Chapter Three

BASED on what Ethan had said about the man Carter had seen the previous night being his father, Carter guessed that the woman he now faced in Ethan’s doorway was Ethan’s mother. “Um. Mrs. Hart?” Carter took a chance at her family name being the same as the one on the mailbox. He thrust the vase he’d clutched to his chest toward her. “Hello. I’m Carter Stevenson. Your new neighbor.” After spending the afternoon feeling like shit, he’d rehearsed his apology and cut out words that would give him trouble. No hard sounds, no unnecessary fillers to stumble over.

“Liz.” She offered a hand. Carter shook it. He dug his foot against the wooden porch floor to feel connection top and bottom. “I believe it’s customary for us to bring something to the new neighbor, not the other way around.” She looked amused as she lifted the vase away. Carter had found daisies in his backyard. He thought they were daisies; he wasn’t positive.

“They’re for Ethan.” Her expression changed. She looked at Carter with measured caution. “To say sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Although she was a small woman, she now blocked the entire doorway.

“I did something stupid today at the coffee shop. I insulted him. I didn’t mean to.” He stumbled over a few words and finished the sentence staring at her feet, face burning. When he looked up, she gave him a sympathetic smile, which didn’t make him feel any better.

“He’s in his room. I’ll ask if he wants to talk to you.” She stepped back to allow him in, returning the flowers to Carter. “Why don’t you hold onto these? You can give them to him yourself.”

He took the flowers back. “Thank you.” Liz left him to wait in the foyer. Maybe it was stupid to bring flowers, but he hadn’t been able to think of anything else. With the kitchen boxed up, he couldn’t cook. However, his culinary skills still left a lot to be desired when he had everything he needed to hand. He set the vase down on a side table rather than risk dropping it.

“Carter?”

He looked up from arranging the flowers to see Liz had returned. Ethan stood behind her. His distinguished-looking red silk pajamas with a button-up top were incongruous with his sulky expression. He clutched the front of his shirt and stared at the floor.

“Is it all right if I talk to Ethan alone?” Carter asked. Asking felt wrong, but he didn’t want to lay himself out with an audience.

“Ethan? Is it okay with you to talk to Carter alone?” Liz asked.

“Yeah.”

Liz squeezed Ethan’s shoulder and walked away.

“Ethan. What I said before, about being a freak—”

“I’m not a freak.”

“No, you aren’t. I meant that I feel like one sometimes. People get frustrated with me too because of my stuttering. And I get frustrated with myself, because I’ve got this condition called—” He hesitated; it was still hard to confess it; if he didn’t give it a name, he wouldn’t confirm there was this thing wrong with him. Ethan looked like he was about to walk away. “Tourette’s,” Carter said, reaching into the air for Ethan, but stopping short of touching him. “It’s called Tourette’s Syndrome, and it makes it so I can’t control what my body does. Well, I can a little, but not for long, and only sometimes.” Ethan didn’t respond. Carter hoped he wasn’t making things worse between them. “I guess I got excited because I’m not used to meeting people who can relate to me.”

“I don’t do that like you.”

“I know. But I thought…. People yell at me too, is all I meant. So I know how that feels.”

“Oh.” Ethan didn’t walk away; Carter figured that was a good sign.

“I want to say sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. These are for you.” He motioned to the vase.

Ethan squinted at them. “Why did you bring me flowers?”

“To apologize.”

He leaned toward them with cautious interest. “What kind are they?”

“Daisies, I think.”

“Oh.” Straightening up, Ethan rocked on his heels.

“Well, I should probably go.”

“I can see you,” Ethan said. His voice was strong, dangerous in its intensity.

“Okay.” Carter almost cowered before the steady gaze Ethan turned on him. Staring people made him want to fold in on himself. He clamped down on his tics, even though controlling them all at once was an ever-futile endeavor.

“I can see your music.”

“My music?” Carter repeated.

Ethan nodded. He jerked his arms in precise imitation of Carter’s tics. Carter forced himself to watch. He deserved the mockery after what he’d done to Ethan. Ethan looked delighted though, as he added a small kick. “No one can see my music. It’s in my brain, and sometimes it’s in the clouds. But yours is in your whole body.” He dropped his arms to his sides. “I like watching you.”

“Oh.” Ethan’s revelation knocked the wind out of Carter. He filled with a new embarrassment, this one flushed and pleased. “Do you want to come over sometime? I have a guitar. I could play for you.” He rushed the invitation out before he could remind himself that he never played for strangers.

“Right now?” Ethan looked thrilled.

Carter hesitated; Ethan’s enthusiasm wouldn’t let him refuse. “Okay.”

