Criminal
I wake up to the comforting feeling of arms wrapped around me, and I know in an instant that the arms belong to Carrick. It seems like lately I’ve woken up in his bed so many times that I don’t even question it anymore. Except that isn’t really true. I’ve spent more time with Taylor for the past week, but I had a good reason for that. Carrick understood, I thought, but now just the thought of how I’ve abandoned him makes this awful knot form in my stomach.
There’s a good chance that what we did last night has a little to do with that awful feeling bubbling up inside of me, though. Or more than a little.
I wiggle around so that I’m facing Carrick and somehow I don’t wake him up in the process. That’s good. I kind of want a moment without his judgment, because I’m sure it’s coming as soon as he wakes up. But for now, he’s just laying there, looking perfectly content. I’ve never really noticed the way his brow furrows when he sleeps. Maybe it doesn’t always do that, but right now it is, and it’s adorable.
He really is beautiful.
It’s not the first time I’ve realized that, and it’s not the first time I’ve looked at him and just felt love. But right now, that love is accompanied by another feeling – one that I don’t like as much.
Regret. Guilt. Shame.
I should never have asked him to stay last night. Carrick didn’t need to see that, and he certainly didn’t need to be a part of it. I needed him, but I’m not so sure that my needs trump his. If I truly loved him, I wouldn’t even have to question it, would I? I would just want to do what was right for him. I would realize when I was being selfish, and I would care enough to change it. The fact that I feel guilty about it now, when it’s too late to take it back, hardly matters.
I wonder why he even puts up with me. He deserves so much better than what I’ve given him. The more I think about it all, the more it makes me sick. As quietly and carefully as I can, I extricate myself from his grip and crawl off the end of the bed. It’s awkward, but it’s the easiest way to escape without disturbing him.
Escape. As though I were a criminal or something.
In a way, I definitely feel like one. And not just because I’m trying to sneak out, but because I know I have done something wrong. I know he’ll never tell me, but I had to have hurt Carrick. How could last night have done anything else? And while Taylor might have been the one to pour salt in it, I’m definitely the one who opened the wound to begin with. I want to blame Taylor for all my problems, but the truth is, I’m at center of them.
I’m the problem.
If he hasn’t figured that out yet, he’s surely going to figure it out soon. Maybe I can save him the trouble. Maybe I can just leave. I don’t know why I’m still lingering, standing over the bed staring at him like some kind of creeper. He really is beautiful, particularly so when he’s asleep, and that’s doing nothing at all for the creeper thing or the leaving thing. It’s so hard to peel myself away from him, though, even when I know it’s for the best.
My eyes barely leave him even as I try to put my scattered clothes back on. Somehow, I manage to get dressed in my jeans and t-shirt without waking Carrick up, and I’m so thankful for that. I don’t know what I would even say to him if he did wake up now. I don’t know how to explain to him why I’m leaving, why I know leaving is what I have to do. For the moment, at least, I’m spared having to come up with any sort of explanation for him.
I slip out of his bedroom as quietly as I possibly can, forcing myself to focus straight ahead and not look back at him. Even one more glance at Carrick, still curled up in the bed even though there’s no one there for him to hold, would stop me in my tracks. I know it would. So I just keep walking right on down the stairs, letting out a sigh of relief as I discover that my cell phone and keys are somehow still in the pocket of my jeans.
By the time I reach at the bottom of the stairs, I’m feeling pretty good about my chances of making a clean getaway. So naturally, that’s also the moment that I realize I’m not alone. A sudden noise from my left makes me jump, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s their coffee machine. I can only hope there’s no one in the kitchen with it, but I doubt my luck is really that good. Sure enough, the floorboard creaks under someone’s footsteps and a few seconds later, Austin is in the doorway.
“Hey, didn’t realize you were still here,” he says.
“Umm,” I say, because I really have no clue how to respond and my voice barely feels like putting in an appearance anyway. Even that little sound comes out as hardly more than a frog-like croak. “Yeah, umm… I kinda crashed in Carrick’s room.”
It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve spent the night here, and I know Austin knows that, but it still feels strange to admit that I slept in Carrick’s bed. Austin doesn’t need to know that isn’t all I did in Carrick’s bed last night. From the look on his face, though, I get the feeling that he does know something. What he thinks happened and what actually happened might not be the same thing, but they’re probably close enough. Either way, I really hope this conversation ends soon so that I can leave.
“Is he awake yet?” Austin asks.
