Chapter 19
A/N hi lol
it's been 10 months since the last time I updated. I owe you guys an apology, but really, it came down to a lot of things. Namely, I didn't have time because of school, I was going through writers block, and I hated my style of writing (which I still do). I struggled to write a decent chapter because everything I wrote, I hated. I thought about discontinuing this book but this book means a lot to me and I really just want to finish it off. This book's been weighing on my mind a lot and it's not fair to some of you who are attached to the characters thus far. I can't promise my updates will be weekly, or even monthly. I might disappear again. But if you like this book, you'll stick around :) I have it all planned out, it's just the writing part that's the hardest for me. I'm going to try my hardest to finish it, so please be patient with me. Thank you if you're still here after all this time, I appreciate it more than you know.
Several days later, our agreement to study for the upcoming math test led me to reach out to Carson. Since Claudia gave me his number, I sent a message, anticipating his response. The silence that followed suggested he might be asleep.
As I waited for the shower to heat up, I checked my phone and replied to a message from Montgomery. Our daily texts had dwindled to once a week. He asked about my week and mentioned that Miles told him I was hanging out with new people. Miles, it seemed, had seen me with Ilya at The Grill a few weeks ago. I hadn't seen much of Ilya around lately; he probably returned to college in the neighboring town. I wondered if I could get in touch with him.
After showering, I entered the dimly lit living room, illuminated only by the TV screen.
"Dad, can I use your laptop for something?"
Dad turned away from the TV, which was playing a documentary about the Cuban Missile Crisis. "Sure, what for?"
"It's for a school project."
"Yeah, it's in my room." Dad chowed down on his cold spaghetti and returned back to staring at the T.V.
In Dad's room, while searching for the laptop, my eyes landed on a framed photo of Mom on his nightstand—their wedding picture. I couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't put it away. Maybe he was holding onto the past in some way. I swallowed and continued my search for the laptop.
I found the laptop in Dad's drawer. It was dusty, painfully slow, and some letters from the keyboard were missing but it'd have to do.
I got on Facebook and searched up Ilya's name. Nothing sprung up, with the exception of a middle aged man from Arkansas. Carson had already told me that he did not use social media because he considered it a waste of time. I backed spaced Ilya's name and looked up his mother's name instead. Surely she'd have Facebook, as was the case with most middle aged parents.
Claudia Rivers.
She had four posts, and every one of them were pictures of Carson.
Carson grins at the camera in one of them, dated 2016, but he looked awkward and out of place, almost like he was forced to take the picture. A long tube was connected to his nose, and his skin looked as white as paper. Claudia captioned the photo at the bottom with 'please pray 4 for my Carse, he's in the hospital for the third time this week'.
Another one on Claudia's page displayed a smiling Carson next to a petite redheaded girl with the caption 'my sweet angel is in the hospital for the 3rd time this year. But it's OK because he found himself a friend'.
The girl looked familiar. In the picture, she had a bony arm folded around Carson's midriff and smiled up at him in a tender manner. It was the same girl from Ilya's Instagram. It had to be.
I read through the comments, some saying 'RIP, heaven gained another angel'. Among those comments, one read 'rest in peace, Rowan'.
So that's her name. A name to attach to the face. The date of the photo suggested she had passed away in 2016. The dates, the captions, the sea of comments—they all painted a portrait of a story I had stumbled upon unintentionally.
I closed the laptop and wondered what had happened to her. Did she die from whatever she was sick with? Is this the reason she was at the hospital? What brought her and Carson together? Did she have the same illness as Carson did? Because if she did... I gulped the feeling of foreboding deep in my soul and left the room, shutting the door behind me.
The details about Rowan's death had opened a door to Carson's private world. A pang of guilt swept through me as I realized Carson had kept this pain to himself, and my accidental findings had reopened unhealed wounds.
Miles and I were perched on the sofa and playing video games. Those were my favourite type of afternoons, the languid and lazy kind, where Dad's working at the store and it was just Miles and I alone together, playing video games.
"My friend's coming over later, so don't play your trashy music out loud," I warned.
Miles' gaze remained locked on the screen, his fingers dancing over the controller. "Holly Dae?"
"Nope."
"The blondie she's with? Nicholas?"
"It's Nikolai, and no, not him."
"Good." Miles never liked Nik.
"I bet you secretly wished it was Holly Dae instead, you sly dog." I couldn't resist teasing him about his long-past infatuation with Holly Dae. Watching Miles stumble and blush around her was my personal form of amusement, even if she remained completely oblivious.
Miles reddened visibly. "You perv on my friends too."
