Page 50 of From the Ashes
A smile.
A fucking smile.
It was just instinct. I didn’t even try, it just…surfaced. I thought I’d buried that part, that nothing in my dark world would ever make me smile again. But this kid… Damn. She releases me, steps back, and gazes at me with the calm warmth of finally coming in from the cold. Lana feels like coming home after a long day. I study her face, but there’s no hate, anger, or frustration.
“I…” I try, but the words don’t form in my head like I’d just been struck by lightning. So I leave, because I can’t deal with this now, I just can’t. I head to my bike, turning my back on her, and I ride, I ride until I can’t feel the drops of water from the cyclone inside my head. I ride until I can no longer hear the pounding of regrets against my skull.
LANA
He left.
And the look in his eyes when he did broke something in me. After coming to rescue me, he just left, like it was too much, like me, my son, our home was outside his comfort zone, outside of what he could handle. I sigh and sink into my couch, the colorful pillows surrounding me as I take in all my plants, little knick-knacks, and rocks Noah has given me after our weekly walks. Perhaps this is it. It’ll always just be Noah and me. Although I thought it’d be enough, somehow the picture lacks something to be finished. Or someone.
“Mommy, can we eat now, please?” asks Noah, making two plastic figurines fight each other.
“Of course, honey, let me reheat your plate,” I tell him as I stand up and pass the sink where Carter and I first kissed.
“Your friend was huge, Mommy.” Noah settles on the chair by himself while I stir the food.
“Yes, he is. He’s very strong.”
“Why did he go? I wanted to show him my toys.”
“He…” I stutter, my son eyeing me without comprehending the monumental moment that happened tonight. And yet, all I can think about is that he does not ask about why his father left. He felt good around Carter. Just like me. And he wanted him to stay.
Just like me.
"He forgot he had something to fix at his place, so he had to head back to take care of it. But he’ll be back once it’s done." I smile at him, realizing with a sudden clarity that this was it, Carter was just overwhelmed. It had nothing to do with us. And deep down, I know, just as I felt when we first met and despite my past still lingering at my door, he's not the type to take the easy way out. He had every reason to walk away from me, yet he didn’t. And I won’t either. I’ll wait for him, because if there’s one thing I’m sure of tonight, it’s that he’s the missing piece of my puzzle.
He’s the one who makes it whole.
And I’m ready to wait until he’s ready for us.
14
CARTER
THIRTEEN YEARS AGO
“Keep your eyes open, Son,”my dad says, and I do, my head pounding in pain as I try to touch my forehead with my hand, but when I look down, I notice my whole body has been chained to a chair. The one in the kitchen. I try to move, but my hands and ankles are tightened and I can’t escape. I’m only twelve, I’m no superhero with big powers. I should ask Dad to remove them.
“Dad, can’t you remove the chains? I'm stuck.” What is he doing? Why is Mom laying here with Emma and Beth in their pajamas? They should be in their bed. Emma hates it when she wakes up at night and doesn't have her bear. I should go pick him up for her.
“There’s something wrong with them, look, how come you can’t see it too, Son?” Says my father, his shirt open and his pants weirdly put as if the belt wasn't really holding them up anymore. He’s walking strangely slow and unsteady. And why can’t I move?
“Dad, please, just let me go,” I plead, but his laugh is the only answer I get.
“You’ll sit there and watch Carter. And if you don’t, if I see you close your eyes, I’ll make sure to make it last even longer.”He smirks and even from the eyes of a twelve-year-old who didn’t live enough to know the full extent of what madness can do, I know something bad is going to happen. Dad has always been mean, but this, this doesn’t sound good at all.
“Dad, what are you doing? Just stop, help me remove this and we’ll help them go back to bed,” I whine, but my father is staring at the three bodies, his tongue licking his lower lip. I know Dad has been hurting Mom for a while. I heard Beth talking about it in the kitchen one night with Mom. She asked her to let us go somewhere else. That it wasn’t safe for us here anymore. But I was so tired that day from the afternoon of soccer with Brian and Maxim that I just went to bed and forgot about it. Mom knows what’s best for me, Emma, and Beth. She’s the best mom, and I love her the size of the moon. No, I love her the size of the universe multiplied by infinity.
“Mom! Mom!” I shout, hoping she will wake up. Confirm to me that this is just a bad dream, one of those where she gives me a mug of hot chocolate and a kiss, and it makes everything better afterwards. I keep on shouting, then I call for my sisters, but they don’t move. Their heads just sway from side to side, slowly, and I notice a strange scent. Like the one in the car after I was carsick last summer. My father mounts the bed and all that happens from that second changes the trajectory of my life. I watch him, eyes wide, crying my heart out as I witness him with my child's eyes commit the worst things that can happen to the people I love. I’m young, but even I know that this is wrong. So wrong. And once he’s done with the three of them, he takes out the gun he kept on his side of the bed and raises it to the bed.
“NO! NO!” I scream, but it’s too late.
BANG.
BANG.
