Pity Party
Thanks to Penny and her Barbies, Carrick and I were stuck at Mom and Dad’s house for several more hours. Eventually I was forced into the game as well, which didn’t surprise me at all. She apparently had weddings on the brain – I suppose her mom was to thank for that – so we dressed all her dolls in their best clothes and acted out a little Barbie wedding. For whatever reason, she decided that Carrick was the groom and I was the bride.
I don’t think he’ll let me forget that one for a while.
He doesn’t say anything on the drive home, though. He just sits there with a little grin on his face, window rolled down so that the smoke from his cigarette doesn’t linger in my truck. I don’t really care, though, and he knows it, but apparently he just has manners or something. It’s this constant dance with the two of us – trying to figure out what the boundaries are, drawing lines and then crossing them.
Cigarette smoke is a smell I’m not really bothered by, anyway. I guess I’ve got Taylor to thank for that. He and Isaac both took up smoking around the same time, when we got home from touring for our second album, but only Taylor became truly addicted. He’d sneak out behind the studio to smoke, thinking no one would notice, but I always traced the smell to him. I would sit there with him for hours sometimes, neither of us saying a word, while he went through half a pack or more. At first, the smoke made me cough and gag, though I tried to hide it, but eventually it just became another part of Taylor.
It isn’t such an innate part of Carrick, though. He’s always going to quit, recently quit, or in the process of it. The smell doesn’t cling to him the way it does Taylor; Carrick’s scent, which I got to know very well thanks to sharing a bus with him, is earthier – the weed, and something else, something that’s just… Carrick.
Looking back, it’s strange that I was even that familiar with his scent before it was all over my sheets and clinging to my clothes. Until a few days ago, I never would have considered our friendship too close, but I guess it was, by most people’s standards. Maybe, on some subconscious level, that’s the real reason why Kate despises him so much. I wonder if anyone else could see it before I did.
“You alright?” Carrick asks.
“Hmm?” I reply, glancing over at him. His cigarette is gone now, so I must have spaced out for a while. It’s a good thing that, as everyone likes to remind me, I drive like an old man. Otherwise, we might have been in trouble. But here we are, somehow turning down the street to my house, even though I barely remember going through the motions to bring us here.
Carrick chuckles. “Just lost you for a second there… you looked even spacier than usual.”
I steer my truck into the driveway with one hand. The other hand is in the air, one finger raised to flip Carrick off. I know he’s just joking, though, and I am, too. Despite that delicate dance, our tip-toeing of all those lines, we still mostly just act like friends. Until we’re cuddling on the couch or tucked into bed together, nothing seems different at all. Maybe nothing is.
Then again, maybe things are completely different. Carrick’s arm snakes its way around my waist as we walk up the driveway together, and it manages to feel really weird and absolutely perfect at the same time. I want to lean my head against his shoulder, but I think that would be pushing it a bit, and I need to focus on unlocking the door, anyway.
We’ve barely managed to kick off our shoes when the phone starts ringing. Are we just not allowed to have a moment’s peace at all? The thought that it might be Taylor calling again makes me rush to the nearest phone, but it also makes me feel a little sick. Why would he be calling again so soon, anyway?
Nervously, as thought it might bite me, I pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey,” a voice says on the other end and it takes me a second to identify it as Johnny. He’s been practically a member of the family forever, and now that Jessica’s married to his little brother, I guess he really is.
“What’s up?” I ask, then mouth Johnny to Carrick, who’s standing a few feet away, looking just as puzzled as I feel.
“Nothing much. Just wanted to make sure you were coming over to our barbecue tonight.”
Oh. Right. He and Angie have a barbecue almost every weekend during the summer. I can’t believe I’ve forgotten about this one, but it appears that I have. I clear my throat and reply, “Oh, yeah. Of course. What time was it, again?”
“Everyone’s coming over around six,” he replies. “Can you give Carrick and Austin a call and tell them they’re invited, too? Joe managed to lose their numbers so I couldn’t call them myself…”
“Yeah,” I reply, glancing at Carrick. “I’ll let them know.”
“Great. See ya later, man.”
“Later.”
I put the phone back on its charger, then give Carrick a sheepish smile. “How do you feel about going to a barbecue with my friends and extended family? Johnny said to give you a call and invite you, so…”
Carrick chuckles, then gives me a more serious look. “How do you feel about it?”
“Alright, I guess,” I reply, shrugging. “Could be worse. I can’t stay locked up here like a hermit forever, can I?”
“No, I guess not,” he says, giving me a smile. “Sure, let’s go.”
