Chapter Four

 

AN IMPATIENT flurry of doorbell rings dragged Carter from the kitchen, where he was contemplating his coffeemaker, to the front door. Opening it, he found a sullen-faced teenage boy standing on his doorstep. He wore a sleeveless shirt, and his shoulders were a furious red under the midmorning sun. He didn’t wait for Carter to speak. “We’re going to the beach today. You wanna come? My mom said I had to ask you.”

Carter, half-asleep, leaned out the door to see if the boy’s mother was waiting in a car, but the street was clear. Maybe this was a neighborhood gathering and the boy was going door to door. He showed no inclination to introduce himself. “I guess?” Carter said.

“We leave at three. Bring your own towel.” The boy turned to go. Halfway down the sidewalk he turned back and yelled, “If you want me to mow your lawn, it’s thirty-five dollars. I did it for the last people.”

“I’ll think about it,” Carter said.

“Whatever.” He stepped off the sidewalk and trudged across the grass toward Ethan’s house and up the steps to the porch. He must be the younger brother. Elliot. Of course. He didn’t look much like Ethan, but Carter saw the resemblance between him and Liz. Which meant he’d just agreed to go to the beach with the Hart family.

Well. He wondered where ogling Ethan in a swimsuit fell in the space between being attracted to him and questioning if he’d taken advantage of him. As he closed the door, he hoped to God that Ethan hadn’t told anyone what had happened. Feeling guilty, he pushed the thought away. If Ethan wanted to tell someone, he should. Carter was embarrassed, that was all.

He spent the rest of the morning unpacking to find his swimsuit. He looked forward to the afternoon in equal parts of dread and anticipation.

 

 

ETHAN dropped his sweatpants into the laundry basket in his closet. After pulling his swim trunks from the labeled box on the shelf in front of him, he sat on his bed to pull them on. He checked that the knot at his waist was tied and stood up. On his desk, he had his beach supplies laid out according to a list that he kept in a pocket of his beach bag. He placed them one by one inside it. Towel, shirt and shorts, sunglasses, sunscreen, iPod with earbuds, and a well-read paperback copy of The Complete Sherlock Holmes. The sand toys stayed downstairs in the mudroom to be grabbed on the way to the car. Ethan checked each item again. All present. Bag zipped, Ethan stepped away from the desk. He turned sideways in front of the mirror and sucked his stomach in. He didn’t think he was fat, but Elliot teased him about it sometimes. Ethan figured Elliot was jealous because even “fat” Ethan had more sex than Elliot. Two weeks ago, a cute guy had told Ethan he had a nice package, and then they’d had sex. That guy hadn’t said anything about Ethan being pudgy, except for praising Ethan’s fat cock.

Someone behind Ethan cleared his throat. Ethan turned away from the mirror and saw Carter standing in his doorway. Carter looked great! He wore Bermuda shorts and a pair of flip-flops. His T-shirt said “Chris Isaak” and had a guitar on it. It was tight across his chest, so Ethan could tell Carter had broad, strong muscles, even though he was a small guy. He hoped Carter would take his shirt off at the beach.

“Hi!” Hurrying over, Ethan gave Carter a hug. Carter felt warm, probably because he’d been outside. The back of his neck was red, like a sunburn, but it faded when Ethan let go.

“Your mom said you were up here. Can I come in?” Carter asked. He tapped the doorjamb twice, treating it with his music. Ethan liked that Carter brought his music into his room.

“Yeah. Do you like my room?” Ethan picked his shirt up off his bed and pulled it on. It was green like his swim trunks.

“It’s great.” Carter came in and sat down on the bed. Ethan thought about what he wanted to show Carter first, but Carter looked serious and it made Ethan feel shy. He looked for his favorite CD in his desk because Carter would like that.

“Do you have everything you need for the beach?” Carter asked.

“Yes.” Ethan only paid half-attention to the question. He was always in charge of his things, but people still asked.

“I was just making conversation. I wasn’t asking to check up on you or anything.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Carter started humming. It sounded nice. Ethan hummed too. He liked having a friend he could sing with. He turned around with his CD and kissed Carter on the lips.

