Chapter 5
There are only three things that truly mattered to me in life: painting, Dad and food.
A couple days later, I strolled into the kitchen to find Miles standing at the counter. He crouched beside the oven, wearing a flowered apron and humming one of his stupid songs.
The only reason why he knew how to cook was because his ex-girlfriend had taught him. To this very day, I still had no idea why they broke up. I had a soft spot for her since she used to cook for us regularly, and after all, food is the way to my heart.
"Smells uhmazing. What're you cooking?" I walked over the fridge and inspected it.
There were still pictures of Mom hanging from some magnets. I wondered why they weren't taken down by Dad yet. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked away. I kept telling myself that it was for the greater good, but sometimes seeing Dad mope around the house hurt me more than it should.
Miles removed his apron. "Chicken parmesan casserole."
"You haven't made that in a while. What's the occasion?"
"Dad is trying to be the good guy and cook for the new neighbors."
"New neighbors? I didn't see any moving trucks."
Miles rolled his blue eyes, "They've moved into a house two streets away from us, but somehow that still counts as our neighbors."
"Did you see what they look like?" I bet it's an old couple. Add that to the growing list of old people in this town.
"Oh yeah, and they don't have a hot daughter." He sighed dramatically like that ruined his entire day.
"They have a son around your age," said Dad as he stepped into the kitchen. "Smells good, Miles."
"A son?" Miles peered at me suspiciously.
"Yeah, we met him last week," Dad told him. "You remember him, Max? He came into our store. I can't for the life of me remember his name." He put his hands on his hips and squinted down at the floor as if that was going to help him remember.
My heart leaped to my throat, "Carson?"
Dad made a snapping motion with his fingers. "That's the one! He just moved in with his family. I told ya, it's probably all the gas he had to pay coming back and forth everyday. Family must've thought 'might as well move here'."
"They made a big mistake," I muttered. My head was spinning at the news. Why on Earth would Carson move here of all places?
Miles reached for his leather jacket, which he had left on the counter, and threw it on. "Who gives a shit? I'm going to Finn's house. We're working on a new song."
"Who's going to look after the casserole?"
Miles ruffled my hair, "You are." He walked out the backdoor before I could protest.
"Listen, kiddo, when it's done, I want you to take a plate to Carson's house. I would do it myself, but I need to make an important call." "Me?" I whined. I didn't want to see Carson.
"Yeah, I don't see why not."
I sighed and looked down at my clothes. I was dressed in a green turtleneck and jeans that were splattered with paint. "Fine."
When the casserole was finished cooking, I waited for it to cool down and then tucked it away in a plate. Why couldn't Miles make something more simple, like cookies?
I ate a bit myself and then headed down the street. Dad said their house was on Fletcher Street. Their house, according to Dad, was number eleven.
My heart began to beat for no apparent reason. When I arrived, I stood outside and took in my surroundings. It was a fair-sized house with a god-awful picket fence. Still better than our house, though. Our house very well could have been liveable decades ago, but now the yellowing lawn was overrun by tall weeds that had not been cut in months. The wooden fence wrapped our house was crooked, chipped and barely hanging on its own. It was as if Mom had taken the very life out of our house when she left.
Genevieve Gellar called out to me as she walked by, her blonde hair swishing behind her. "They have a cute son," she said. To be frank, she was the bane of my existence. It seemed like she had made it her life's mission to despise me with every fiber of her being since I began dating her cousin.
She must have given them a little welcoming gift, too. Carson probably had enough food to feed a remote village. In this town, it was basically a rite of passage to be welcoming to any new residents.
I considered fleeing and lying to Dad, but decided at the last minute that I should just get it over with, so I crossed the porch and knocked the door that smelled of dust and age.
It instantly flew open, as if the person on the other end had been anticipating visitors. Carson, dressed in grey sweatpants and a red hoodie, stood at the door. Despite the fact that it was almost three o'clock in the afternoon, he appeared to have just awoken.
"Can I help you?" He reeked of cigarettes and a smidgeon of cologne.
I just stood there staring at him for a few moments.
He gave me a once-over with a raised brow.
I pressed the hot plate against his chest. I managed to sputter out, "Um... we cooked this for you."
"More food," he remarked with a tight-lipped smile, his tone less than impressed. I could sense he was probably sick of people knocking on the door every five minutes. That made me want to die inside.
I cleared my throat, trying to regain composure. "Yeah, you know, just a little welcome gesture. Thought you might be hungry."
He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, and a faint smile played on his lips. "You do this for everyone in the neighborhood?"
I chuckled nervously, feeling the weight of his scrutinizing gaze. "Well, not exactly. You just seemed... special."
Carson raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Special, huh? What makes me so special?"
I faltered for a moment, searching for the right words. "I mean, you're new in town, right? Thought you might appreciate a home-cooked meal. It's a thing around here, if you haven't noticed. Plus, my dad practically forced me."
