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“How is she?” Carter asks him, and I glance between the two of them. His father’s expression falters for a split second before he changes it to something else, something stronger than the weak man who’s withering away just as his wife is.
He nods at Carter and tells him, “She had a good day.” With his lips pressed in a thin line, he tells us he’s going to bed. Carter told me the days he doesn’t drink are different, but I haven’t seen him like this in a long time. A long damn time. It’s been two years of hell, with my hate growing for this man, but seeing him sober is different.
Carter nudges me as his father starts to walk away and I reach in my back pocket for the cash. “Mr. Cross,” I call out to him and take the three steps forward to pass him the bundle. “I just wanted to help out if you’ll take it,” I offer. “I won it on a bet and I don’t need it.”
“I wish I had the decency not to,” he answers me. “This isn’t charity.”
“Call it a loan then,” I answer him quickly as he tries to give it back. Taking a step away from him, I tell him, “I don’t care either way.” He nods his head in agreement, but the old man’s eyes turn paler and glossy.
It’s quiet for a long time as I watch the man do his best not to break down in front of me, tapping the wad of cash against his palm.
“I don’t know how to tell your brothers.” He talks to Carter without looking at me, staring down at the cash before slapping it down on the dining room table. The strength he had diminishes, and his face crumples with hopelessness.
“She’s not going to be here for much longer,” he starts to cry and it fucking hurts watching a grown man lose it. “I can’t lose your mother.” He covers his face with one hand, his other bracing him on the table to keep himself upright.
“They know, Dad,” Carter tells him, although he doesn’t go to his dad, he doesn’t try to comfort him. He stands strong and his father only seems to respect the decision as he rights himself, brushing away the tears and sniffling hard to be done with it.
“They don’t know,” he says in a single breath, his face going stony. “They can’t know until it happens. Nothing can prepare you for it.”
Carter looks down and stares at his mud-covered boots; I know he wants to object.
His father’s right though. Even knowing the end is coming can’t help. Nothing can prepare you for the type of destruction death brings.
“We’ll be all right,” his father sniffs and grabs Carter’s shoulder, squeezing it and waiting for Carter to look him in the eye. “All boys,” his father says and huffs a humorless laugh although a faint smile is on his lips. He looks at me as he asks, “Can you believe that?”
I offer him a weak laugh, feeling awkward and out of place.
“Their mother wanted a little girl and instead I gave her five sons. All Irish; the Irish boys have to be tough.” He nods his head as he talks to neither of us in particular. “The men have to be tough,” he repeats and then gives his son’s shoulder one more squeeze.
“Carter will do good,” he says and then sniffles again, giving me a glance before walking toward the worn doorway. “Carter will take care of them,” he says softly.
“You’re talking like you’re already dead,” Carter comments. “You’re still here.” The tension between them changes to something else, and for the first time, I see why Carter doesn’t blame his father. He would never go against his father. It’s the fear of losing him that keeps him loyal. Between the alcohol and his hopelessness, he’s already close to losing him.
“I won’t live much longer after she goes. That’s how it works.” His father doesn’t say anything else in the awkward silence that follows and neither does Carter.
It’s only when the stairs creak with the weight of his father going to bed, that Carter says anything.
“He’s a different man when he isn’t drinking. You see it, right?” Carter asks me, his voice more hopeful than I thought it’d be. “He’s not all bad.”
I can only nod, not wanting to fight with Carter. Carter’s told me his father treats him differently from Daniel, who’s the second oldest. He’s told me some days he doesn’t even know if his father loves him. I can’t forgive a man for treating his son like that. I won’t.
“Thanks for the loan, man,” he tells me, even though I’m aware he doesn’t like that he had to take it.
“Yeah, no problem. It’s nothing,” I say and try to brush it off like it doesn’t matter. “I have to go home to Chlo.”
“Look at you,” Carter jokes and I can feel the tension leave him, grateful to move on to a different subject. “Don’t fuck it up.”
I almost joke back and tell him that I know I’m going to ruin it somehow. But it’s too close to the truth and I don’t want to speak life into the words.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way in my head, not like this.
“She has no one,” I tell Carter, just wanting him to understand her the way I do. “The worst thing I can imagine is having no one.” It’s only when the words are spoken that I realize how alone I’ve really been. I wait for Carter to say something, but his mind is elsewhere.
Maybe there is something worse though. Like having someone, but knowing you’re bound to lose them.
CHLOE
It’s weird being alone in this place without Sebastian. I’m surprised he let me stay here at all. I’d planned on sneaking out in the morning and being weird on my own rather than weird with him.
