Page 40 of Never Forever

“Don’t be mad,” she said in a rush.

“What should I be?” I asked her. Because I was mad. Hurt, too. And now worried. If Cecelia didn’t know about us going to Boston together, then she hadn’t been actively trying to talk Carrie out of anything.

Once she did know, that would change. I had assumed Carrie had already had that battle.

But you didn’t ask her. Not directly.

Was that because, deep down in my gut I didn’t want to know how it went? Or because I knew that Carrie was telling the truth, that after all this time her mother still didn’t know about us. That we were in love, that we were fucking, that we were moving in together and I was going to marry her the minute we were ready.

“You know how she is,” Carrie whispered.

After the dance junior year, Carrie told her mom we were dating, and it had been an epic battle. She’d tried to send Carrie away for a billion auditions. She insisted on a curfew. The night of Prom she went to the hospital with mysterious stomach pains. Annie called Carrie and we went rushing to the emergency room.

Cecelia Piedmont tried over and over again to break us up, and yet, here we were. Stronger than ever.

Or so I thought.

“Yeah. But this is serious now. We’re serious.” We were starting our life and if she couldn’t tell her mom, what did that say about her faith in us? “Her opinion doesn’t matter. That’s what you said.”

“I know,” she said, rushing to try and hug me. I caught her hands, not ready to be hugged. “And it doesn’t.”

“Clearly it does. You need to tell her.”

“I’m going to tell her. I will. Tomorrow.”

I didn’t believe her. It was shocking, but I didn’t.

“Carrie? Are you embarrassed being with me?”

“No! Matt. God. No. Please don’t be mad,” she whispered. “It’s just hard with her, you know. I love her and I don’t want to upset her. But it seems no matter what I do, I can’t make her happy, either.”

“It can’t always be about her. You have to live your own life,” I said. I slid off the back of the truck. “We should get going. It’s getting late and she’ll worry.”

When she got in the truck and shut the door behind her, she looked at me with determination.

“It’s going to be fine,” she said to me.

I had no choice but to believe her. Because I wanted it to be fine. So badly.

“Hey Dad,”I said, coming in the front door. I expected to see him snoring on the couch in front of Jimmy Fallon, but the couch was empty. “Dad?” I cried. He’d had a few beers at the restaurant, but he wouldn’t be in bed yet. Dad never went to bed before I came home. He’d sleep all night on the couch waiting for me before he’d go to bed.

“Dad?” I said, walking into the kitchen, which was dark and quiet. The back door stood open so I pulled it wide and stepped out into the yard. My high jump pit was just the way I left it. And Dad’s chair where he sat and watched-

“Dad!”

He was on the ground in front of the chair. Face down and still.

“Dad!” I landed on my knees next to him and slowly turned him over. He was breathing, but he was bleeding from his nose and forehead. Like a lot. “Can you hear me?”

I laid him flat and fished my phone out of the back of my shorts. My hands were shaking as I punched in my code so I could call an ambulance. I didn’t see his eyes open but his shaky hand covered mine. “Stop, son,” he whispered. “I’m okay.”

“You are not!” I cried.

“Help me sit up.”

“I don’t think you should.”

“I sat down, got dizzy and fell. That’s all. Stop your fussing and help me up.” I got him sitting up and then ran in for a towel to clean up his face. The blood was terrifying.

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