by Amber Garza
“I didn’t say it was stupid.” Carter shook his head, and for the first time since he’d arrived today I saw the old Carter surface. The one I had started to trust and befriend. “It makes sense to me that you would trust him if he was a friend of your parents.”
“Well, he wasn’t really their friend. I see that now.”
“Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty.”
“That’s true.” I grinned ruefully.
“You beat yourself up too much about this, Aspen. You know that none of this was your fault, right?”
A dog barked in the distance, and the wind chimes hanging from the porch trilled in the gentle breeze. But other than that, silence surrounded us. The country was quiet like that. Every once in awhile a car would pass by, but other than that all you heard was the sound of nature. Kurt lived in the city and the street was always noisy with vehicles on the road, people walking along the sidewalk, doors opening and closing.
I wanted to nod, but I wasn’t sure that Carter’s words were true. So I pressed my lips together and stared at him, my eyes narrowed. He dropped his pen, resting his open palm on the yellow notebook paper. “You were a child. He was an adult. It didn’t matter if you got in that car willingly or not. This was in no way your fault. You are the victim here. Don’t you understand that?”
“I guess.” I squirmed in my seat, unsure of why this was getting him so riled up.
There was a flash in his eyes, a determined flicker. He leaned forward, his forearms propped on his notebook. His gaze met mine. “You did what any child in your position would have done. That man who took you is a monster. He manipulated his way into your home and got your family to trust him. He’s a sick bastard. But there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Okay?”
This time I nodded, if for no other reason than to appease him. He seemed intent on getting me to agree.
He ran a hand through his hair and hissed through his teeth. “Sorry. I just get so angry when I think about what that man did to you.”
I sat back in my chair, the wood hard against my back. Chewing on my bottom lip, I studied Carter. So much about him still remained a mystery. Sometimes I felt like I was starting to understand him, but then he’d throw another curveball. This was one of those moments. When he first showed up today apologizing for almost kissing me I felt like I’d misread him all along. I felt like maybe he never wanted to be anything more than interviewer and interviewee; photographer and subject. Now I wasn’t so sure that was the case at all.
Carter shook his head and cleared his throat. Sitting up straight, he picked back up the pen and glanced down at the pad of paper. “Did your parents ever see him while you were missing?”
This was the part I always hated to think about. “Yes,” I whispered. It sickened me to know that he’d had the gall to show up at my parents’ house when he had me locked inside of his.
“Did they ever suspect him?”
“No.” I laughed bitterly. “He was charming and helpful. No one ever suspected him.”
“I bet that’s been hard for them.” His tone was sympathetic. “Knowing that he was right under their noses like that.” Usually when this topic came up it was in an accusatory way, but there was absolutely no judgment in Carter’s voice. Over the years people have loved to point out my parents’ mistake, as if they had overlooked something so obvious. But they didn’t need anyone to judge them. They’d beaten themselves up about it enough.
“It has been. Very. It’s why they’re so protective of me now.” I looked right at him, and his cheeks colored a little. I could tell he still felt guilty about what happened between us, and it bugged me. I didn’t want him to feel guilty. I wanted him to feel something else entirely.
“I understand that.” A knowing look crossed over Carter’s face, and it made me wonder again what he was hiding from me. What pain had he endured? “You’re lucky to have them.”
“Yeah, I know.” I looked over at the house. As I suspected, Mom’s face appeared in the window. Carter noticed her too. When she saw us staring, she quickly disappeared, the window vacant. “I have to remind myself of it sometimes though. I swear they treat me like I’m eight still.”
“In some ways you probably still are in their minds.”
“I think in a lot of ways.” I paused. “It doesn’t help that I’m still pretty immature and needy.”
“I don’t think you are,” he said with a smile. “Trust me, I’ve dated some pretty immature girls, and you’re not like them at all.”
It was the first time he’d mentioned his social life, and it caught me off guard. “You date a lot of girls?”