Carter pushed Ethan away with his hands on Ethan’s shoulders. He didn’t push hard, but Ethan got the point. Carter didn’t want to be kissed, even though Carter had kissed him yesterday, and they’d been singing together then. He backed away and stood with his arms crossed. He wanted Carter to go, but then Carter twitched his neck. Ethan counted five twitches in total. Ethan tapped out the rhythm on his leg. Then he looked at Carter’s face and it was scrunched up and miserable.

“Are you okay?” Ethan glanced at the door. Maybe Mom would know what to do.

“I’m fuh… f-fine. Just guh-g-give me a second.” Carter squeezed his eyes shut until the twitches stopped. Sweat that hadn’t been there before glistened on Carter’s forehead. He wiped it away with his arm. “Ethan, yesterday, I shouldn’t have kissed you. I got carried away and I’m sorry.”

“I liked that you kissed me,” Ethan said.

Carter wiped his face. “You did?”

Sitting beside him, Ethan touched Carter’s leg. “Yeah.”

Carter slapped the bed sheet. Ethan jumped, but it was Carter’s music coming out when Carter didn’t want it to. He shoved his hand under his leg. Ethan chewed his lip. Maybe if Carter understood him, they could kiss again. “When I was eighteen, I was rollerblading and a car hit me.” Ethan didn’t like to talk about it because it gave people expectations that he would get back to how he used to be if he tried hard enough. “I had therapy,” he said, in order to cut Carter’s thoughts off from going in that direction, “for a long time, but I don’t anymore. This is how I am now.”

“Well, I like you the way you are,” Carter said.

“You would have liked me Before too.” He was protective of his old self—what little he could remember—even if it was like thinking of a different person.

“I’m sure I would have,” Carter said. He pulled his hand from beneath his leg. It sat quiet on his knee. “Ethan, do you think we’re boyfriends?”

“You kissed me.” Let Carter try to deny that.

“Being someone’s boyfriend is more complicated than that.”

“I like you.” People always made things more difficult than they were.

“I like you too,” Carter said.

Ethan uncrossed his arms, but only because it was easier to make fists if they were at his side. “It’s not complicated.”

“Ethan—”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend or not?”

“We just met. I like you, I do. I want to be your friend. Okay?”

Ethan stared at the wallpaper border that ran along the wall beneath the ceiling. It was deep blue and it had stars that glowed at night. Carter made little noises like click click with his tongue. “You’ll still play guitar for me? And I can sing?”

“Yes. But no kissing.”

“Okay I guess.” He’d rather have that than nothing at all, but he wasn’t going to be happy about it.

“Do you want to know a secret? Since you told me about your accident?”

“Okay.” Ethan couldn’t imagine what secret Carter might have.

“Yesterday, when I played for you, that was the first time I’ve played for anyone I just met in a long time.”

“Really?” Ethan couldn’t believe that. Carter had been so good.

“It’s true. I don’t like to do it, but I liked playing for you. My parents are really into music; that’s why I’m named Carter. It’s after—”

“The Carter Family,” Ethan said.

“Uh, yeah.” Carter’s slow smile spread across his face. “How’d you know?”

“My parents are into music too. And I have a lot of friends who play. You’ll meet them today.”

Carter nodded. He seemed to be thinking it over. “Okay. Cool.” Ethan slapped him on the back. Today was going to be fun.

“You boys come on, it’s almost time to go!” Mom called from downstairs.

“Coming!” Picking up his beach bag, Ethan walked out the door, leaving Carter to follow.

 

 

WHILE Ethan went into the bathroom, Carter wandered downstairs. He found Ethan’s parents in the kitchen. His father stood in front of the counter with a spread of sandwich fixings on it.

“Looks good,” Carter said.

Liz finished pouring lemonade into a cooler. “Hi, Carter. We like to take a picnic.”

“Do you need any help?”

“You could get the chips out of the cupboard.” She pointed.