I don’t bother telling him that I would much rather stay locked up like a hermit, as long as he’s there with me. But, with him, I guess I can manage to go out and be social, too.
Despite my hesitation to go to the barbecue, it actually isn’t so bad. We picked Austin up along the way, which meant Carrick squeezed in close to me in the cab of the truck. He didn’t do anything but just sit there, his leg pressed up against mine, but it was enough to have me on edge in the best and worst possible way, for the whole drive. Austin didn’t notice, though. He was too busy smoking his cigarette and asking what kind of alcohol they were going to have at the party.
I have a feeling he was expecting something more exciting when I said “party” than what he actually got, but he seems to be enjoying himself well enough. In fact, the party isn’t nearly as bad as I feared. Someone even remembered that Carrick doesn’t eat meat, so there were a few soy burgers for him and some fancy vegetable kebab things Angie was really proud of. Carrick even managed to get me to eat one of them – the kebabs, not the soy burgers.
Now he’s socializing with my friends and family while I’ve found a way to still be a hermit even with a dozen or so people around. It’s a real talent of mine. I found a little hiding place around the side of their house, not quite out of the backyard, but not in the alleyway either. Someone decided to put a bench back there, for whatever reason, and I’m making myself comfortable on it, sipping my beer in peace.
“Hey.”
At least, I was sipping my beer in peace.
“Hey,” I reply, not needing to look up to know it’s Carrick standing there.
He sits down next to me without even asking permission. I guess we’re past the point of that, anyway, and he knows I’d never tell him no. “You feeling alright?”
“Haven’t you asked me that already today?”
“Yeah,” he replies. “But it bears repeating. You look like someone kicked your puppy.”
I try to smirk, but I have a feeling I probably just end up looking nauseous. “You guys probably should have just come without me. I know I’m horrible company.”
“I thought we came here for a barbecue, not a pity party,” Carrick says.
I look up at him, fully prepared to scowl, but the way he’s grinning at me, obviously proud of his joke, stops me in my tracks. I am being pathetic, and I know it. All I need is for him to call me out on it. It won’t fix everything right away, but already I’m giving him a genuine smile in return.
“That’s better,” Carrick says, giving me a smile of his own and reaching his hand out to touch my face.
I can’t help drawing back a little at his touch. I know it isn’t that different from anything we might have done before everything changed, but it feels different. If it feels different to me, then surely everyone else can see it, too. It makes me feel vulnerable. I don’t know how to explain this, this thing between me and Carrick, to everyone. Carrick seems to understand my hesitance. He pulls his hand back, but his smile never falters.
“I’m going to go get another drink,” Carrick says. “Do you want anything?”
I shake my head and hold up the still half-full plastic cup I’ve been sipping from for the past hour. I’ve been so much of a mess lately that I really don’t trust myself to get drunk. Best case scenario, I would just end up punching someone. Worst case scenario, I would punch someone and then shove my tongue down Carrick’s throat. It’s really best for everyone if I stay relatively sober.
“Alright,” Carrick replies, giving me a pat on the leg. “You just chill out here, then. I’ll be back.”
I watch Carrick walk away, then lean my head back on the bench and sigh. The party really hasn’t been that bad, but I can still feel the way that everyone seems to be walking on eggshells around me. They may not know everything that’s going on in my life, but they know Kate is gone. While I do feel like an absolute trainwreck, I can’t stand their pity. I’m not trying to throw the pity party that Carrick accused me of. I’m just trying to hold myself together and mostly failing.
My pocket starts to vibrate, and it takes me a minute to realize it’s my cell phone. No one has called it in days, but apparently everyone in the world needs to talk to me today. I shift around a little and dig the phone out, then nearly drop it onto the ground when I see the name on the screen. Taylor.
Again?
It’s a text message this time. He never texts me; he never texts anyone, really. When he does, the messages are usually so long that he could have just gotten his point across faster by calling. I unlock my phone to see what he has to say this time.
I can’t help cracking a smile at the silly little face he punctuated the message with. Taylor is the only person I know who gives his smilies a nose. I know it’s just a little quirk of his, but it causes this stupid fluttering in my chest to read those words and imagine him smiling at me. After days of barely talking, he wants to see me? It probably doesn’t mean anything at all, but it still has a profound effect on me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Carrick walking back over to me. I quickly type a reply to Taylor, just to let him know I got his message, then tuck the phone back in my pocket. I’m not trying to hide that little exchange from Carrick, but then again, maybe I am.
I should be happy with Carrick. I am happy with Carrick. Yet one stupid, uncharacteristically short text from Taylor, and I’m sucked back in again.