He blinked as if just realizing that we’d veered off course. His gaze immediately jumped back to the notebook paper, and my stomach knotted. This interview was wearing on me. “You know what? I think I’m done for today.” I stood up, my back to him.
“Oh.” From over my shoulder I heard the scrape of the chair on the deck as he stood up too. “Alright. Then I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother.” I scratched the back of my neck, unable to look at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You said you could get most of the information from newspaper articles and stuff. I don’t want to do this anymore. Just submit what you have to the magazine so we can be done with it.” I started walking toward the guesthouse, knowing that if I stayed near him any longer I’d lose my courage. “Then we can both move on with our lives.”
“Aspen.”
The way he said my name almost caused me to turn around. Almost. But I couldn’t. Clearly I meant nothing to him, and it was too hard. It had always been like this for me. No one had ever liked me for me. Not since the kidnapping. Now all anyone wanted me from me was details, information. I was nothing more than a girl to be used.
When I first escaped, I thought I could pick up my life where I’d left off. Namely with my best friend Katie. We’d been BFFs since kindergarten. We were inseparable. Our moms used to joke that we were more like sisters than friends. But when I saw her again she’d changed so much. She had all new friends, a new style, new likes and dislikes. I didn’t know her at all. But the worst part was that every time we got together all she did was pepper me with questions about the five years I was missing. I felt like I was on trial or something. When I confronted her about it, our friendship ended.
And that’s how it’s been with every attempt at friendship since. I fueled some deep morbid curiosity in people. Since my kidnapping I was no longer a person. I was a story.
But with Carter I had started to believe that things could be different. That maybe he was interested in me. Just me. That maybe he wanted to get to know who I was, not what I’d been through. And he wondered why I let the kidnapping rule my life. It was because that’s how everyone defined me. It was what I’d become.
“I never really liked flowers.” I froze when he spoke. “Not until I met you, anyway.”
I tried to catch the underlying meaning, but I was at a loss.
“What I’m trying to say is that what I said before wasn’t true. It had nothing to do with the scenery.”
It was the perfect thing to say, and I found my body swiveling as if by its own volition. “Then why did you say it?”
Leaving the notebook and pen on the chair, he hurried down the porch steps and met me on the grass in front of the guesthouse. “Because I shouldn’t have done it. You chose me to interview you because I didn’t make you uncomfortable, and then I blew it.”
“Is that what you think? That I pulled away because you made me uncomfortable?”
“Either that, or the idea of kissing me repulses you. Either way I am sorry, Aspen.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not what? Not repulsed by me?”
I giggled. “Definitely not repulsed. And I’m also not sorry you tried to kiss me.” Bending my head, I wondered if I could admit what I was feeling. “I don’t know how to do this, Carter.”
“Do what?”
He stepped closer.
“Any of this. I’ve never really had a relationship of any kind at all. No boyfriends. Not even a friend. Not since before I was taken.” I bit my lip. Well, other than Eve. Her face flashed in my mind – her wide eyes, pert mouth, and button nose. But I kept my mouth shut. I wouldn’t mention her. Besides, I was sure he already knew about her. No doubt he’d read about her in the papers, heard about her in the news. But this was not the time to discuss her. It would only serve to catapult me back to the past, and right now I wanted to stay here; to be in the present. “The point is that when you tried to kiss me I sort of froze. I didn’t know what to do.”
“I get it. I do.” His eyes softened. “And I shouldn’t have pushed you. It’s just that you looked so beautiful, so alive, so free. I couldn’t resist.”
“So you really were caught up in the moment?”
“I was caught up in you.” Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. “But I understand that you’re not ready for this right now, so I’ll back off.”
“No,” I said quickly, brows lifted in surprise. “Don’t back off. I like hanging out with you. I like having a friend. Maybe you could give me time?”
He reached up his hand, and with his fingers he brushed a tendril of hair from my face. His musky scent filled my senses. “Yeah. I can do that.”
TWELVE
Eve appeared out of nowhere.