"That only happened once."A few years ago, I had a thing for one of Miles' bandmates, Carl. He was a couple of years older than we were. On karaoke nights at The Grill, I would always go to see Miles and his band perform because I wanted to see Carl. Carl, with his glossy blond hair, Carl, with his thin-lipped mouth, Carl, with his raspy feeble voice singing on the microphone.
"Those are the only two friends you have. Is there anyone else I'm missing?"
"I've got more friends than you think." Miles grunted at that, and I felt compelled to defend my point. "It's the new guy at school. The one who just moved here."
Miles made a face. "Why do you spend so much time with him? Isn't that a little obsessive?"
My mouth fell open, warmth spreading over my cheeks. "I-I'm not!" I glanced back at the screen and realized I lost.
Miles made a victorious face, and tossed the controller on the ground."As usual, I won."
"You've lost twice this week. And I'm not obsessed with Carson, we're friends. He's helping me out with the upcoming maths test."
"The classic he's-helping-me-study. I made that trick, Max. Leave your bedroom door open, or I'm telling Dad."
I playfully flipped him a middle finger before heading to my room. Gazing at my paint-splattered self in the mirror, I sighed. Shopping with Holly Dae for trendy market finds was long overdue, but college savings took precedence over style. Despite my Dad's opinions on the matter, there was still a small part of me that hoped and prayed. It was starting to feel more like a fantasy, those you conjure up in your bed late in the night, wishing things were different.
Scanning my wooden closet for something decent to wear, I only found paint-splattered shirts and ripped jeans, not in a fashionable way. I groaned, returning my gaze to the mirror. I didn't want to impress Carson and validate Miles' argument about me, so I kept my clothes on and attempted to brush my frizzy hair. The brush got stuck in my curls, and as I tried to pull it out, the bristles clawed into my scalp, making my eyes water.
The doorbell chimed, making my heart race. "Hold on!" I shouted, quickly pulling the brush from my hair, leaving it even wilder – a mix of frizz and pouf. In a swift motion, I grabbed a knitted beanie and pulled it onto my head before heading to the front door.
As I stepped forward, the sight that greeted me was not what I had anticipated. "Carson?" My voice held a mix of surprise and a hint of irritation as I looked around. The garage door was partially open, and the gentle strumming of a guitar drifted out. I rolled my eyes in disbelief "Miles, do you ever listen to anything I say or does it just evaporate into thin air—?"
However, my complaints were silenced as my feet screeched to a halt, and my breath hitched in my throat. Miles lounged against his drum set, his eyes fixed on Carson's deft fingers teasing the guitar strings, a soft melody filling the garage. Carson raised his gaze to me floundering by the door, and I was certain then I looked flustered. His dark hair looked unkempt as usual, as if he'd just woken from a nap, and he sported sweatpants paired with an oversized hoodie.
I felt awful for bothering him. I hadn't seen him since our talk couple days before. My stomach churned with unease, a mixture of emotions swirling within me.
"Hi," he said, lowering the guitar.
"Hi," I managed to reply, my voice slightly breathless. "Um, come inside."
Carson gracefully weaved around Miles' scattered equipment, passing me on the way to our front door.
Carson stepped around Miles' equipment and walked past me to our front door. Miles made a gesture. "I like that kid."
I couldn't help but scoff, rolling my eyes playfully. As we headed back indoors, I observed Carson surveyed the living room, a chaotic mess strewn with food wrappers and cushions.
I began in a hushed tone, "Sorry, it's such a mess." I couldn't figure out why I was blushing. I didn't know what to say or how to act around him after our talk couple days ago. Then there's Rowan, who's always lurking at the back of my thoughts. I couldn't tell him about it without disclosing that I had been stalking his mother on Facebook.
"S'okay." Carson gave a dimpled smile, then titled his head. "Show me to your room?"
With Carson in tow, I led the way, wrestling with the internal debate of whether to sit at the desk or on the bed. The desk, equipped with a single chair, wasn't ideal, and my unmade bed posed an entirely different dilemma. Miles' comments from before echoed in my head. Desk it is.
Carson entered my room, his presence enveloping the space. He seemed to scan the room, his gaze searching for something, oblivious to my mental turmoil.
"Did you..." My voice faltered as I inched closer, quietly shutting the door behind me. "Did you need something?"
When he caught my staring, he at last said, "You told me you had a quote like mine in your room."
I was taken aback by the fact that he remembered. "Yeah, I just recently painted over it," I explained, not sure of why I felt so flustered. Maybe it was a reminder of one of my lowest points, or maybe it was because I had done such a poor job. Layers of mustardy yellow paint were plainly splotched across the wall.