“So you’re Carter. Nice to meet you.” Ethan’s father wiped his hand on his Bermuda shorts and held it out for a shake. Whereas dark-haired and small-boned Elliot favored Liz, Ethan was the spitting image of his father: tall, broad-shouldered, and high cheekbones behind otherwise soft features and that same vibrant red hair; however, Mr. Hart’s was a lighter shade.

“Hello, Mr. Hart,” Carter said. Despite the precaution, Mr. Hart’s hand retained a faint whiff of deli meats that transferred to Carter.

“Call me Nolan. We grew up in the sixties and have the pictures to prove it.”

“And some of the same clothes,” Liz said. “Although Ethan wears them now.”

“Sorry,” Carter said. “Where I’m from, we always go with ‘mister’ and ‘miss’, no matter how old we are.”

“Where’s that?” Nolan asked.

“Tennessee.” He lowered his hand under the dining counter that separated them and snuck out a few twitches as Nolan and Liz examined him.

“You don’t have an accent,” Liz said.

“Well, my puh-par-parents are from Illinois and they didn’t really want me to have one, so I guess I got drilled a lot on s-sounding more general Mi-mi-midwestern.” Under their scrutiny he couldn’t relax enough to speak.

Nolan and Liz nodded at him as if he were the most interesting person in the world. He twitched from his shoulders down to his wrists. “I don’t know if, in case you’re wondering about why I, there’s nothing wrong with me, I have, um….” He couldn’t stop babbling. He had to be red with embarrassment from the verbal spatter coming out of his mouth. Just say the word. “The twitching and, I, um.”

“You have Tourette’s. We know.” Carter sagged in relief when Liz saved him from saying it.

“Ethan told you?”

“I’m a teacher,” Liz said. “I see it more often than you’d think.”

Carter sucked his lip trying to calm down. It was always fucking nerve-racking to talk about. Moments like this happened so rarely that they left him just as winded, although from relief rather than stress. “Um. About those chips?”

“In the cupboard behind you,” Liz said. Carter bent to get them, glad for the chance to escape examination.

“Are you a turkey man or roast beef?” Nolan asked.

“Turkey, please,” Carter said. “With mustard.”

“Coming right up.”

Carter opened up the cabinet door. Each shelf had several typed labels on its edge that delineated the items above it. The chips sat in their appointed spot. Carter pulled the bag down.

“Where’s Ethan?” Liz asked. She took the bag.

“He’s in the bathroom. Um, there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” Liz and Nolan shared a glance. Sometimes the secret language of couples made Carter jealous; sometimes it made him hurt. Carter took a breath. He could get through his embarrassing confession if he dove right in. “Last night when Ethan was over, I was playing my guitar and he started singing and… I kissed him.” Carter stared at the counter, waiting for the justified outrage to come.

“We know,” Nolan said.

Carter looked up. “You do?”

“He told us last night.”

“You aren’t angry?”

Nolan put the butter knife down. “Honestly? We’re glad you came to talk to us. It shows you’re a good person, and we appreciate that. As much as we want to, we can’t control our sons’ lives, so it’s good to know you’re a friend who is concerned for Ethan’s well-being.”

Carter let this sink in. “I didn’t mean to do it. I got carried away. He really was, I mean last night, we were having such a good time, and happy, and I wanted to share it, I guess. I’m so, so sorry. I swear to you it won’t happen again.” Liz and Nolan regarded him with twin expressions of amusement. It was as far away from Carter’s expectations as possible.

“You know, Carter,” Liz said after a beat, “Ethan is a twenty-seven-year-old man. He’s sexually active.”

“But he’s not—” Her expression stopped him from carrying that thought further.

“A lot of people ask what his mental age is, but we don’t like to think in those terms. He looks at situations in black and white, and he needs help finding gray areas and navigating through them. Some physical and mental things he does pretty well, but there are a lot of things he needs assistance with, and some he can’t do at all. He has feelings that are more astute than anyone I know. He deserves to be loved by someone who understands that he lives in a world of absolutes when all around him nothing is certain, because it’s scary for him, and he needs to be cared for. We’ll be honest with you, Carter. He hasn’t had much luck finding the right person yet.”