I awoke one morning and there she was. She sat on the edge of the bed, so still I could have mistaken her for a doll. Only her eyes were filled with tears, and moisture stained her pale cheeks. At first I thought I’d finally gone crazy. That this place had caused me to crack. I thought she was nothing more than a figment of my imagination, an image I’d conjured up in my mind. So I blinked a few times and shook my head. But when I opened my eyes again she was still there. Cold dread sank into the pit of my stomach and I worried that I was having a crazy hallucination, like people have in the desert when they’re delirious. As if she was a lifelike mirage.
But then she moved. She reached her arm up and wiped a tear with her fingers. Then she shifted position on the bed, and it creaked beneath her. That was when I realized this couldn’t be fake. There really was a girl in the room.
“Who are you?” I asked, fearful.
“Eve,” Her voice wavered.
“When did you get here?”
“Last night.” A sob broke through the words.
I glanced over at the closed door. “He took you?”
She nodded, her body trembling. Her blond hair shook with each movement, her light eyes filled with terror.
As I stared at her, a thought struck me. “Are you his daughter?”
“No way.” She stood up, angered at my remark. “That monster is not my dad.”
I understood why the question upset her. I knew exactly how she felt.
Carter showed up in the morning with a baseball in his hand and two gloves tucked under the crook of his arm. He wore gym shorts and a t-shirt, a cocky gleam in his eyes. I asked him if we were interviewing today, and he said no. He told me that today was about fun. Today he would teach me to throw a baseball. Luckily I was in shorts and a t-shirt as well, although, that was more standard attire for me than for him.
“Why baseball?” I asked.
“Because it’s my sport. The one I played growing up.”
“Ah. So you were a jock in high school, huh?” I teased, but inside I was warm and happy. He was sharing another part of himself with me, and I liked it. It proved that he was after more than just my story.
“Guilty as charged.” He smiled, causing my insides to flip. That smile had the power to unravel me.
I may not have gone to high school, but I’d watched enough teen sitcoms to know what the jocks were like. It made me wonder what Carter had been like when he was younger. Would I have liked him if we had met then? If the TV shows were true indicators, I was guessing I wouldn’t have.
When Carter threw the baseball to me, I caught it in my glove on the first try. The truth was, that I had thrown a baseball before. I’ve never been a girly-girl. Ever since I was little I was more comfortable rolling around in the mud than wearing dresses and pigtails. My dad and I used to spend hours playing ball in the backyard before I was taken. That’s the real reason I mentioned sports as something I’d missed out on. Not because I didn’t know how to play, but because I never got the chance to be on a team. I always thought I’d play recreational sports. I was sure I’d be on many teams, and I assumed I’d play a sport for my high school too. But I never got that chance.
Still I didn’t say anything as Carter instructed me, explaining the game as we tossed the baseball in the backyard. I enjoyed listening to him talk about the sport he loved. His face lit up, his lips etched into a permanent smile. And I have to admit, I enjoyed watching his arm flex as he threw the ball in my direction. Now I saw where he got his muscles from. I thought they seemed pretty well defined from only holding a camera.
I took a step forward, my feet skidding in a wet spot on the grass. Carter was wearing tennis shoes, but my feet were bare. It was what I preferred, so I could feel the cool grass between my toes.
When I tossed the baseball back in his direction, he caught it in his glove. “Nice throw. You’re a quick learner.”
My heart leapt from the compliment. His face contorted, and he glanced down at his shorts. “Hold on a minute.” After dropping the baseball on the ground, he peeled off his glove and then shoved his fingers into the pocket of his shorts to yank out a cell phone. His lips curved downward into a frown when his gaze connected with the screen. “I’ve gotta take this.”
I nodded as he pressed the phone to his ear and turned away from me. A few years ago my parents offered to buy me a smartphone. They both have one, and they wanted to put me on some family plan with them. I remembered laughing and saying something like, “Who would I call? You guys? And where would I call from? The backyard?” They took the hint and never brought up a phone again. However, now I kind of wished I had one. If so, I could talk to Carter away from my parents’ prying eyes and perked ears. Perhaps this meant I was finally growing up.