Carson shifted his gaze away from the wall, meeting my eyes with a serious yet not unkind expression. "I like it."
His words were unexpected, and a small warmth crept into my chest. He moved towards my bookshelf and randomly selected a book, flipping through its pages. "Didn't peg you as a reader of fantasy," he commented, his eyes scanning pages filled with my notes and bookmarks.
"Oh, yeah? What did you peg me as?"
Briefly, he looked up at me. "Cheesy romances, I guess."
I playfully feigned exasperation but couldn't help grinning. "I read anything that catches my interest, although I haven't had much time for it lately."
Carson returned the book to its place, and an uneasy silence enveloped us. To break it, I gestured over my shoulder. "Want something to eat or drink?"
"Nah, s'okay. Mom packed me some lunch." That's when I spotted the rucksack slung over his broad shoulders. I felt a sense of relief, knowing that Claudia had packed his lunch. Our fridge lacked anything particularly nutritious or appealing, and I knew Carson wouldn't be thrilled about ramen noodles.
I was going to tell Carson to sit at the desk while I go fetch a spare chair from the dining table but he made up his mind and went to sit on my bed, so I just followed suit. I grabbed a spare book, a few pens, and a calculator while he was looking through his rucksack.
We spent about half an hour studying together, occasionally punctuated by my calls out the window for Miles to lower his music – a request he would fulfill for a few minutes before cranking up the volume again.
"Get it?" Carson looked up at me.
"I'll never understand Math," I admitted, my voice tinged with despair as I buried my face in my knees. "I don't know how you do it."
"Math is fun. It's simple."
I shot him an incredulous look. "What's so fun about it?"
"Well, I enjoy coming across a question that I don't know how to solve and then coming up with a logical solution. It changes the manner I approach real-life problems, and it's nice to know that I find a solution that I could probably come up with logically."
I never considered it in that manner. I was envious of his ability to see things in that light; his mind worked in ways that mine did not.
"It sounds like a headache waiting to happen."
"Maybe. But there's a sense of satisfaction in figuring it out, like solving a puzzle."
Leaning back against the wall, I contemplated his perspective. "Maybe I just need a better approach. Any tips for surviving Math?"
"First, don't think of it as a chore. Embrace the challenge. And second, find a study method that works for you. It could be flashcards, practice problems, or even teaching the concepts to someone else. Make it interactive."
I laughed. "Teaching Math? Now that's a challenge."
We continued bantering about the merits (or lack thereof) of Math, and Carson shared more of his study techniques, making the daunting subject seem a bit more approachable.
I looked up when Carson started talking again. "My turn to ask a question." He sank back further against my pillows, his long legs clumsily dangling over the edge of my bed. "Why did you always stare at me when I first moved here?"
A blush crept across my cheeks. So, he had noticed. "I, uh, I guess I was just curious. New people don't come to Belle Haven every day, you know?"
Carson's gaze all over was sharp on my face. "Curious?" he said, his tone a combination of amusement and delight. In the pit of my stomach, a warm liquid spilled. His eyes were a deep, black color. "Not impressed by my irresistible charm?"
I rolled my eyes playfully. "Oh, please. Irresistible charm? Maybe just a little mysterious allure."
"Well, I guess it worked. You couldn't take your eyes off me."
I feigned offense. "You wish! Maybe you were just hard to ignore."
Carson laughed, a warm sound that filled the room. "Hard to ignore, huh? I can live with that."
His trance seemed to shatter at my words. He let out a surprised laugh and playfully pushed me, to which I responded by giving him a light shove. He winced, recoiling from my touch. Quick to apologize, I was interrupted by his words.
"It's alright, Max," he said softly. "I should probably take my medicine." He retrieved a few pills and a bottle of green liquid from his rucksack.
"What is that?"
My furrowed brow didn't go unnoticed by Carson because he said, "it tastes just how it looks. Something my mom made for me. It's meant to help relieve some of the side effects I get from my medicine, mostly migraines and dizziness."
I peered inside. "Smells off. What's in it?"
"Green vegetables and herbs. My aunt's a vegan hippie. Sells a whole lot of herbs and natural remedies at her store. My mother, as I already stated, is a hoarder." He looked embarrassed to be telling me all this.
"I wish I was more healthy like that."
"You are." His tone had a slight edge to it. He had misinterpreted it, or perhaps I had said it incorrectly. Any rational person may tell you that I was the healthiest of the two. I didn't have a freaking hole in my heart.
