Sophie & Carter (6 page)

I’m driving out to the old mining caves.

It’s the one place that feels like our own. It’s empty of people and full of the sky. I can’t bring myself to take Sophie back home yet.

So I park in the dirt, lean over and silently kiss the top of Sophie’s sweet head. She’s crying and I’m helpless. I can’t take away any of the hard stuff she deals with. So I do the next best thing.

I get out of the truck, open her door, pull her out, and sit her on the back of the truck.

It’s what we used to do.

Before.

We sit on the back of my truck and stare at the stars. We haven’t been here for a long time.

There are no cigarettes, this time. Just more brokenness.

But there’s something else, too.

Love.

Not the kind you see in the movies or hear about on the radio.

The real kind.

The kind that gets beaten down and bloody, yet perseveres.

The kind that hopes even when hope seems foolish.

The kind that forgives. The kind that believes in healing.

The kind that can sit in silence and feel renewed.

The real kind of love.

It’s rare and we have it.

Our feet are dangling off the edge of the truck, as we look out into the darkness. Sophie sighs and leans against me.

She smells like apples and tears.

I let her finish crying before I speak. “Sorry about…tonight.”

She nods. “Me too.”

We wrap our hands together and don’t speak.

We sit like that for hours. Sophie leaning against me, breathing in softly, and me rubbing my thumb across her little hand. It’s a good ending to a bad day. It’s not a happy ending, but it’s good.

Someday I’ll make sure it’s happy.

The Littles are hyper on this Monday morning, excited for the end-of-school carnival later this week. I’m excited, too. Not for the carnival, but for the end of school. I’ll be done. I’ll be free to make a new life for all of us.

I’m running around like a frantic chicken, trying to get lunches and backpacks and breakfast done.

Carter couldn’t come over this morning. He called to say his mom had an episode and had shattered all of their glasses. He was busy combing the house for overlooked shards that could cut bare feet.

He’s a good guy.

I get everyone out the door, grab a mug full of hot coffee, and lock up.

The Littles all leave in their general directions as I walk up to Carter’s door. I open it and peek inside.

Carter’s on his hands and knees, squinting under the dining table. He sighs and I clear my throat.

He looks up, not surprised to see me.

“Morning, sunshine.” I say with a smile. It makes him smile back and I feel victorious.

“Morning,” he says.

“I brought you coffee.” I take it over to him as he stands up. It’s steaming hot. I put it in his favorite mug.

He looks down at the coffee, looks at me, and twitches his mouth.

I think he’s going to say something, but he’s interrupted by his mother’s shrill cry.

“Carter! The aliens are back! I need more glass! I need more glass!”

Carter looks defeated. “I’ll be right back.”

I stop him, “No, let me.”

He’s shaking his head, ready to argue.

So I put on my stubborn face and use my mom voice, “I know the game, Carter. I can do this. You sit down and drink your coffee. Pretend you’re a normal guy who reads the newspaper in the morning and actually likes the taste of black coffee.” I smile and hurry to the living room.

Mrs. Jax is crouched down in the corner, armed with a plastic vase.

“Hey, Mrs. Jax. Carter said you’re having a problem with aliens?” I say this sincerely. Mocking her does no good.

“Yes, yes. They’re everywhere and they want me!”

I nod and look around purposefully. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll tell Carter to get the glass, and in the meantime I’ll brush your hair, okay? Aliens hate hairbrushes, they won’t come near you.” I smile at her.

She nods and I’m flooded with relief. I find a hairbrush and begin to tame her wild hair.

“The aliens are real, you know,” she says.

“I know.”

“They’ve been in my head for years. Telling me lies.”

This makes me sad. In a way, I’m sure it’s true. “That’s awful. Can you tell them to leave you alone?”

Her hair softens in my hands.

“Oh, sure. But they don’t listen. They’re in there good, you know?”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Jax. That must be frustrating.”

“It is! I mean, I could kick them out, but then where would I be?”

I don’t know how to answer this so I say nothing.

Mrs. Jax continues, “I’d be back to the monster, that’s where. And I don’t ever want to see the monster again.”

She’s probably talking about some furry, orange thing that sleeps under her bed, but I respond as if she’s talking about Carter’s dad.

“He was a bad monster.” I say, and I want to cry for all the damage the monster did.

“Yes,” she says softly, “he was.”

“You’re a good woman, though, Mrs. Jax. That monster can’t get you now.”

Her hair is nearly finished.

She sighs and leans her head back into me. “The rabbits would like you.”

I smile and nod.

I’m staring at the coffee cup like it’s a foreign object. Sophie brought me coffee. It’s no big deal. But it is.

She loves me.

It’s not the coffee. Or the fact that she’s brushing my mom’s hair.

It’s not the notes she drops for me on the way home from school. Or the way she waits for me on the swing.

It’s all of those things.

And more.

Sophie walks into the kitchen and eyes me curiously. I look dumb because I’m standing there, staring at my coffee cup, not doing anything.

She smiles at me with her pretty face and my heart pumps faster.

She knows all about me. And still she loves me.

Moments pass between us without words.

“I love you.” I blurt out.

I didn’t mean to say it, but I don’t regret it. My face is hot and my hands are numb from all the blood rushing to my chest.

Her smile doesn’t falter, she’s looking right at me.

“I know,” she says.

And we stand like that, staring at each other, for countless seconds. The silence is heavy, but in a safe way. Sophie opens her mouth as if to respond but my mother’s voice cuts through our moment.

“Carter! I think there’s one in here!”

