Sophie & Carter (7 page)

I’ve never been happier in my whole life. Sophie Hartman loves me.

I don’t know what to do.

Do I kiss her?

Can I kiss her?

This is Sophie. She’s the most important person in my life. I can’t screw this up.

So I reach over and take her hand in mine.

She smiles.

I look at our intertwined hands and warmth floods my heart. I lift her hand to my mouth and start to place soft kisses on her perfect, unscarred knuckles.

She’s watching me, probably thinking I’m a moron.

Which I am.

But then she pulls her hand away from mine and a part of me dies.

I feel like I can’t breathe and I’m pretty sure my heart has stopped.

But she smiles again.

“Carter,” she says, and I hold my breath. “Please can I just…” She looks at me intently and purses her lips.

She’s the most wonderful sight I’ve ever seen.

Then she kisses me. Not the big, sloppy kind of kiss you see in the movies.

No, she presses her lips to my eyebrow—the one with the scar from a beer bottle.

Next she kisses the edge of my jaw—the one that was so swollen in the sixth grade that I could only eat liquids.

Then the bridge of my nose—broken more times than I can count.

Then my chin—a steel-toed boot left that scar.

She just keeps kissing my scars. Every scar. She knows them all. She watched them all appear and heal.

“I never...” she says between kisses, “got to kiss your hurt away…” another kiss, “when we were little…” her lips move to my forehead, “and I always wanted to.”

I might die of happiness.

Her lips move down to the corner of my mouth. The man who is my father split the crease open with a steak knife one night because he wanted to see me smile. It left a permanent white scar.

Her lips touch it gently.

Sophie’s lips against me make every punch, every kick, every wound, every scar worth it.

She pulls away from the corner of my mouth slightly and I’m perfectly still. Afraid if I move I’ll wake up.

Her breaths are caressing my lips, my breaths are ragged and hot. She tilts her head to the side and looks at my mouth.

Then I kiss her.

In this moment, everything bad, everything painful, everything unfair disappears. It’s just me and Sophie. Connected.

And I’ve never felt so whole.

Three days later I’m sitting amongst my fellow classmates, all of us dressed in shiny robes, waiting to be called to the large podium set up under the basketball hoop in the gym.

Graduation day is here.

Other seniors seated around me are whispering and buzzing with excitement. Mr. Westley is trying, unsuccessfully, to gain the attention of the restless crowd and carry out a speech about ‘seizing the day’ and ‘carving your own path’ and ‘chasing your dreams’.

The only dream I want to chase right now is the dream of getting out of this thick and heavy robe. My T-shirt and shorts underneath are sticking to my skin. And my skin feels muggy and trapped beneath the suffocating material of the robe.

I really, really dislike the graduation gown.

The gym is filled with people, making the vaulted room hot and stuffy. Parents, siblings and other miscellaneous family members line the walls and fill the bleachers. It’s a pivotal day for most people.

Students around me are waving at loved ones in the crowd. Loved ones who’ve come to witness the oh-so-significant day of graduation.

There are no loved ones smiling down on me, however.

The Littles are in school and my mother (who is no longer my mother) probably doesn’t even know what year it is, let alone the fact that her eldest child is graduating high school today.

I’m not saddened by this. Just aware.

I look down the row of classmates seated next to me. Fifteen chairs away is Carter, stretching his neck and apathetically watching Mr. Westley. He has no family members here for him either.

But he has me.

I look at his handsome face and tilt my head. He looks like a man today.

Not because of the robe—definitely not the robe. But because his face is filled with confidence and strength. And today he looks…content.

And contentment looks good on him.

He looks down the row and our eyes meet. He smiles without hesitation, and my face smiles back like a giddy schoolgirl.

I love his guts.

The ceremony continues. Names are called. Diplomas are handed out and there is much rejoicing in the land…or whatever.

When the last name is called everyone throws their graduation cap into the air and cheers.

Well, almost everyone.

Carter and I spy one another and make our way toward each other.

