Carly came to feel that there was something no longer right about it, maybe the same way a toddler knows they’re done with the bottle. But now it seemed right. Now she needed to talk to someone, to say some things out loud that she couldn’t post on her blog, or talk to Abi or Dad about. Sometimes, she just needed to let it out and not have anyone talk back. And sometimes, she wished that person could be her mother.
“I know it’s been a while since we talked, but I still miss you. I wish you were here for this. I know Dad means well, but he’s ... he doesn’t really get what I’m going through. He can’t understand the stuff with Ethan. Hell, I don’t even think he likes Ethan. I just ... I can’t talk to him about it. Not with Ethan. God, I love him, Mom, but—” her eyes and nose stung with tears. “I don’t know what to do. If Ethan’s telling me the truth then I want to be with him. I want to go to the game on Friday, but I’m so damn mad. So much has been going on, so much weirdness. The atmosphere at school. The deal at Abi’s last night. And then this ... I just don’t know what to do.”
She fell silent. Her words were absorbed by the carpet, the walls. The curtain stirred, maybe from the remnants of a breeze pushing in around the old window frame. Carly dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex. Swallowed hard.
When she looked up again, she saw a reflection of a dark figure behind her.
She caught her breath. Her eyes fixed on the shape in the mirror. Then she turned quickly.
A shadow of a human form stood in the doorway. The light from downstairs bled through the feminine shape. It possessed dimension, depth, but stirred like barely contained black smoke. Tendrils rose from it, spread out across the floor.
The light on her nightstand dimmed.
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