Nolan nodded as Liz spoke. “We’ve had to lecture him a few times about having sex. He tends to think that if he’s got an erection and the other boy is cute and willing, sex is a good idea. We’ve hammered into him that he has to use condoms and be in a private place, but it’s difficult to make him understand that horniness is not the end-all excuse to have sex.” He paused. “Actually, we have the same problems getting Elliot to understand that. Must be a boy thing.” Nolan and Liz shared a chuckle. Nolan turned back to Carter. “Does Ethan think you’re dating now?”

“He did.”

“I can sit down with him.”

“No, I… I already did. We straightened it out. I think he’s upset with me, but he agreed we could still be friends.”

“He did speak highly of you last night.”

Carter’s hand flew out from his side to smack his shoulder.

“Not about the kiss, although I understand that was quite a moment,” Nolan said.

“Oh God.” Carter buried his face in his hands in a futile attempt to muffle his embarrassment.

Nolan laughed. Liz smacked him on the back of the head. He brushed her away and squeezed her hand. “We’re glad you told us,” Nolan said. “And we are glad that you’re Ethan’s friend, in whatever capacity that might take.”

Carter’s eyes stung. Liz held the cooler out. “Why don’t you take this to the van? We’ll round up Ethan and Elliot.”

Grateful, Carter escaped before he lost himself to emotion. He sat in the Harts’ minivan alone, trying to figure out what the heck had happened. He and Ethan were still friends, even if Ethan was upset. Ethan’s parents hadn’t come after him; they’d endorsed him. Now they were all going to the beach. Too preoccupied for control, he gave himself over to a barrage of tics. He wrapped his arms around himself when he finished, needing the feeling of being held together and having his limbs tucked in close to his body again.

The Harts emerged from the house in friendly chaos. Elliot came first, alone, hands shoved in his pockets and earbuds in his ears. He didn’t hold the door, but Liz caught it and said something to him Carter couldn’t hear. Elliot turned and shrugged. He ignored Carter when he got into the van and climbed into the backseat where he pulled his phone from his pocket. Liz took the front passenger seat.

“Doing okay?” Twisting around, she patted Carter’s leg.

“Yeah.” Nolan and Ethan’s arrival interrupted further conversation. Ethan crowded in next to Carter as Nolan got into the driver’s seat.

“You’re going to help with the sand castle, right?” Ethan asked. “We always make one.”

“Ethan, let us get on the road before you hit Carter with your plans,” Nolan said.

“You’ll help, right?” Ethan repeated.

Carter glanced at Nolan, who gave a small shrug, not dissimilar to Elliot’s from a few moments earlier. “Yeah, I’ll help.”

“You can carry water. We have a pail.”

“Okay.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been to the beach?” Liz asked.

“Too long,” Ethan said.

“I was asking Carter.”

“Oh.”

“I went once last year,” Carter said.

“This beach is good,” Ethan said. “You’ll like it.”

It was an hour’s drive to get there. Along the way, Ethan laid out his plan for the sand castle, so by the time they arrived everyone had a job toward its achievement. They parked and headed down to the beach. Carter helped Liz and Elliot carry beach bags and towels. Ethan stood beside the van with his sunglasses and hat on as Nolan rubbed a streak of sunscreen on his nose. Reaching out, he caught Elliot too.

“Dad!” Elliot faux-slapped his hand away.

“Carter?” Nolan held the bottle out.

“Thanks.” Carter reached for it. At the last second, Nolan yanked the bottle away and swiped Carter’s nose, leaving a dollop on the bridge. Carter froze, uncertain what to do at the unexpected familiarity. Liz, Nolan, and Ethan’s smiles were infectious, so Carter gave into them and laughed. Elliot stood off to one side with his phone.

“Sorry,” Nolan said, amused, and tossed Carter the sunscreen. Carter rubbed it on his face and ears and dropped it into the bag he was carrying. Ready at last, they walked toward the beach. At the pavement’s end, Ethan took Nolan’s arm.

