Freeing Carter(23)
Author: Nyrae Dawn

"Carter!" Someone grabs onto my arm, pulling me away from Kira. It’s Patrice. Her eyes are wide with worry. "I need your help. Travis is sick. He’s in the bathroom. I think he’s throwing."

Automatically, I take off for the bathroom. The door slams against the wall as I storm in. Travis is laying in one of the stalls, puke all over his suit and his head in the toilet.

Suddenly, he’s not Travis anymore. I see Mom. Hear Mom. "Sowwy, Carter."

I shake the thoughts from my head, making my way to Travis. "Hey… You okay?" And finally! We have a winner for the stupidest thing Carter has said tonight!

"Peachy," Travis says before he starts up-chucking again. I want to puke, too. I hate the smell. The sound. It’s worse than nails on a chalkboard. Worse than anything.

"We gotta get you out of here before someone sees you," I tell him. "I’ll be right back." Nausea battles my insides, but I push it aside, before opening the bathroom door. Kira and Patrice are waiting outside.

"Some people tried to come in. I told them it’s broken. We need to figure something out." Kira touches my arm. And now I know. I know what she is. She’s more than awesome. She’s the girl I love, because that little touch, it somehow helps.

"Here." I hand her my keys. "Can you pull my truck around back?" I point down the hall. "Then bring my gym bag in for me?"

She grabs the keys with no question and starts for the door. "Don’t let anyone in here." Patrice nods at me and then I’m gone, heading to the stall to check on Travis again. He’s throwing up again, splashes of vomit hitting the inside of the toilet. I fight the urge to throw up myself. I don’t have time. Right now, I have to make sure no one catches him. I can’t let Travis loose basketball or get kicked out of school.

Pulling some tissue off the roll, he wipes his mouth, still kneeling by the toilet. We’re quiet for a couple minutes. Kira should be back any second. I am about to go check when Travis speaks.

"Dude. I am so f**ked up," he says. It’s then I notice the flask on the floor.

Hold it together, Shaw. "Are you done? Kira’s getting you clothes. You can change and we’ll sneak you out." There’s no emotion in my voice even though I feel like it’s spilling out of me from everywhere.

He nods his head. At the same time, the bathroom door creaks and I freeze.

"Carter? It’s me." I relax at the sound of Kira’s voice. Man, she was fast. I run back over to her and grab the bag, my eyes catching hers, trying to tell her thank you. I’m pretty sure the small smile she gives me is telling me it’s okay.

Back in the bathroom, I’m stuffing Travis’s disgusting clothes into my bag as he’s putting on my basketball shorts and a t-shirt. It takes him a couple minutes, stumbling around before he gets them on. The whole time I’m seeing Mom. Remembering my feet getting tangled in hers as I carried her up the stairs.

"Come on." My voice is tight, as tight as my body as I help him to the door.

"Carter, let me help him." Kira reaches for him when we get out the door. "It will look weird if someone sees the two of you together."

My stomach drops to my feet, but I know she’s right. My teeth grind together as she puts her arm around Travis’s waist, holding him close. His arm goes around her neck, the way mine would, the only difference is I’d let her lean on me instead of the other way around.

Patrice is looking around, nervous. Her eyes scanning the halls. They’re as red as his are. I have to bite my tongue not to yell at her. How could she let him get this f**king drunk? But is it really her fault? I should have seen it. Talked to him. I know the signs. What to look for. Besides, she’s been drinking, too.

My whole body is stiff as we walk down the hall, away from the dance. Kira is holding Travis. Travis is holding Kira. She shouldn’t have to do this. Shouldn’t have to carry my drunk friend into the parking lot.

It’s as though there’s no music. All I hear is my heart and our footsteps. We have to make it out of here. Have to.

A group of girls walk out of the bathroom. Their laughter stops when they see us. Their eyes are on Kira and Travis then me. They know we’re together, everyone does, so they have to be wondering why my girl is walking with her arms around my best friend.

Please, don’t say anything. Please don’t say anything. They keep watching us, my heart hammering like crazy. When we pass them I keep going, just needing to get him outside and out of here.

As soon as we step outside, the burning in my lungs stops. My breath runs free for the first time in who knows how long.

"What are we going to do?" Kira asks. I take Travis from her, and put him in my truck. He passes out the second he hits the seat.

"I can’t bring him home. His mom will freak."

"What about me? Can someone bring me home?" Patrice asks.

"Shit." I lean against my truck. One night. We’d wanted one night with nothing bad and this is what we get. "I don’t know if I can sneak him in my house, either." And I’m scared. What if Mom catches us? Smells the alcohol. She’s been so good. What if it lures her? Makes her want it again?

"Lana’s at work tonight. She went in after the dance. We can bring him to my house."

My eyes catch hers. "No. No way. You shouldn’t have to deal with him."

"I really need to get home," Patrice breaks in again.

"Then you should have thought of that before you guys got trashed,” Kira says. Then to me, “Carter, it’s okay. We don’t really have much of a choice."

She’s right. I know it, but I hate it, too. "Here." I reach into the bag, pulling Travis’s keys out of his suit. "Can you take Patrice home? Then meet me at your house? We can talk there."