We break our gaze and I exhale. Slowly I say, “I gotta go check on her.”

Sophie nods and takes a step toward me. She puts her hand in mine and squeezes. Then she leaves.

I stretch my neck and silently walk into the living room to help my mother, my heart still pounding.

CARTER JAX LOVES ME. CARTER JAX LOVES ME. I know he loves me. And hearing him say it out loud makes my heart leap.

I walk to school, bouncing, because I can’t seem to keep my feet on the ground.

I didn’t say it back.

Why didn’t I say it back?

I love him. More than anything. Why didn’t I just tell him that?

I’m an idiot.

I’m an idiot with bouncing feet.

The school day drags on. It’s seriously the longest day in the history of school. I’m impatient to get out. I’m going to run home and…do what, exactly?

Pound on Carter’s door and declare my love?

No, I’ll wait until the swing. I’ll wait until we’re swinging away our troubles and then I’ll tell him.

School finally ends, and I hurry home. I do homework and make dinner and wait impatiently for bedtime. But it takes forever to get the Littles in bed.

Chloe’s asking for a drink of water every fifteen minutes, Abram’s whining about watching more TV and Michael’s throwing a fit about how he’s almost a ‘grown up’.

“Listen, Michael, if you’re referring to yourself as a ‘grown up’, then you’re still totally a kid. ‘Grown ups’ call themselves adults.”

My words are lost on Michael, so he storms into his room and shoves his earphones in.

I’m hurrying down the hall so I can get to the swing early when the phone rings. It’s Carter.

“Hey, Sophie.”

“Hey.” I know what he’s going to say. He only calls for one reason.

“My mom’s freaking out so I gotta stay here tonight….sorry.” He sounds sorry.

My heart falls because I had this great proclaim-my-love plan. “I’m sorry.” I say. What I want to say is ‘I love you’. But I don’t. Because I’m a coward. “Can I help you at all?”

I can hear him smile. “No. But thanks.”

We hang up and I feel lost. I pace around my house for an hour because my heart isn’t settled. Something’s wrong.

I’m wrong.

I feel…off.

I’m sad.

I’m sad because the boy next door loves me and he doesn’t know that I love him.

I try to calm myself down and come up with a plan to trot over there in the morning with ‘I love Carter Jax’ written on my forehead.

I turn out the lights and climb into my bed. My bed faces my window on purpose. I can see right into Carter’s room. I always leave my window open because it makes me feel closer to him.

It seems like hours before I see Carter enter his room. He stares at my window. He can’t see me, he doesn’t know I’m awake, but he’s staring anyway.

Because he loves me.

Eventually he turns out his light and collapses on his bed. I look at his darkened room for a long time before I realize I’m shaking.

My heart is pounding so hard I can see my chest hammering. Almost as if my heart is trying to reach across our yards and jump into Carter’s body.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.

My pulse picks up even more and I sit up, realizing my restless heart won’t make it through the night like this.

I get up and decide to sneak out of my house and tiptoe up to his window. I’ve seen this done on TV so I’m sure it’s easy.

Instead of using my front door like a normal, sane, non love-crazy person would, I decide to actually climb out of my bedroom window.

The execution is more difficult than my love-struck brain had imagined.

For starters, the window screeches like a howling animal as I open it up far enough to fit my body through. Not exactly the stealth maneuver I was hoping for.

And the four foot drop to the earth below would have been much more pleasant had I been wearing shoes.

Did I think through the wardrobe thing? Of course not. I was too busy trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest and thudding over to Carter’s room without my body.

So, no. I did not plan my sneaking-out outfit accordingly. Which is why I’m now standing, barefoot in the sticky mud beneath my window, wearing only a pair of gym shorts and a thin T-shirt with Snoopy on it.

The wind rustles through the big trees, momentarily deafening all sounds of the night, as I look across the yard to where Carter’s window sits shadowed in darkness. His room seems farther away than ever before for some reason and I start to panic.

Not because the darkness is frightening and the shadows are moving of their own accord. But because I cannot wait another minute to tell Carter I love him.

So I make my way through our yards while the wind whips at my face and reminds me to grab a jacket the next time I decide to play Ninja Girl in the night.

The grass and gravel in between our windows is wet and cold on my bare feet as I step through the night, but I don’t care. I’d walk on fiery coals if only to watch Carter sleep.

When I reach his window I notice it’s open all the way, just like mine. It’s probably been that way for years.

I’m not surprised.

But I’m moved.

We keep our windows open so we can hear each other, see each other, feel each other.

Because we love each other.

Thankfully, his window is low to the ground, making it easy for me to climb inside. The last thing I need right now is a short wall to scale and another noisy window. I quietly place my feet inside his bedroom and wait a moment for my eyes to adjust.

I see him sitting up in his bed.

He’s awake and, from the crooked smile on his face, not surprised to see me. Probably because my squeaking windowpane woke him up.

So much for my “sneaking” out.

I smile, mostly at myself for being so silly, but also because my heart is warm and happy now that I’m near Carter.

We don’t say anything for a minute, and the silence is broken only by the whispering wind coming in from the window.

I slowly crawl onto his bed, dirty feet and all, and scoot over to where he is. He looks at me curiously…apprehensively…but still I say nothing.

I’m so nervous and happy and anxious and in love.

It’s freaking me out—but in a good way.

I tuck my knees under me and look at him for a long time, which he let’s me do without question.

Finally I find my voice. “I love you too,” I say without breaking our gaze.

My heart flutters.

“I know.” He says, and he slowly smiles.

My heart flies.

My world has just become whole.