Carter hadn’t noticed Ethan’s limp before. Granted, they’d only walked on the pavement between their houses, but on the sand it was obvious. Ethan held onto Nolan and tottered across the uneven drifts like a duckling. He chose the place to stop, a patch of sand a few yards away from the ocean.

Taking the beach toy bag, Ethan handed out items. He gave a plastic spade to Elliot and a bucket to Carter. Nolan and Liz spread their towels out.

“We’re going to enjoy the sun first,” Liz said. “We’ll help with the castle later.”

“You said you’d help, though,” Ethan said.

“We will,” Nolan said. “You boys get started without us. Mom and I need a little quiet time.”

“Ethan, come on,” Elliot said. “You have to show me where you want the corners.”

“Well, okay I guess. As long as you help later.” Ethan looked disappointed, but he turned back to the area he’d set out. Elliot was already on his knees digging out the perimeter. Kneeling opposite him, Ethan indicated how far it should go. Carter got down to work on his assignment as water delivery boy with Ethan’s bright pink bucket (“The only one the store had left when I got it,” Liz confided. “It was a buy-or-face-the-meltdown situation.”).

Liz and Nolan pitched in after the walls reached four inches in height. By five o’clock, they had a moat and four seven inch high walls, and Ethan had started the first turret.

“My stomach’s rumbling,” Nolan said. “Time to eat?”

“I’m hungry.” Ethan rubbed his belly.

Clapping his hands, Nolan rose. “Let’s go eat!”

There was a picnic area up the beach. Ethan went over to a couple nearby to ask them to watch the sand castle while he was away. After gaining their promise, he returned. Instead of taking Nolan’s arm, he stood next to Carter and looked at him expectantly until Carter held his elbow out like Nolan had. Grinning, Ethan looped his arm through. “This might be hard because you’re short, but I need you for balance, not to hold me up or anything.”

“I’m not short; you’re tall,” Carter said. He’d taken his shirt off, but Ethan still wore his. It brushed against Carter’s skin as they walked. Reaching out with his free hand, Carter grabbed a bit of loose fabric. He let go before he could decide if the movement had been a tic or something he’d wanted to do. Ethan grabbed his hand back and put it on his stomach.

“It’s okay if you want.”

“Sorry.” Carter took his hand away. “Your shirt was tickling me.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ethan didn’t speak for a few minutes as they continued their slow trek to the picnic tables. Then he stopped and pulled Carter in even closer until their foreheads touched. “Can I show you something?”

“Sure.” Glancing up the beach, Carter saw the others a fair distance away. Ethan pointed to the sky.

“Look.”

Carter looked. The sun had moved off its midday highpoint to begin its descent. The sky was a pale blue with broad clouds spaced among it.

“Can you hear it?” Ethan asked.

Realizing what was happening, Carter paused. Ethan was sharing his gift with him, his ability to hear music in everything. He stared up at the clouds. “Show me how.”

“It’s in between,” Ethan said. “Listen for the spaces.”

Carter closed his eyes. He listened to the wind and the ocean. And then, there, in the space between the water lapping the coast and the seagulls’ cries, he heard it. Silence. And in the silence, anything. Infinite possibility. Grabbing Ethan, he opened his eyes. “I heard it.”

Ethan’s eyes grew wide. “What did it sound like to you?”

“It sounded like… everything.” He yelped in surprise when Ethan pulled him into a hug.

“I knew you’d understand. It’s because you’ve got your own music.” Breaking away, he patted Carter’s chest. “People who don’t have it, they don’t understand. But that’s the problem.” Ethan took his arm again and started walking. “Everyone has their own music; they just don’t realize it. But you do.” He grinned at Carter.

“I didn’t until you showed me,” Carter said. “Thank you.”

“I knew it was in you, that’s why I liked you from when I saw you. And you’re cute too.”

Carter hid his embarrassment behind a cough as Ethan beamed at him. “Ethan, we’re just friends, remember?”