“I’ll go tell Mom.” Ethan hurried off, leaving Carter to wonder what he’d just done. He’d opened his house to the guy he’d insulted, a guy who had just made him feel amazing and, for the first time ever, proud of his body’s betrayal. Ethan returned with Liz.

“I’m going to get dressed,” Ethan said. Smiling, he trotted deeper into the house.

“Elliot’s in his room. Ask him for help if you need it,” Liz said.

“Okay,” Ethan yelled back.

“Elliot?” Carter asked.

“My younger son. He’s fifteen.”

“Oh.”

“Well, Ethan seems fond of you,” Liz said. “Thank you for inviting him over.”

“Does he get invited many places?”

Liz laughed. “His social life puts mine to shame. It’s surprising he didn’t have plans already, actually. Send him home by seven. That’s dinner time.”

“No problem. Is there anything I need to know about… anything?” Carter asked, uncertain how to word his question.

“So, you’ve noticed Ethan is a little different.”

“Yeah.” Carter wanted to ask what was wrong with him, but he didn’t want to say it like that because as far as Carter could see, there was nothing wrong with Ethan. Carter had been the one to act like an ass.

“Ethan was hit by a car a little less than ten years ago. He suffered a traumatic brain injury as a result.”

“I’m sorry.”

Liz waved his sympathy away and smiled as if she needed to comfort him. “It’s been a slow road through his recovery, but he’s the same person with a few alterations. Still my sweet boy.”

The knot in Carter’s chest loosened. “He is, yeah, he is a pretty sweet guy.”

“Ready.” Ethan returned wearing jeans and a red T-shirt with a drawing on it of two monkeys holding hands inside a pink heart. He crouched beside the door and slipped his shoes on, laces already tied.

“Kiss, Buddy,” Liz said.

Ethan turned his cheek toward her for a peck. Liz opened the door for them. “Have fun.”

As Ethan hopped alongside him on the sidewalk asking about Carter’s guitar, Carter decided that no question about it, he’d done the right thing in apologizing. He couldn’t imagine having such a loving person as Ethan upset over something he’d done.

ETHAN was never happier, not in his whole life. Carter’s music was amazing on his guitar. Ethan sat on the couch while Carter sat in a chair, but as Carter kept playing, Ethan scooted closer and closer until he sat at Carter’s feet. He bet if he told Carter about his music, like he heard it in his head, Carter could play it. Ethan closed his eyes and swayed. When he opened them, Carter was grinning at him. Ethan grinned back. It was good to enjoy music with someone, especially someone as cute as Carter. He had short brown hair that stuck up in the back, like Ethan’s did when he was younger, and freckles over his nose—Ethan had freckles everywhere; he didn’t care for his much, but he liked Carter’s—and strong arms. Ethan watched Carter’s biceps as he played.

“Keep singing,” Carter said. “You’re really good.”

Ethan hadn’t realized he was singing, but it was one of his favorite things to do. At Temple, he liked to sing with the congregation and he always sang around the house. His favorite song right now was “Firework” by Katy Perry. He didn’t get the words right all the time, especially on fast songs because he needed to think about them—not only what the words were but also how to make them with his mouth.

“I don’t know the words,” Ethan said. He’d been singing “la.”

“This song doesn’t have words yet.” Carter kept strumming as he talked.

“So I can make them up?”

“If you want.”

Ethan thought about it. Music carried him away most of the time. If he closed his eyes and followed it, he usually came up with something. He tried it. “Singing with Carter and he’s got his guitar, singing with Carter like the cool dudes we are.”

Carter chuckled. “That’s good. Keep going.”

Ethan grinned. He liked this too. “Carter’s got a cool name and he’s a cool guy. Making music with him is pretty all right.”

Carter mouthed “Thanks,” and laughed, so Ethan sang more. Carter scooted to the edge of the chair as he played, so near to the lip that Ethan thought he would fall off. Carter closed his eyes, just like Ethan had, and swayed his head like he was thinking of something wonderful. Ethan sang his best for him. When he ran out of words, he repeated verses.

“Making music with him is pretty all right.” Ethan belted out the end of the song as Carter made the guitar wail with passion that Ethan felt deep in his gut. It was like the music he always had inside him had married to the music he always heard outside and settled in him and exploded. It was amazing and wonderful and so overwhelming he didn’t know what to do. He sat on his heels, panting, and stared at Carter.

Carter’s lips were open like he was breathless too. He put the guitar down and vaulted off the chair, but Ethan didn’t understand what was happening until Carter landed in his lap and put his hands in Ethan’s hair. Carter was warm and heavy, but he felt so nice. Ethan grabbed Carter’s back as Carter’s mouth touched his. Carter kissed him. Ethan felt great all over, from his hands to his mouth to his belly and definitely his penis. He kissed Carter back, hearing Carter say Ethan’s name, which sounded great!