"I meant, like... my diet. I eat really unhealthy stuff. Dad always says that eating healthy can be a bit expensive," I mumbled.
Carson downed his pills and took a sip of the concoction, grimacing slightly. Then he responded, "Your dad's got a point there. Gen's always giving me a hard time about what I eat. Says I'm a health freak."
"Yeah, well, Genevieve can go rot," I grumbled.
Carson's brows knit together. "What's your problem with her?"
"A lot," I said briskly, immediately thinking of Harry and her together in that bathroom, needing to bite down on my tongue to keep the bitterness at bay.
"Like?" Carson didn't say it defensively, but rather with a tone of sheer curiosity.
"The fact that Harry cheated on me with her," I blurted.
A silence followed. I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze, fearing his pity.
Then came his voice, "I'm sorry. I didn't know that." I had just tarnished the image of his one and only friend in this town.
"I don't get why you're friends with her." My comment was supposed to be out of playful curiosity yet the irritation in my tone was evident.
That didn't go unnoticed by Carson. His brows furrowed, then he shrugged. "She's nice to me," he said. "Showed me around when I first moved. And... and after you yelled at me in front of everyone, she helped me."
My stomach tightened. I didn't know how to respond. Swallowing down my guilt, I managed, "How did she help you?"
Carson took a moment before responding, his gaze distant. ""I'm not the best at handling crowds. So, when you confronted me in front of everyone at school, it just triggered a lot of anxiety. I quickly left because I couldn't handle the stares from everyone. Genevieve found me in my car, in the midst of a full-blown panic attack. She hopped into the car with me, drove us to The Grill, and we shared some burgers. It turned out to be the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me in this town."
I felt a weight descend upon me, like someone had knocked me off balance and stolen the air from my lungs. "It wasn't personal, Carson. I was going through a tough time," my voice came out timidly.
"We're all going through difficult times, Max." His tone was abrupt and sharp.
I felt small and feeble. "I don't know how many times you want me to apologize."
"I don't need you to." He shrugged, and his gaze returned, a mixture of understanding and reassurance. "It was nothing personal, right?"
I swallowed at the edge in his tone. "Right." To think that I was responsible for giving him a panic attack with his condition. I hurt him, I thought, I caused him pain. The atmosphere grew dense, and I struggled to find words that could dissipate the tension in the room.
"I think it's time for me to head out," he said. "This medication pretty much knocks me out. I'd hate to pass out on your bed." He attempted a joke, and I mustered a feeble smile. It was evident he was fighting to stay awake.
Carson slung his rucksack over his shoulder and followed me back to the living room. Dad had returned from work and was tidying up the living room, rearranging the cushions on the sofa. "Hey there, you two," he greeted us. "Heading out?"
"No, we were just studying together for our upcoming maths test." I didn't know why that sounded like a lie, even though it wasn't.
"I'm ordering pizza for dinner. Is that alright with you two?"
The thought of Carson eating greasy pizza made me laugh out loud. Claudia would suffer from a heart attack. Carson shared a small, amused smile that lingered in his eyes.
"I actually have to get going. Sorry about that," Carson said.
Dad peered at him through his new glasses. "Are you sure you can't stay for dinner, kiddo? Sun's about to set."
"Sorry, Mr Hudson, but Mom wants me back before sunset. Maybe next time."
Dad visibly winced at that. Carson didn't know about him and Mom. "Just call me Frank, no need for formalities," Dad insisted, glancing at me. "Well, if you need anything, I'll be in my room. I left money on the counter for the delivery guy, Max."
Carson and I ventured out to the front yard. Outside, the sky was drab and cloudy. Overheard, dark clouds were gathering.
Miles strolled out of the garage when he noticed the two of us lingering around. "Leaving already?" he asked Carson.
"Yeah, see you at school."
They both gave each other the bro nod. "Oh, and Carson?" Miles added over his shoulder as Carson prepared to leave. "During lunch, we hang out in the parking lot. Feel free to join."
Carson's face lit up in surprise, but he nodded at Miles before bidding me farewell and walking away.
"So, you and him are buddies now," I said.
"I'm thinking of recruiting him into the band." Miles had a faraway look in his eyes as he glanced off into the horizon. "He can play guitar, and he's friends with you so he's more likely to say yes..."
I burst out laughing. "Good luck with that." I couldn't figure out why the thought of Carson singing made me feel so warm inside.
Later that night, a text message lit up my phone, and I hurriedly checked it, half-expecting it to be from Montgomery.
Carson: Vanilla.
Carson: Vanilla.
Me: What? I typed back. Did he message this to me by accident?
Carson: Your room smells like vanilla :)