“Yeah.” Ethan’s smile didn’t falter. “There aren’t any rules against saying you’re cute, are there?”

“No. I guess not. Okay.” To disguise his embarrassment, Carter gave Ethan a light punch on his arm. “Good.”

The picnic area was near a caravan where Ethan knew everyone, if the number of jubilant shout-outs to him was anything to go by. “Horatio!” Ethan yelled out to a tall chest-tatted thirty-something man with dreads and a goatee who came over for a hug. He had a waifish teenage Asian boy plastered to his side. “Hey, Frankie!” Ethan said to the boy. “You have to meet Carter!” Ethan hugged Horatio and Frankie at once. From a safe distance away from the full-throttle greeting, Carter stuck his hand up. Frankie gave Carter an impish smile and Ethan a kiss on the cheek, which made Ethan red with blustery delight. Horatio greeted the rest of Ethan’s family with familiarity and soon tucked into the spread with them. Frankie squeezed up to the table next to Carter.

“Hey man, you surf?”

“No.”

Carter expected the conversation would end there, but Frankie looked aghast. He placed a comforting hand on Carter’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. You will.”

Before Carter could assure him that he was quite fine on the land, thank you, a trio of women landed on Ethan and smothered him in kisses. Jules, Sal and Rolla, hastily introduced, dragged lawn chairs over. As Liz handed out sandwiches, Carter understood why the family had brought two picnic baskets. He wanted to make a joke about Jesus feeding the masses, but Ethan had told him his family was Jewish after noticing Carter’s Bible, so he didn’t know if they’d be familiar with the reference.

Ethan sat down next to Carter. He opened his sandwich and spread chips over the meat. Carter showed him that he’d done the same. They shared a secret smile. Secret until Ethan announced that Carter ate his sandwich with chips too, and Carter had to laugh.

“What’s funny?” Ethan asked.

“You even make sandwiches exciting.”

Ethan looked puzzled, but he smiled.

After dinner, it was back to the sand castle. The tide had washed out part of it, but Ethan simply started over. Carter hauled four more buckets before he collapsed onto a towel. “I’m done,” he said.

“Okay.” Ethan picked up the bucket and began the slow walk to the water.

“Ethan.”

“Let him go,” Elliot said. It sounded like a warning, so Carter scooted over to help scoop out the moat as he watched Ethan from the corner of his eye. Ethan returned with the bucket three-quarters full, having sloshed out some of it, and beaming with pride.

“Next time you do it,” he said to Elliot.

“Whatever.” But when the time came, Elliot made the trip without being asked.

“The water’s cold,” Ethan said. “See?” From his sprawled position, he held up a pink foot.

Not thinking, Carter pulled it into his lap and rubbed. Ethan jerked like he was ticklish. “Sorry.” Carter let him go, but Ethan plopped the other one down. His toes were painted dark blue. Carter hadn’t noticed them before. He wondered if Ethan had done them himself.

“Do this one.”

Carter put on his best annoyed face, which made Ethan laugh. “Fine,” Carter said. “So, who were those people we saw at lunch?”

“My friends.” He didn’t elaborate, but as Carter was learning, with Ethan there were no qualifiers. Those people were his friends, pure and simple. He dug his thumbs into the sole of Ethan’s foot, which was a good three sizes bigger than Carter’s, not that he was thinking about those implications, not even when Ethan tossed his head back and moaned. Carter hurried to switch to another motion… one less loud.

Elliot returned with the water. He cast a glare at Carter. “Ethan. Thought you wanted to do the sandcastle.”

“I’m having my feet rubbed,” Ethan said.

Carter prepared to say that they should stop because Elliot was making him uncomfortable, but Elliot pivoted to put his back to them and continued working on the castle. Carter returned his concentration to Ethan’s feet. Despite his brother being a few inches away, Ethan’s moans didn’t lose any volume. Elliot put his earbuds in and pointedly turned up his music.

