02. Strangers

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C H A P T E R    T W O

STRANGERS

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Early the next morning, I was awoken by the rattling sound of my cell phone vibrating on my nightstand. I groggily lifted my head from the pillow my face had been buried in and reached for my phone. A photograph of Moira Queen, Oliver's mother, filled the screen and I didn't waste a moment answering the phone, instantly awake. I bolted up and shoved my messy hair out of my face.

"Moira?" I answered the phone, anticipating updates regarding Oliver. I hadn't spoken to her since shortly after I relocated to California and I probably would have forgotten what her voice sounded like if it wasn't for the fact that I had known her since I was a kid. I was yet to speak to her about Ollie and since we had gone so long with no communication, I feared the worst when she called me with no warning.

"Karter, it's so good to hear your voice." Moira said softly on the other line. There was a certain weight to her voice, which was understandable. I was still reeling from the new information. I couldn't imagine what it was like for her as Oliver's mother, as well as Robert's wife. Oliver's father was undoubtedly confirmed as deceased by Oliver and any glimmer of hope Moira might have been clinging onto that Robert was alive was erased. She may have gotten her son back, but an entire wave of emotions and grief resurfaced with the memory of Robert's death. "Oliver is alive. He's alive!"

"I know, I saw it on the news. Is he okay?" I wondered.

"He was found by some fishermen on an island called Lain Yu. He was stranded there the entire time. Five years my baby boy was alone on an island!" Moira cried, clearly distraught.

"He's coming home soon, right? Once the hospital clears him, he's heading home?" I asked to confirm and Moira gave a heavy sigh.

"Yes, but they're releasing him later than we expected. The doctors say there are... extenuating circumstances."

"Extenuating circumstances? What does that mean?" I wondered. My mind pieced together that it probably had something to do with his psychological assessments. What had Oliver gone through? Had it so drastically changed him forever?

"The doctor said twenty percent of his body is scar tissue." Moira said with a pained tone and tears bit at the corners of my eyes.

"What?" My mind filled with horrific images that could explain this: terrain accidents, animal attacks... each theory my mind concocted was worse than the last. "Twenty percent?" I repeated, not for clarification from Moira, like I thought I had heard her wrong, but to process the information myself. The Oliver I knew rarely even had a callus on his hand, and now Moira was telling me that twenty percent of his body, twenty percent of him, had been damaged and hastily repaired with no medical attention, no medicine, and no one to be there for him.

"He has second degree burns on his back and arms and his x-rays show at least twelve fractures that never healed properly." Moira continued. I was choking back tears by now as I clamped my hand over my mouth.

"Oh my God." was all I could choke out.

"Karter, I don't know if Oliver will be my son anymore." Her voice was weak and anemic, like she could barely get the words out.

"He'll still be your son, Moira." I blindly assured her. I wasn't sure whether or not I was lying. I had known the person Oliver was better than anyone else, but that was a boat crash, a hundred injuries, and five years of isolation ago. I didn't know who Oliver was going to be when he left that hospital.

"Please come home. Even if you don't stay for good, just please, please be here when Oliver comes home. The transition is going to be so hard on him but it will be so much easier if you're the first familiar face he sees." Moira pleaded and I could feel my heart in my stomach.

"Moira, I--"

"Please, Karter." She begged. "It needs to be you."

I habitually chewed on the inside of my cheek as I nervously ran my fingers through my tangled, red hair. Moira was silent on the other end, waiting for me to say something.

"Okay." I mumbled. "I'll come back for a little while. But I can't stay. I don't think I'll be able to."

Moira breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Karter. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Oliver needs you more than he needs any of us right now." She said, though I struggled to believe her again. Why me? I thought as drops of saline rolling down my cheeks from my blurry eyes. Why not Thea? Or Tommy? Why did it have to be me?

I said my goodbye to Moira and she thanked me once again, promising to pay for my ticket and car rentals and everything, but I refused her offers. The Queens were an abundantly wealthy family, but even after twenty years knowing them, I still felt uncomfortable taking any expensive gifts from them.

I laid in bed for another hour, staring at the plain, white drywall of the ceiling. My mind was perpetually rearranging, still reeling. What was Oliver going to be like now? After what he had been through, I doubted there was a way our friendship could ever be like it was before. We weren't kids pulling all-nighters and binge watching our favorite movies. We didn't go get coffee anymore or build rope swings to launch ourselves into the lake.

Finally, I dragged myself out of bed, remembering my promise to Moira. I had to go to Starling City, no matter how much it pained me or how many haunting memories it brought to the surface. I dug a suitcase out from under my bed and sluggishly packed whatever I would need for the short visit. I called and booked a flight that night and texted Moira the details.

I slid open the bottom drawer of my dresser and began rooting through the pairs of pants and shorts in it. After removing a short stack of folded jeans, I unearthed a framed photograph. After dropping the pants into my suitcase, I picked up the picture and stared down at it.

A silver frame perimetered a picture of me and Oliver at our high school graduation. His cap was crooked and if memory served me right, he was just drunk enough that he could survive the ceremony, but not intoxicated enough that he stumbled when walking across the stage. I stood next to him, significantly shorter than him. My hair was longer than it was now. In the picture, my hair fell to my waist in tight, spiral curls, naturally auburn locks with chunky, strawberry blonde highlights I had saved up all summer to get. Now, my hair fell just past my collar bones and the early 2000s highlights were gone.

Oliver's hair was longer in the picture, but not shaggy, like the man I had seen on the news. He was freshly shaven and smiling his signature grin, flashing his white teeth. His arm was draped around my shoulders as we beamed, happily we had escaped high school.

Now he had escaped death. Who knew what effects it had had on him. Who knew who he was now.

I had spent the last five years missing him. All I wanted was to see him, to hear his voice and talk to the Oliver that was my best friend. I wasn't hesitant to go to Starling City because I didn't want to see him. I wanted to see him more than anything, but I was so scared that he wouldn't be who he used to be. Five years ago, I could predict his every movement, but now, I wasn't so sure.

Now, I feared he would not be my best friend, but he would be a complete stranger. 

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