"Appreciate the effort, Max." His eyes locked onto mine, and I couldn't help but feel a warm liquid spill in my stomach.
"Well, enjoy the food," I stammered, shifting on my feet. "And, um, welcome again. If you need anything, you know where to find me."
Carson's smile deepened, a subtle warmth in his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Max."
He took the plate and vanished inside, leaving the door ajar. I tried to sneak a glimpse inside, but my efforts were in vain. Assuming Carson had gone back to his room, I turned and walked away. As I strolled down the street, the sound of heated arguments reached my ears, coming from Carson's house. It sounded like Carson was engaged in a shouting match with someone.
It's not my business. I should just keep walking.
But curiosity got the better of me, so I turned to sneak a glance over my shoulder. On the porch of Carson's house stood a woman who seemed to be in her early-forties. She must be his mom — the resemblance is too striking. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun over her head and she was dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans. She was weeping loudly. Carson was half out the door and yelling at her. A man behind her wrapped his arms around her and she cried, "Carson, please!" She turned to bury her face in the man's chest. That man had to be Carson's father.
Carson stormed off. It was then that he noticed me on the sidewalk, gawking at them. He didn't appear embarrassed that I had just witnessed him yelling at his parents. That had to be a regular occurrence in the household, then.
It was unsettling to see him lose his calm like that. His mom continued to weep on the porch, leaning on Carson's father's shoulder.
Carson began jogging in my direction. I couldn't decide whether I should turn around and leave or stay put. "Hey," he puffed out as he got near. His face was flushed, as if he had been out of breath. "Would you mind taking me on a tour around town?"
"You want me to show you around town?" I sounded rude, even to my own ears.
"Got nothing better to do."
I stared at him, mulling over my choices. I could just walk away and leave him here, but he was looking at him in a slightly hopeful way. Plus, I could practically hear Dad's voice in my head. Love thy neighbour.
"Fine. Make it quick, though." I walked ahead, creating a considerable distance between us, but his abnormally long legs allowed him to catch up swiftly.
"So, what brings you to Belle Haven?" I broke the silence as we casually strolled down the sidewalk.
Carson jammed his hands into his pockets, glaring down at the yellowing grass. "Change of scenery."
I wanted to prod for more, because no one ever moves to Belle Haven for change of scenery, but I let it go. Instead, I pointed towards a small park up ahead. "Well, here's one of the scenic spots in town. Not much, but it's peaceful."
Carson followed my gaze, nodding. "Peaceful's good."
We continued our casual stroll, passing by familiar landmarks that, to me, held both mundane and nostalgic significance. Carson, however, observed everything with a hint of detachment, as if he were deciphering a code only he could understand. I stole a glance at him. "So, what do you think of Belle Haven so far?"
He tilted his head, a small. "It's... quaint. Different from what I'm used to." I raised an eyebrow.
"Different in a good way or a bad way?"
Carson gave a tight smile. "I'm still figuring that out."
"Well, you're going to come to learn pretty soon that there's not much to do here other than hangout in the Walmart parking lot. I dunno why anyone in their right mind would want to move here." That was a subtle dig at him.
There was a momentary pause before he replied, and when he spoke, a faint edge had crept into his usually calm voice. "Well, it's not like I had much of a choice."
I didn't want to irritate him any further, so I tried to lighten the mood with a joke. "Our bookstores mainly have books about Jesus. I'd hope you're a Christian otherwise you're not going to have a good time here." There were a lot of staunch Christians in this town. I was pretty much forced to go to church almost every Sunday of my life. If you skipped, you get judged.
There was a slight grimace to his face. "My family isn't religious."
We walked downtown, where there were a slew of rustic stores dating back to who knows when. "No malls around here?" Carson asked me, his eyes squinted at a clothing store.
"Nope, just a bunch of stores. The nearest mall is in South Warren." South Warren was an hour's drive from Belle Haven. I go there with Holly Dae once a year for Christmas shopping.
We walked down the empty street and passed by the police station. "Oh, and everything closes at five," I said to him.
"That's awfully early."
"Tell me about it."
He lifted a cigarette to his mouth. "No offense, but this town is a shit show."
"Now you see the light," I joked.
"Why not move away, then?" Carson asked, his eyes fixed on mine. "If you don't like it here, why stick around?"
I met his gaze squarely and said, "Well, it's not like I have much of a choice." I repeated his words from earlier.
He looked at me and gave a slow, wicked smile.
"That way is Kent's store although I'm sure you know that by now. Down the street is our one and only hospital in town." I spoke quickly because I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. "Be careful around the hospital, though."
"Why?"
"There's this crackhead who always hangs around there and scares kids off. We call him Chuckle Cycle Charlie because he's always riding a bike and falling off it."
"Thanks for letting me know."