“Oh, he loves having his feet rubbed,” Liz said. Carter, already tense from Elliot, almost shoved Ethan’s foot away as she came up behind them like a beach ninja, but she leaned down and ruffled Ethan’s hair. “Hey.”

Ethan looked at her with a dreamy smile. “Want to stay here all day, Mom.”

“It’s getting cold, Buddy. It’s time to get a shower and put your clothes back on.”

“Mom….”

“Dad’s setting up a campfire.” Liz cut off Ethan’s whine. “He has a surprise for you.”

“S’mores?” Ethan asked. He sat up on his elbow, eyes bright and hopeful.

“Maybe.” Liz teased with her smile. She turned to her other son. “Elliot?”

Elliot turned around. He pulled his earbuds out. “What?”

“We’re moving to the campfire.”

“Yeah.” Looking put upon, Elliot got up. “Come on,” he said to Ethan and held out his elbow. He glanced at Carter. “You bring something to change into?”

“No,” Carter said. “I didn’t, didn’t know I nuh-n-needed to.” Elliot’s expression cemented Carter’s idea that he didn’t have a high opinion of him. “I’ll stay here and wash out the buh-buh-mm-uh-bucket and spade.”

“Whatever.”

In contrast, Ethan said, “Thanks, Carter!” and pulled Carter into an ecstatic hug. His soft chest hairs rubbed Carter’s cheek.

“Come on.” Elliot tugged Ethan away. They proceeded toward the changing facilities arm in arm. With all the bits of sharp broken shells in the sand, they navigated as if they were walking through a minefield.

Liz and Nolan began carrying everything to the car. “Do you need help?” Carter asked.

“We’re fine,” Liz assured him. After handing them the bucket and spade, Carter headed for the facilities. As he reached them, the door burst open. Elliot appeared, phone in hand. He noticed Carter and, for the first time in possibly the history of his life, appeared delighted.

“Dude. Watch my brother for me for a few minutes, all right?”

“Watch him do what?” Carter asked. As far as he knew, the only thing in there was a shower, and surely Elliot didn’t mean that.

“Just make sure he doesn’t fall down or anything. Help him with his clothes if he needs it. He likes crap with a lot of buttons for some reason.”

“Why aren’t you…?”

Elliot shook his phone. The display screen blurred with the rapid movements. “Girl. Awesome girl. Right there.” He pointed. Turning, Carter saw that indeed there was a girl. “So, you’ll watch him?”

“Are you coming back?”

“Sure. Oh and hey, don’t tell my parents all right?”

“Um.”

Elliot clapped Carter on the shoulder and ran off.

Trying not to think about earlier when he’d stood far too long in Ethan’s bedroom doorway watching Ethan with his shirt off, Carter entered the showers. Ethan stood in his underwear rubbing himself down with a beach towel with stars on it that matched the ones on his bedroom wall.

“Hi!” Ethan said, sounding so happy that Carter forgot to be embarrassed.

“Um, Elliot said to come in and see if you needed anything.”

“Oh.” Ethan’s smile fell. “Okay.”

“Ethan?”

“He doesn’t like….” Ethan motioned around his head and left the sentence unfinished.

“Oh. Well, it’s probably hard for him, I mean being a teenager and….” Carter trailed off, uncertain how to word what he wanted to say, but Ethan finished the sentence.

“Having a retard brother.”

Carter felt like he’d been punched because Ethan stood there like he hadn’t said anything devastating.

“Hey.” Carter grabbed Ethan’s arms, more for his own stability than Ethan’s. “He’s a teenager. They’re inconsiderate and selfish. He’d be that way no matter what you were like. And don’t call yourself retarded.”

Ethan brushed him away. “Fine.”

“Ethan.”

“Fine,” Ethan said again. He pulled on his shirt and reached for his pants.

Carter sat down on the bench, deflated. He stared at his hands. After a moment, Ethan’s hand appeared on top of his. “Dad makes great s’mores.”

Of course. Of course the world boiled down to chocolate and roasted marshmallows between two graham crackers. Carter cracked into jagged pieces.