But then Carter stopped kissing him and flung himself backward like Ethan was a hot oven. Ethan touched his mouth. Carter’s spit wetted his lips. Ethan watched Carter’s chest rise and fall as Carter made deep breaths. Ethan felt warm too, like he needed a glass of water.

“Ethan, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have duh, shouldn’t have duh duh….” Carter scrambled to his feet. He scratched words like Elliot’s CD that Ethan had dropped at the pool scratched music when he played it afterward, and his face scrunched up. Ethan wanted to hug him because he looked upset, but he was across the room. “…done that,” Carter forced out. It was the first time he’d had trouble with words since Ethan came over. It was still music, but he could tell Carter didn’t like that kind, so Ethan didn’t like it either.

“I saw you with your shirt off when you moved in and my penis got hard and I made semen,” Ethan blurted. He clamped his hands over his mouth. Carter’s mouth hung open. His jaw wagged a few times before he closed it. Ethan wrapped his arms around his chest to protect himself from the coming reaction. “I’m not supposed to say that to people.” He stood up, even though he felt dizzy. If he went to hide in the bathroom, there wasn’t anyone to come in and comfort him this time. “I’m sorry.”

Carter came toward him. Ethan flinched when Carter touched his arms. Instead of making him look him in the eyes like Dad would do, Carter stepped back. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I’m not supposed to tell people when I do that. It’s okay in private, but I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“Ethan. You can talk about it to me.”

Ethan looked at Carter through a side glance, not ready to face him full-on. “You don’t mind that I made semen because of you?”

Ethan never saw anybody turn red like that. It took over Carter’s skin color from his neck up to his ears. “I… I… I….” Carter squeezed his eyes shut, but the music in him flung his hands into the air.

“You’re really cute,” Ethan said. “And I like you a lot. I knew I would as soon as I saw you.”

Carter opened his eyes. “I like… like you too, but this is a lot to tuh-t-take in right now. Can I….” He stomped his feet, one two, but the carpet muffled the sound. “Can I walk you home? It’s almost seven anyway.”

“We’re still friends?” If they weren’t, Ethan didn’t know what he’d do.

“Yes.” Carter smiled and his arms swung loose from where he’d crossed them over his chest.

“Okay.” Ethan shouldn’t have worried. Carter had brought him flowers. Of course they were still friends. Friends forever.

AT ETHAN’S home, Carter declined Liz’s offer of a glass of lemonade and, with more regret, fresh-from-the-oven cookies. Ethan forgot Carter existed and hurtled toward the kitchen the moment he smelled them, so leaving was no problem. Carter slipped out as soon as he could. He almost wanted to tell Liz he’d kissed Ethan, but what was he going to say? “I kissed your brain-damaged son, is that all right with you?” He fled before he could betray his nerves.

Keeping the secret to himself, he went back home. Later, he called Alice as he unpacked his music books and unearthed his box of DVDs. “I never met anyone with brain damage,” she said. “I mean, not anyone I spent more than a few minutes with. I don’t know what to tell you. Is he, like, I mean, did you feel like you took advantage of him?”

“He kissed me back,” Carter said, which was the best answer he could give. He’d been going back and forth on that question since the kiss happened. Ethan had seemed to like it, but even in the short time Carter had known him he could tell that Ethan lacked impulse control, and “liking” something and “understanding” it were two different things. Stop it, he scolded himself. He’d known Ethan for a single afternoon. It wasn’t any of his business to decide Ethan’s capacity for understanding Carter’s reasoning when he threw himself at him, especially not if it meant judging Ethan. Hell, Carter hardly understood what he’d done.

“Oh.” Alice sounded equally dissatisfied. “Did you kiss him because of your TS?”

“I lost control. I don’t know if I can blame it on the Tourette’s. I wanted to kiss him.”

“What about that tic phase when you were grabbing people?”

“Never got a hard-on from that. Almost got a black eye, though.”

Alice laughed. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You’re a load of help.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll figure it out. I guess I’ll talk to his mother.”

“You’re going to tell her what happened?” It was hard to tell if Alice sounded scandalized or enthusiastic.

“No way. I’m just going to ask her about him. You know, as Ethan’s new friend.” He lay down on the floor. “Say something to make me feel better.”

“Ethan might have told her already.”

Carter dug his fingers into the carpet. The ceiling fan whirred overhead, soothing the shock away. “Not helping. So not helping.”