We continued on to the next neighborhood, where every house stood tall and looming. Over my shoulder, I added, "This is the rich side of town." Carson, dragging his feet behind me, seemed detached yet observant. "Everyone here has a pool, a balcony, and a dog."
"Where do you live?"
"Nice try, creep."
He laughed, and I might have smiled. But only for a bit.
As we passed by Harry's house, I tried to quicken my pace. The last thing I wanted that day was for Harry to spot me hanging out with an unfamiliar guy. Harry wasn't the jealous type, but he did have an insatiable curiosity for everything.
"Can we take a break?" I looked back to see Carson leaning against a streetlight.
"Why?"
His face had gone pale and he was breathing heavily. "Just... just for a bit." He sounded weary.
I think I might've given him an odd look. I said, "take your time," when all I wanted to do was get out of here.
He dug through his pocket and pulled out an inhaler. I watched as he breathed into it, removed it, then slowly breathed out. Then he took a long drag of his cigarette.
"Can't say I've ever seen that before."
"I already hate it here," he said bitterly as he stuffed his inhaler back into his pocket.
"Cheer up. It's not that bad." It totally was. I just wanted to make him feel better, because he looked like someone had just told him he contracted some sort of terminal illness. "And look, you can find comfort in the fact that everyone here hates it."
He snuffed out his cigarette on the ground with his shoes. "I have a hard time believing that." With a shake of his head, he expressed his dissatisfaction with the situation. In the daylight, his hair appeared almost blue-black. "Don't get me wrong, everyone here is so nice and welcoming. People were already at our doorway as soon as we moved in, giving us scope on the local schools, where to find the greatest food, and who the best barber is."
"I think that's the one thing I like about this town. People can be genuinely kind when they want to be. Your house burns down, next thing you know people are donating items, clothes, money for you to get by."
"So what does one do for fun in this town?" He asked from somewhere behind me. His voice sounded a little hoarse —. like he just had a coughing fit.
"I mean, there are seasonal fairs sometimes. It's about as much fun as you can have in this town."
"Is that it?" I'm sure he was mentally kicking himself for his life choices.
"Pretty much." I shrugged and skipped ahead of him. "It's hard meeting new people; that's why most high school sweethearts get married. You're going to be the talk of the town for a while now."
"Lucky me." His statement was drowned in sarcasm.
"People normally start picking up drugs and partying hard 'cause there's nothing else to do."
"Can you tell me what that is?" I turned around to see him staring in awe at The Grill, this town's only saving grace.
"The Grill is where all the rich kids hang out, mainly because alcohol is served there. They also make these steamed cheeseburgers, and it kind of became a local food around here. If you're going to be a part of this town, then you have to try it at least once. It's practically tradition at this point."
"Oh? I guess you're going to have to take me out sometime to try them."
"I have a boyfriend," I felt the need to cut in.
Why did I say that?
He didn't say anything to me again for the rest of our journey.
The air between us became thick with unspoken words, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just created an unnecessary barrier between us.
He only spoke to me again when we arrived at his house. He had been walking sluggishly behind me the entire time, which was very pretentious of him. I almost snapped at him earlier because I was chatting to myself while he was practically a mile down the ride.
I looked over my shoulder. He was down the street, hunched over and audibly gasping for air. "Are you okay?"
He kind of staggered toward me and looped an arm around his stomach. "I'm all right." His breaths came out in short puffs. I was going to make a joke about how he should hit the gym more often but I don't know if he'll find it funny or not, so I keep it to myself.
Carson walked ahead of me down the front yard. He stopped in his spot, like he was about to say something to me. He then turned and looked at me over his shoulder and said, "Listen, I kind of owe you an apology for before. I didn't mean for it to sound like I was hitting on you. I wouldn't want anyone to hit on my girlfriend and joke about taking her out on a date, so I'm sorry if I came off as creepy."
I was stunned into silence. He stared at me and waited for an answer. I said, "I don't blame you for trying to hit on me. I'm hot as hell."
A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth. He turned to go inside, but I quickly spoke up.
"You know," I said, breaking the brief silence, "my boyfriend's throwing a party this weekend. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but... well, you should come."
As the invitation hung in the air, I watched him for a fleeting moment, noting how his gaze briefly evaded mine. In that instance, an unexpected sense of control swept over me.
"Ah, parties aren't exactly my thing."
"Well, make it your thing. Just for one night. It'll be fun, I promise." I knew those parties weren't fun, but I still felt guilty about my earlier comment. More than that, there was this hidden wish to see him again.
He dipped his brows in a frown. "Are you sure they wouldn't mind?"
I shrugged, "Who cares what they say? You've moved to this town so it's only fair that you try and fit in. Maybe you'll make new friends there, who knows." I cut my rambling short and add, "I'd really like it if you could come."
He smiled his crooked smile and went inside.