Being the expert on controlling what his body wanted to do, he turned his grief into laughter.

 

 

DAD’S s’mores melted in Ethan’s mouth the second he took a bite. Closing his eyes, Ethan savored the gooey, warm chocolate-marshmallow paradise that spread over his tongue. The campfire had three gigantic logs around it in a triangle. Ethan sat between Carter and Rolla. All his friends from the caravan park had come, so he got lots of hugs. Horatio had his guitar. He played even better than Carter, but telling Carter that would be rude, so Ethan didn’t.

“Carter plays too,” Ethan said when Horatio took a break to have another s’more.

“Yeah?” Horatio had a crooked smile that always made Ethan laugh. He looked at Carter with it. Carter’s leg bounced.

“N-not in f-f-f-ront of of of puh puh—” Carter thumped his fist against his knees and his face crumpled up. Ethan had done a bad thing; he’d forgotten that Carter didn’t like playing for people he didn’t know—except he’d met Ethan’s friends at lunch, so he should be all right to play for them. He looked around to see if anyone could help, but no one did. Tears of frustration appeared in Carter’s eyes. They didn’t fall, but Ethan was close enough to see.

“We’re all friends here.” Horatio held the guitar out.

Ethan started to say that he didn’t have to, but Carter reached for it.

“Give him something to do besides twitch,” Elliot said. “Why don’t you take a pill for that?” Carter snapped his hand back. Horatio had given up his grip, and the guitar fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Carter said.

“It’s been through worse, trust me.” Horatio picked it up and held it out again.

Carter didn’t reach for it this time. “I didn’t like how the pills slowed my br—my br—brain—” He stopped talking. Ethan followed Carter’s gaze across the fire to Elliot and the girl he’d abandoned Ethan for earlier. (She wasn’t that pretty.) They were both twitching, just like Carter, but it was bad music, and the girl laughed and Elliot had a cruel smile.

“Elliot!” Dad yelled and the girl laughed harder.

“Excuse me,” Carter said. He almost fell getting up from the log and stepping over it. Ethan got up too.

“Carter?”

“I’ll be with the car.” Carter walked away.

Ethan wanted to yell and yell. He stomped over to Elliot and punched him in his stupid face. If punching girls was allowed, he’d have hit the girl too. Dad grabbed him from behind and dragged him away.

“Ethan!”

Apparently hitting Elliot wasn’t allowed either.

“He upset Carter!”

“Sit down.” Ethan did, but he glared at Elliot, who rubbed his face and whined. The stupid girl stopped smiling, finally.

Ethan ignored the ruckus as Dad looked at Elliot’s face. He speared a marshmallow and stuck it in the fire.

“Ethan.” Mom guided the stick out of the flame. “I don’t think you deserve a s’more right now, do you?”

“Yes.”

Dad pulled two beer cans from the girl’s bag. Ethan tuned out the yelling that followed.

“Ethan,” Mom said. That tone only led to bad things like being sent to his room. Ethan put the stick down. Today sucked.

Dad finished talking to Elliot. Then he told everyone to wait while he and Elliot went to talk to Carter.

“He doesn’t want to talk about it,” Ethan said. “Leave him alone.”

“Ethan, it’s important that Elliot apologize.”

Ethan stood up and blocked them. “I don’t want Elliot to talk to Carter ever again.”

“Ethan.”

“No.” Ethan would fight if he had to.

Dad sighed. “All right. But Elliot, you’ll write him a letter to apologize. Understood?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Yes, Dad.”

Dad ruffled Elliot’s hair and gently shoved him away. “Let’s get this fire put out.”

“We’ll do that,” Horatio said. “Think we’ll stay a bit longer.”

“We should go before anything else happens.” Dad sounded tired. “Should be an interesting ride home.”

“I can take Carter if you want,” Frankie said. “I have a car. I don’t mind.”

“Yes,” Ethan said, “and me too.” He looked at his parents.

Mom put her hands up. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Okay,” Dad said. “Thanks, Frankie.”

Ethan went to tell Carter. He hoped Carter would be happy.