Kira nods her head and turns to walk away, but I pull her to me instead. My hand cups her cheek. My forehead touching hers. "Thanks."

"It’ll be fine. Everything will be fine," she tells me, and then she and Patrice are gone.

Chapter Sixteen

Travis is passed out in Kira’s bed. In her bed. I’ve never even been in it and though I know this is a screwed up situation, that I would never want to be in her bed like drunk off my ass, I’m jealous. So angry that I want to wake up my best friend just to kick his ass. To knock some sense into him.

"I don’t want to leave him with you. It doesn’t feel right. It’s not your responsibility, but I’m pretty sure I can’t stay out all night. Mom will never believe me if I tell her I’m going to Travis’s tonight." Not after our conversation this afternoon.

"It’s not your responsibility, either." Her hair is down now. She’s wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats, home early from our dance. Nice. "Nothing’s going to happen. He’s asleep. He’ll stay asleep. I’ll watch him. Hide him when Lana gets home, and kick his hung-over ass out when she takes her nap. It’ll be fine," she says again.

I turn away from her, leaning my hands on her desk. I see Travis’s reflection in the mirror in front of me. I’m pissed at myself. Pissed at Travis. Mom, Grandpa. Dad for dying. I’m pissed at everyone right now. Kira steps up behind me, her darker arms wrapping around me from behind. Now it’s only our reflection I see. Her eyes. Her smooth, brown skin, blending and mixing with mine as she twines herself around me. "Oh! I have an idea."

I can’t help it. I chuckle. How is it she always has an idea. That she can always sound so excited about whatever it is. "What’s that?"

"I used to have this best friend in LA. Her name was Misty. Whenever we wanted to hang out, but couldn’t, we’d have phone slumber parties."

"Huh?" Texting I’m good with. I used to hate it when Mel would keep me on the phone for hours and a phone slumber party sounds awful girly.

"Don’t look at me like that!" She swats me. "It’s fun. Call me when you get home and we can talk all night. Talk till one of us falls asleep and it’ll be just like we’re together."

"Okay," I hear myself say, and amazingly, I don’t hate the idea of talking to her on the phone all night. I look around her room again. There’s neon green, round chair under the window. Flowers painted on the walls. Flowers I’m pretty sure she drew and painted herself. It’s so her.

"Thank you. You’re…"

"Awesome," she answers for me. "I know."

I make my way home as fast as I can. The lights are off, which doesn’t surprise me. I keep them off as I make my way up the stairs, Sara’s hall nightlight makes it so I can see. Her door is cracked open so I peek in. Mom is in bed with her. Sara must have had one of her nightmares. It’s the only time Mom sleeps with her.

"Hey," she whispers, looking at me from Sara’s bed. Both eyes take me in. Not one, trying to even her vision. Her voice sounds normal and some of the nausea leaves me. I didn’t realize I was freaked she’d be drinking again until I see that she isn’t.

"Hey."

"Did you have fun?" Mom asks.

No. "Yeah."

"Good. I’m glad. You deserve it. I want to hear all about it in the morning, okay?"

I nod, even though the words, ‘not likely’ are swimming in my head. "Night, Ma. I love you."

"I love you too, Carter."

I pull the door closed and then head for my room, before stopping. I don’t know what makes me do it. Why I can’t just leave stuff alone, but after one quick glance to make sure Sara’s door is closed, I slip into Mom’s room. My feet carry me straight to the closet. To the box, where I lift my baby blankets. A bottle sits inside. It’s closed. Never been open and full, but it’s still here. My hands itch to pick it up. To slam it against the wall and break it. Instead, I slip it back, close the door and go back to my room. I should take it. I don’t know why I don’t. It’s like I can’t make myself go there. I can’t grow the hell up and do what needs to be done.

It’s full though. That means she’s not drinking. It could have been there for weeks. Since before. Maybe she even forgot it was there.

The suit hits the floor as I drop in bed in my boxers. I didn’t get my night tonight and so I’m going to try and salvage some of it now. I’m tired of worrying about everyone else. I’m not going to think about that unopened bottle. I have a date with my girl, and I want to enjoy it. Picking up the phone, I dial.

Kira picks up on the first ring. "So what are you wearing?" I tease. She laughs.

Finally, it’s just us.

***

It’s hard to look at Travis the same way when we see each other at school. The guy inside me without an alcoholic for a Mom knows it shouldn’t be this weird. I mean, I hate what happened, but it’s not like half the people in my school haven’t been drunk before. A lot of them have probably puked before, too. It doesn’t make them alcoholics. Travis is just trying to deal, just like Mom.

Still, things are different, even though it makes me a jerk for feeling that way. I need to talk to him about his parents. Help him get his head on straight and see what we saw that night, but right now, I can’t. I’m tired. So tired of dealing with people who can’t hold their shit together. If I can’t lose it, why does everyone else get to?

Especially right now.

"Mom?" It’s been a week since the dance. I sneak in her room every day and the bottle it still there. I know it’s stupid, but I even made a little mark in the label so I’d know if it was a different one. It’s still untouched. I don’t know if I should be happy or upset about that. I hate that it’s there, but glad that it’s still there at the same time.