I don’t look back as they drive away, but I do whisper a silent prayer that Carter won’t puke in Roberta’s Accord. Then I walk back toward the house, wrapping my cardigan tighter around me as I process a confusing mix of joy, shame, and the distinct feeling that I just did something I absolutely shouldn’t have.
Carter
Ooh baby, do I feel like a steaming pile of fecal matter or what?
I do indeed.
I shift around in bed, and an electric current of pain extends from my knee up through my thigh. Ouch. I grit my teeth and suck in air through the sides of my mouth.
My head is thumping, like someone jammed a dart into my skull just above my right eyebrow. The palms of my hands are raw, and I sort of feel like I could throw up.
“Well, seems like you had an eventful night.” The blinds rise with a dramatic zip, and the sun pours in, revealing Mom standing there. “I’m sorry I woke you, but it’s almost noon.”
“That’s okay,” I say. “I’m okay.”
“Very convincing.” Mom takes a glass of water off my dresser and hands it to me, followed by two Advil.
“Thanks.” I sit up, pop the capsules into my mouth, and slowly chug the entire glass. I don’t remember much of last night’s party. That’s a feeling I’ve gotten used to. I know I drank a fair amount of that beer I bought, and I think I... danced?
“Someone dropped you off last night,” Mom says. “You left your car at the party. That was smart. Thank you.”
“Oh.” I have no memory of this. But now that she’s said it, it does ring a bell, like the answer to an impossible trivia question that sounds more familiar than you were expecting.Ofcourseamino acids are the building blocks of protein! I totally knew that!“No prob. It didn’t, um, seem safe to drive.”
“I know you can’t really remember your past sixteens,” Mom says, “but I do feel like you’re learning. Somehow. Is that possible?”
“Maybe,” I say, though I have this feeling she’s giving me more credit than I deserve.
Then it comes to me, like a gentle smack in the face:
Maggie. Maggie Spear.
She of the blue cardigan and sparkly eyelids.
She was the one who put me in the car.
With the driver who had a female man’s name.
Johna? Michaela? Steva?
“I like to think you’re learning,” Mom says, kissing my head, and it’s one of those moments that jolts me into her point of view, how she has this son who repeats the same stupid shit every year and never evolves. And she and Dad have to somehow, in spite of that, keep supporting and loving me and being patient with me. “Come downstairs and eat something.”
“I think you’re right,” I say. “I think I am learning.”
“That would be—” Mom’s eyes get glassy like she’s about to cry. “That would be really wonderful.” She covers her face with her hand, and here come the tears.
“Do you want to, like, sit?” I ask, patting the foot of my bed. “I’m... I’m really sorry about all this.”
“No, Carter,” Mom says, accepting my offer and plopping down onto the bed. “I’msorry! I don’t want this for you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, of course I know that. You don’t have to apologize,Mom. It’s not your fault. You and Dad should be, like, empty nesters or whatever by now.”
Mom puts both arms around me and sobs over my shoulder. “Carter, we want you here as long as you need to be here.” She pulls back and looks into my eyes. “Every mom has moments where they wish their kid would freeze in time. Not like this, though. I never would have— I really don’t want this for you.”
She says it with so much intensity, it’s like she’s trying to convince me.
“I know, Mom. I really do.”
Her tears are nearly contagious, but I stifle the sob in my chest before it emerges.