Around us, proud parents are snapping pictures of their graduates and adorning them with flowers and hugs. The chaos is joyful and filled with hope and power. I’m happy for everyone around me. I’m slightly jealous of their faith in the future, but I genuinely want them to ‘seize the day’, or whatever.

I reach Carter’s side and look up into his face. He smiles at me and tries to shove his hands in his pockets. The glossy robe is in his way, however, and his hands slide down its sleek fabric.

I laugh softly, “The robes suck.”

“Yep,” he smiles at me, “they do.”

“Wanna ditch them?” I ask, half-joking, but he takes me up on it and unzips his, revealing faded jeans and a thin white T-shirt underneath.

I laugh again as I take my robe off as well and finally allow my skin and clothes to breathe. We drop our gowns on the gym floor, leave them there, and start walking toward the exit.

Carter breathes in deep. “So…we graduated.”

I nod, “Yep.”

“You feel any different?”

I look at him from the side, “Yeah…” my eyes fall to his lips, “But not because we graduated.”

He eyes me as well. “Me too.”

We keep walking.

Then, right in the middle of all our classmates—in the center of the crowded gym where teachers and parents and Whitneys and Evans are milling around—Carter reaches for my hand and holds it like it belongs to him.

And it does.

I smile as we walk out of our graduation ceremony, connected.

I did something sort of cheesy this morning, before graduation. I hope Sophie likes it. She might think it’s stupid, but I don’t care. I’m crazy about her, and crazy people do crazy things.

We’re walking, hand-in-hand, down the sidewalk toward our houses as the breeze blows. Sophie’s teasing me about this-and-that as we chat about high school and teachers and subjects we hope we never have to study again. It’s normal.

It’s wonderful.

My walk home from school has never been so…happy.

We reach our houses and pause, hands still interlaced.

“Okay,” I say, and of course, I sound like a moron, “I have a surprise for you…kinda. I mean, it’s no big deal…I just…here, follow me, I want to show you something….”

Yep, total moron.

But Sophie just smiles and plays along. She lets me lead her between our houses, through the yards, and out into the back, where the Big Oak stands guard over our homes and secrets.

Underneath the Big Oak, I’ve laid out a big blanket and set up a picnic.

It’s totally cheesy. And I’m sure Sophie’s going to laugh at me.

But she doesn’t. Not at first, anyway.

At first she just looks at me, tilts her head to the side and smiles. Then she laughs. But not in a teasing way, in a happy way.

“I love it, I love it, I love it!” Sophie’s bouncing up and down and I feel victorious so I laugh right along with her.

We sit down and eat while we talk and sigh and laugh and sit in comfortable silence. When the food is gone and the sun is passing above us, we lay down, side-by-side on our backs, staring up at oak leafs and the sky.

Just like we did when we were little.

Except it’s different now.

It’s better.

Sophie’s hand reaches across the blanket and wraps itself around mine.

We lay like that, staring up at the blue sky and the dancing leaves, for what seems like hours. We’ve never been to the Big Oak in the daytime before. Something about it is…promising.

For whatever reason it seems like today, this moment, underneath the Big Oak and the blue sky, is the beginning of something new and forever.

Sophie takes a deep breath and exhales slowly with a smile. “This is way better than running away to Hollywood.”

I laugh. “Totally.”

I squeeze her hand to remind myself that I’m not dreaming. I love Sophie Hartman, and it doesn’t scare me at all.

Two days later, the dull morning sun falls quietly upon the blackened remains of Carter’s kitchen.

Our graduation picnic seems like an eternity ago.

I’m sitting cross-legged on the damaged kitchen floor praying the sound of my thudding heart doesn’t disturb the silence I know he needs right now.

Carter’s sitting next to me, staring off into nothing, and I feel completely useless.

I don’t know what to do so I scoot closer to him.

A minute goes by.

I tuck my hair behind my ear as I scoot even closer.

Another minute passes and the room feels cold.

I wiggle closer still until our knees are touching.

Much better.

I take a deep breath and wait out the silence.

On graduation night my mom lit the kitchen on fire.

After Sophie and I finished our picnic we took her siblings to the school carnival. While we were there I got a phone call from the police and rushed to the hospital to find my mom with burn marks all over her body and stitches in her head.