“Umm, I don’t think so.”
“I am now,” Carrick says from behind me and it makes me jump.
I don’t know how long he’s been there, but there he is on the bottom step, looking… dazed. I don’t know any other words to accurately describe the look on Carrick’s face.
“I should… umm, I was just leaving,” I manage to stutter out, trying my best not to meet Carrick’s eyes. If I did, I don’t think I could leave.
Without a word, Carrick follows me as I walk through the house to the back alley where I parked the night before. I don’t have to turn around to know he’s there. I can feel him behind me, his shadow over me like he’s trying to protect me or something. Usually I would like the way it feels to have him as my bodyguard, but right now I just feel like I don’t deserve it.
As soon as my hand touches the doorknob, Carrick grabs my arm. I’m not really surprised, but I can’t help letting out a sigh. Why can’t he just let me go? Why does he have to fight me on this when I’m doing it for his own good?
“Zac,” he says. “You don’t have to run.”
“Yeah, I think I do,” I reply, trying to hold my ground and not let him turn me around to face him, no matter how hard he tugs on my arm.
He sighs. “Look, I know last night was… fucked up, but it doesn’t have to be a big deal, okay? We can… I don’t know, we can get through this, right?”
It almost seems like he’s asking me if we can, like he doesn’t even believe it himself, but maybe if he says it, that will make it true. It doesn’t, though. How could it? How could we possibly get through this like nothing at all happened last night? What Taylor and I did changes things, and the fact that Carrick watched – that I made him watch – only makes it worse. This can’t go on like it has been, like nothing big and awful is happening.
“I can’t do this.”
At first, I don’t even realize I’ve said it out loud, but Carrick lets go of my arm and backs away so that I can no longer feel his body near mine. It wasn’t the comfort it had been before, anyway.
“I’m sorry…” I add, and I wish I could find the words to explain everything that I’m sorry for and why it has to be this way, but I can’t. I can’t even look at him right now. “I just… I can’t. This isn’t right.”
That’s not what I wanted to say, but those seem to be the only words I can force out of my mouth.
“Yeah,” Carrick replies, and I swear he sounds choked up, but I refuse to look at him and see for certain just how this is affecting him. “I’m sorry too.”
And that’s it. I can feel him walking away and hear his feet shuffling against the carpet. He isn’t even trying to fight me now. I guess he does understand. It’s better this way, really, if he understands that it can’t work and he doesn’t hang on forever only to end up with his heart broken or something.
I don’t look back at all as I walk out the door and get into my truck. I don’t know if Carrick’s there watching me and I don’t care to know. It will only make this harder. I don’t look back at the door as I maneuver my truck out of the alley and onto the street. Once I’m around the corner and out of sight of his house, I let out a huge sigh.
I’m free.
And more than that, I’ve set Carrick free.
Even though I know it was the right thing to do, I still don’t like the way it feels. I turn the radio up loud, loud enough to hurt my ears, to drown out these feelings. It doesn’t help much, but the fact that it hurts a little seems appropriate. I don’t mind punishing myself right now; I almost feel like I deserve it.
When I pull into my driveway, I’m not exactly surprised to see that Kate’s car is missing. I haven’t heard from her in a few days, but it’s Sunday morning, so even if she hadn’t been with Natalie, chances are she would have been at church. For a split second, I wish I was there, too. Not to be with Kate, but because god knows I could use some kind of guidance right now. The thought passes quickly; I don’t think there’s any church in the world that would have anything good to say to me right now.
I’m not sure anyone in the world could possibly offer me any advice right now.
The house is quiet and empty, as though no one lives in it at all. Lately it feels like I’m barely even existing at all, and I guess this abandoned house feeling is a reflection of that. The only signs of life at all are a few dirty dishes in the sink and the blinking light on the answering machine.
Well, that’s different. No one but Kate – and that one time, Taylor – ever calls our house phone.
I push the playback button and walk to the refrigerator for a soda while I wait for the machine to play whatever message it seems to have. After the machine’s robotic voice finishes talking, Kate’s fills the air.
“Zac, hey… umm, I guess you’re probably still asleep or something. I hope you get this in time. I was just thinking of stopping by after church. You and I… well, we’ve got a lot to talk about, I think. So I guess I’ll see you later. Bye.”
By the end of the message, my hand is shaking so hard that I can barely grip the soda can I’ve reached for. I can only guess what she might want to talk about, but none of the possibilities that spring to mind are good.