Chapter thirty-six:
“Can I have some water?” she asks.
I nod, of course, and I go downstairs to her kitchen and I fill her only glass with water from the kitchen faucet. I go back up the stairs, and I wonder if this is all a lie again. I wonder if she is trying to lull me into a false sense of security once more. But when I go back in the bedroom, a little out of breath because I was worried and I jogged up the stairs in case she’d tried to escape again, she is still where I left her.
She’s like a doll as she stares into the empty space in front of her.
She doesn’t hear me when I sit down next to her.
She just stares and stares until she finally comes back from wherever she just was. And then she even offers me a small smile. I help her with the water, and she says thank you. And she’s using her manners now, and this is much better than how it was yesterday or the day before. This is how it should be.
“Why did you go?” I finally ask. It’s the question that I’ve wanted to know the answer to more than any other. Because it’s the one that sent me away. If she would have stayed, she could have told the truth. They wouldn’t have blamed me for everything.
She shrugs like it’s not important, but it is and I tell her so.
“I…” she begins. “I just wanted to get away from everything. From everyone.”
She looks nervous. Her eyes flit away from me. And I know that there are more secrets to be told.
“From everyone,” I say, the hurt evident in my voice.
She doesn’t deny it, and I’m glad that she’s being honest with me, even if it hurts. It means she cares enough about me to be truthful.
There’s something to be said for honesty,I think.
“From me?” I swallow down the lump in my throat after I say that, because I don’t want it to be true, but I’m not stupid. I just need to hear her acknowledge it.
“Yes, Ethan, from you too,” she agrees. And her voice isn’t hard, and her face isn’t angry. She’s soft and calm and caring—nurturing, almost, as she reaches for my hand again. “I’m sorry.”
I stroke my thumb across the back of her hand while I think. It helps to do that. It makes the pain of her words more bearable.
“Okay,” I reply, finally. “And now?” I ask.
“Now?” she replies in confusion.
“Do you want to get away from me now?” I can’t help the edge of hurt that is in my tone this time. And I don’t miss the panic flash in her eyes either. “I think we could be great together, Carrie. I think I could make you really happy. I have a job,” I say proudly. I’m desperate. I’m a desperate man, pleading with her to stay. To not run away again. To not leave me to rot like she did all those years ago. “I don’t hate you for what you did, Carrie. I hope you know that.”
Don’t go, Carrie. Stay with me, please,I’m silently begging her.
“I—” she starts, but I hear the hesitation in her voice, and while she hesitates there is still a chance.
“Please,” I rush on. “I never stopped loving you.”
“Never?” she scoffs.
“Never!” I agree. “Not once.”(maybe once)“All I cared about was that I knew you were alive, no matter what they said. But I still protected you. I never told them what I knew.” (maybe a little in desperation)I kiss the back of her hand, and I am crying now, because I can feel her slipping away from me.
Ain’t that always the way?
“It’s always been you, Carrie.”
Little puppet on her string…
“It’s only ever been you!” I plead.
She is the master of you…
“I’ve only ever wanted you. Only ever loved you!” I cry.