She burned down two walls of our kitchen and shattered the kitchen window by throwing herself against it in a delusional rage.

She’s bandaged and bruised, but she’ll be okay.

Physically, at least.

The doctors insisted she be transferred to a mental healthcare hospital, undergo psychiatric evaluation, and be admitted as a resident….

Indefinitely.

The social workers were there also, assuring me she’d be happier and safer under the care of the state. I nodded because they wanted me to, but my stomach felt hollow.

I had no words or fight left inside me.

My mom seemed excited by the idea of leaving. Even yesterday, when they loaded her into the state van, she didn’t look afraid. She smiled like she was going on a tropical vacation.

I didn’t cry, but my heart hurt.

This is what the doctors have been saying would happen for years.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I should be happy she’s finally surrounded by skilled individuals who can give her the kind of care she really needs.

I should feel good about this.

I should feel relieved.

But instead I feel…numb.

I’ve been sitting on the floor of my burned kitchen for three hours. In silence.

Not mourning.

Not wallowing.

Just…shocked.

It’s heavy in here.

Sophie’s sitting next me, though, helping to shoulder the weight. She hasn’t said a word all morning. She doesn’t need to.

I should be sad and full of despair. I should be black inside and empty. But I’m not.

There’s no darkness inside me. Because Sophie is here.

And I can feel her goodness seeping into me.

It’s rolling across the glass-littered floor and floating up the charred walls. It’s drifting through the stale smoke and settling on my back, wrapping me in hope.

Hope for a new life, a new beginning.

For both me and my mother.

Hope for the future and gratefulness for what I have now.

Like Sophie.

“I love you.” I say, not looking at her.

“I know.” She shifts a little, her small knee brushing against mine. “I love you too.”

I slowly smile and it feels real. I’m okay.

I’m going to be okay.

We both are.

“I know,” I say and I reach out until my hand finds hers.

We sit in silence for who knows how long, just like that.

Knee-to-knee.

Hand-in-hand.

I hear Michael, Abram and Chloe’s laughter coming from next door. They’re messing around; oblivious, happy.

I smile again. Because I know we’re all going to be okay.

Today…tomorrow. Every day.

I turn to Sophie, stare at her for a minute, and slowly ask, “Wanna just…get away? Start over?”

She looks at me and slowly smiles.

“Totally.”

The heaviness in the room slowly lifts, filling the kitchen—and my chest—with…hope.

We’ll be okay, me and Carter. We don’t really have a plan but I know we’ll be okay anyway.

Because we have his beat up truck, three thousand dollars and the Littles all packed up.

And we have love.

The real kind.

We’re gonna go somewhere. Somewhere far away from the hurt, but close enough to visit Mrs. Jax .

Me, Carter, and the Littles.

We’ll be poor and have to work hard, and we’ll probably fight and want to give up. But at the end of the day, we’ll still have each other, and that’s all we need.

The Littles pile into the backseat of Carter’s truck and buckle themselves in while I hop into the passenger seat and take a deep breath. The good kind of breath. The kind that fills you with hope and peace.

Carter jumps in and starts the engine. He’s handsome today.

He’s handsome everyday, but today he is my hero, so he’s extra handsome.

He looks at me and smiles. A real smile. The kind of smile I’ve rarely seen over the years. I hope our new life brings him more of those smiles.

He grabs my hand, kisses it briefly, and smiles back at the Littles, “Ready for an adventure?”

Chloe shouts, “Yes! Whoo-hoo!” while the boys nod and try not to grin. They’re happy.

We’re all happy.

Carter pulls out of the drive and I feel free.

Yeah, we won’t have much as we start this new life.

But we’ll have us.

We’ll have love.

We’ll have family….

I look in the back of the truck at all the stuff we’ve packed up, one thing in particular catching my eye.

…And we’ll have the old porch swing. How can we be anything but happy with all that?

I breathe in deep, smell the ocean, and smile bigger than I ever have before as we drive away from Penrose Street.

Carter Jax has already made all my dreams come true.

And it’s only the beginning.