Page 31 of From the Ashes
“It’s just, I’m okay with violence. We’re brothers, duh, but when you talk like that, and don’t get me wrong, I’m fully into you’re whole I’m a robot kind of guy, but sometimes it worries me a tiny bit that I could be the one at the end of the hammer, just saying.” He scratches the back of his head, the other hand holding a dart.
“I’d never hurt you. You are my friend. I don’t hurt my friends with hammers,” I explain, my voice cold and indifferent, when in reality, I wish he’d never had doubt about that. I’d rather kill myself with a thousand cuts than touch one hair of the folks I care about.
“Phew, glad we settled that,” he exhales dramatically. “So, the girl, alright, well, I think you did well. Three days is usually the perfect time to call back.” Landing his dart on the board. “The important thing to remember is that she asked you to call her. If she wasn’t into you, she would say something like‘I'll call you’ and never follow through, classic move.”
“Really?” I ask, furrowing my brows.
“Yeah, that’s ghosting 101,” he explains as if it were coming out of a book on dating in the twenty-first century. But I guess if Ash says three days isn’t so bad, then I’m good. It’s hard to know which way to go with Lana, ‘cause until now, I’ve always tried with women from my world. Now it's different. I can’t fuck it up. Clearing my throat, I adjust my shoulder to aim at the bullseye.
“How’s your mother?” I ask Ash. He’s been a good friend to me, so it’s only fair I ask about him too.Friendships are built on trust and vulnerability, Dr. Parks says. I don’t really know how to do that, but I want to try.
Ash's brows rise up before he swallows. “Better, doctors say she’s making progress.” His voice falters, revealing his pain.
His mother had a severe stroke a year ago and she’s still not fully able to use the left side of her body. She had to move into a rest home with medical care available at all times. Ash’s father visits her every day, and I know that Ash goes there as much as he can, at least once a week.Wish I could visit my mother too. I can, but she can’t answer me or hug me or tell me I’m not a monster like him.
“If you ever want company next time, I can come with you, or we can grab a bite after and drive up the valley,” I offer, hoping I’m not pushing him too far and trying my best to mimic a friendly face like the one I saw in a movie last week about four men going to Vegas for a bachelor party and becoming friends at the end.
“Thanks, bro, that’s… That’s nice of ya to offer.” His jaw flexes.
“Anytime, really.” He straightens up, tilting his head while staring at me. “I mean it,” I insist, ‘cause I’m never fully sure if what I’m saying comes across as genuine since my face is as readable as a block of ice.
“Kay, then… Yeah, that would be great. I’m going there next Saturday. Maybe we could grab lunch after, brighten things up, you know?”
I nod and make a mental note to buy him a bag of skittles. Saw him eat those shitty teeth-eating candies last time he saw her. Perhaps it reminds him of when he was younger and had his mom. Anyway, he seemed to like it since he didn’t want to share them with me. Ash is always cheerful and smiling, so it musttake a real toll on him to see his mom in this state. Even if I’m sure he goes there with a fucking bright smile, trying to cheer her up. I’ll see if Shadows wants to come with us too. We play a bit more then share one last drink with Tank and Bones before I head home. On the ride back I think about her, about the way she smiles shyly yet doesn’t try to hide it. About her wounds and her past, and how maybe the two of us aren’t that different after all. I think about her a lot, until I park under my building and reach the same elevator I shared with her a few days ago. I inhale deeply as if I could still get her scent into my body, imprinting it like a tattoo on my bones and letting it mark me like I hope to mark her.
You’re a monster, a psycho.
You’re made for the underworld.
Forget about the white fence, forget about her.
I shower, slide in my black sweatpants and get in bed, one arm behind my neck.Don’t call her. She doesn’t need you.I toss and turn until the light of my alarm clock says twelve past ten. Then, I clench my jaw and turn my face to my phone on my bedside table.
Fuck it.
LANA
“Hi,” a manly voice echoes in the dark of the night. Carter’s deep and velvety tone makes every sense in my body on alert.He’s calling me back.
“Hi,” I answer, trying to keep my legs under control and not kick them under my sheets like a giddy teenage girl. I’ve put Noah to bed early tonight and watched TV before grabbing a romance book to try to put myself to sleep. But the book is so good, I kind of want to read it to know the end. Which I willdefinitely pay in the morning, but whatever. It’s my house, I do what I want now.
“Did I wake you up?” I can’t see him, but there’s an intensity in his voice as if he really hoped he didn’t wake me. That’s considerate. Ben used to turn the big light on each time he went to the bathroom at night, so…it does feel nice that Carter asked.
“No, I was reading actually.” I’m holding my book in my other hand while I lay comfortably in my terracotta sheets, the little pink bedside table giving my bedroom a pretty vibe. My little cozy heaven.
“Good, I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Um, but still, you’re calling me after midnight. I wasn’t expecting you to do that,” I admit. I was hoping for him to call me right after our lunch. I know it’s silly, but Carter doesn’t seem like the typical guys I see at work or in my life in general. I expected him to do something quite…intense, matching him. But I guess him calling me now is still good.
This morning, as I was sipping my cup of tea while Noah was eating his breakfast Cheerios, I just thought, if he doesn’t call, I’ll call it a day and move on. I’ve got no intention of chasing anyone. If he wants me, he’ll call. I’m done listening to empty promises and waiting for change. Since I left my marriage, I decided I’d rather be on my own than with someone who doesn’t value me.
“I wanted to call you five minutes after you left,” he delivers blankly, and my heart thumps hard in my chest at his admission. I love that he doesn’t hide it from me. He’s not embarrassed, and it’s…refreshing.
“Oh.”
“But I didn’t want to scare you away.”
“You wouldn’t have scared me away.” The line goes silent.Is he still there?