“Okay, okay. I get it,” Carter’s voice rose, his tone insistent. He moved to the corner of the yard, his back still to me, his shoulders visibly tense.
What was going on? I inched a little closer, careful not to make a sound. It was something I was good at, moving without being heard. I’d perfected it while in captivity. I hated arousing Kurt’s attention in any way, so I always moved about stealthily, quietly. Like an invisible girl.
“I’m doing the best I can.” I couldn’t see his face, but I imagined his teeth were gritted by the sound of his voice. “These things take time. You can’t force it.”
My stomach knotted. What things?
“Fine. You’re in charge. Whatever you say.” It didn’t sound like he was happy about this person being in charge. Not one bit. “I’m on it.” He lowered the phone from his ear, and I hopped back to where I’d been standing when he got the call.
“Everything alright?” I asked in an innocent voice. Another thing I was good at. With Kurt, innocence and sweetness went a long way. It was the only way to avoid his wrath.
“Yeah.” He breathed out, running a hand over his head. “It’s fine.” After shoving the phone back into his pocket, he slid his hand into the glove. Then he leaned down and plucked the baseball out of the grass. The smile returned to his face, erasing all traces of his earlier mood shift. “Now where were we?”
His transition from irritated to nonchalant was smooth, effortless. It reminded me of Kurt. Of the many masks he wore. Of how easily he could change faces, transform who he was. As if life were a masquerade ball. As if costumes weren’t reserved for Halloween. It made me wonder how well I knew Carter.
Before I could offer a response, he chucked the baseball toward me. Only this time I wasn’t ready, and the ball smacked me in the shoulder. It all happened in slow motion. I knew the ball was c
oming at me, but my reaction time was too slow. I was lost in my own thoughts, my head spinning with uncertainty. If only Kurt hadn’t shaped my thinking so much. If only I didn’t compare every person I met to him.
If only there was a way to get him out of my head, eradicated from my mind.
I’d read stories of people who had repressed memories of traumatic experiences. They made it sound like it was a terrible thing; like they wished they could have their memories back. But I didn’t think it sounded bad at all. No, I would welcome it with open arms. I’d give anything to have repressed the memories of Kurt and that time in his home. I’d gladly lock away that part of my memory bank. Then I’d chuck the key in the nearest lake, allow it to sink into the murky depths of the water never to be seen again. Too bad it didn’t work like that.
“Aspen, are you okay?” Carter hurried toward me, abandoning his glove on the ground. It nestled in the ground, encased in the thick green reeds of grass.
I was fine. More embarrassed than anything. The ball didn’t really hurt when it hit my shoulder. Carter hadn’t thrown it that hard.
When he reached me, he slid his fingers up my arm, pushing my shirt up over my shoulder. The pads of his fingers skated along the surface of my skin. “Your skin’s red. I’m so sorry.”
I wanted to tell him I was fine. Not hurt at all. But that would mean he’d stop touching me, so I pressed my lips together and said nothing. I wasn’t one of those needy girls who couldn’t handle a sports injury. But if acting like one would elicit this kind of attention from Carter, I could be one just for today.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, it’s not. I wasn’t focused when I threw the ball. My mind was somewhere else.” I noticed he didn’t say where his mind was. Clearly it had to do with the phone call, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to share the details with me. He traced the redness on my shoulder with his fingertips as if he were a blind man reading braille. A chill skittered down my spine as goosebumps arose on my flesh. Carter’s warm breath fanned over my skin. I smelled a mixture of soap and cologne that caused my heart to quicken. He was so close that if I reached up I could touch his face. I could run my fingertips over his smooth face, devoid of stubble. Unsure of why I was even entertaining the thought, I kept my arms pinned to my sides. “Does it hurt?”
