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Have sex.
Carter is oblivious to both my hangover and the new addition to the list as he starts making himself breakfast the following morning. I know the moment he sees it, even though my back is to him while I pour coffee into the biggest mug we have. I can hear it in his voice when he asks, “Uh… Casey?”
“Yeah?”
“You added something to my list, I see.”
“Just an idea. You know - when you’re ready.” I fill my mug until it’s nearly overflowing, wishing I had the kind of alcohol here that would go well in coffee. I doubt the taste of coffee mixed with tequila or wine would be worth the buzz. “You can remove it, if you want.”
We wrote the list in pencil after all.
He doesn’t say anything until we’re both seated at the table, him with cereal and coffee, me with just the coffee. If he notices I haven’t been eating, he doesn’t point it out. He looks upset, not meeting my eyes while fidgeting with his spoon. I stare into the black of my coffee, throat tight. I thought it was a good idea. “Are you mad at me for adding it?”
“What? No. Of course not. It’s not that.”
“Then why are you all quiet now?” I ask, hating that my eyes are burning with tears. I’ve been an emotional mess the past few days. I refuse to acknowledge that it coincides with leaving the safehouse. Leaving Jake. “Please don’t be mad at me, Carter. Please.”
He sinks lower in his seat, his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. “I… had sex. With Travis. Before coming here. Remember when we talked about sex that one day? And we were wondering if either of us could enjoy it? I wanted to find out, so – so I slept with Travis. I guess I felt guilty, so I didn’t tell you, but now it’s part of Operation Freedom and… yeah.”
Felt guilty.
So… it must have been a success. Far from my own experience – where I needed to think of Jake just to get hard, then threw up from a massive panic attack before I could reach completion.
I ask, hating myself for hoping I’m wrong. For hoping his experience was just as terrible as my own feeble attempt at something sexual.
But it wasn’t. He says it went well.
“Oh.” I take a deep breath, steadying myself. It’s okay. You knew you were broken. This isn’t a new development. It’s good Carter isn’t broken too. It’s better this way.
With a new attitude, I decide to be a good friend by helping him take the next logical step. “Maybe you should try with a stranger now. I mean, you and Travis aren’t together anymore, right? You need to see if you can be with someone like that. Someone… else?”
Carter blinks. “Oh…” His eyes linger on the list. Just as I’m about to take it back and tell him not to worry about it, he nods and says. “Sure. Yeah.”
“Then we’ll keep it on the list?” I ask carefully, not even sure how I feel about this anymore. Is it really safe for him to be hooking up with strangers? Is rape like lighting? Does it only strike the same person once?
“Yeah,” Carter says, sounding just as unsure as me. “We’ll… keep it.”
“Okay.”
“Not yet, though,” he says quickly, looking a little panicked. “I’m not ready for that.”
I nearly laugh in relief, nodding. I’d probably never forgive myself if something bad happened to him after I added that to the list. “We’ll start with textbooks and job searching then.”
He takes the new plan in stride, much more positive about the whole thing now that sex with a stranger has been momentarily sidelined. He finishes his cereal and coffee and offers to bring me along while he starts to tackle his list. I tell him I didn’t sleep well and need to nap. He gives me a smile that’s tight with worry and tells me to call him if I change my mind.
The moment he’s gone, I recreate my nest on my bedroom floor and barricade my door that doesn’t lock so Carter won’t come in and catch me that way. Then I curl up with my dolphin and my phone that now has a second unanswered text: Carter did the check-in last night. Can you do it tonight so we can talk?
I stare at the bedroom wall. It feels like it's getting closer. Like they're all getting closer.
“They’re not,” I tell myself, curling further in on myself. “They’re not fucking moving.”
But they are. In my head, they’re moving. They’re trying to collapse on top of me. Trying to suffocate me. My head spins. My lungs ache. I squeeze my dolphin, trying to ground myself.
It feels like I’m inhabited by the living, breathing demon of my anxiety.
I'm worried it might kill me.
Would it be so terrible if I let it?
