Chapter Eight

 

CARTER drove home by himself. Liz and Nolan wanted Elliot and Ethan with them for some last-minute instructions. So. A week at the Harts’. No problem. He could handle this. Elliot wasn’t that difficult; Alice would call it a learning experience, a chance to face his fears. Carter wasn’t sure where “fear of teenage boys” ranked on the scale of “things to be embarrassed about,” but he figured it was high. Never mind. Ethan needed him. That was the important thing. Being able to keep his responsibilities mattered to Ethan, and by staying with him and Elliot, Carter could help make that possible. In his house, he packed a bag with a change of clothes and his pajamas. He planned to come back during the day to work, so he could pick up more clothes then, and go night by night since Liz and Nolan hadn’t been certain of their return date.

At the last second, he grabbed his guitar off the wall and the song he and Ethan were working on. He stuck the music into a folder and the guitar into its case. Then, hooking the strap of his bag over his shoulder, he stepped out the front door and locked it. He arrived at the Harts’ porch as Nolan exited the house.

“Let me help you.” Carter reached for Nolan’s suitcase.

“You’ve got your own things. I’m fine.” Nolan gestured to the minivan with his chin. “You could get the door, though.”

“Sure.” Setting his guitar on the porch, Carter trotted back down the steps. “Everything okay with…?”

“You mean, are Curly and Moe done slapping each other?” Nolan’s smile didn’t meet his eyes. “Keep your head down.” He shoved the suitcase into the van and turned to lean against the outside. “Thanks for doing this, Carter. If we had to take them along, I think it would be miserable for all of us. We need to concentrate on Aunt Amelia getting well, and it’s not possible with those two bickering. I know they don’t mean to, but….” He rubbed his brow, pushing his mess of bangs to one side. “Neither of them is in a position mentally to recognize that there are people in the world besides themselves.”

“I don’t think you give Ethan enough credit.” Carter surprised himself with how quickly he leapt to Ethan’s defense. Nolan looked surprised too. He nodded, though with that same weariness.

“Right. I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day.” He pushed off from the side of the van. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Carter asked.

“For reminding me that I shouldn’t lump the boys together. Ethan is a very loving young man. He’s always attuned to when other people are upset. It just gets hard for him when he’s upset too, like he was today, and unfortunately no one upsets him like Elliot.”

“I don’t know anything about having a sibling,” Carter said, “but I’ve heard that that’s how it goes.” They’d reached the porch. He picked up his guitar. He’d kept his bag with him when he went to the van.

Nolan smiled, a real one this time. “Well, I do have sibling experience, and you are absolutely right.” Placing his hand on the back of Carter’s neck, he guided him inside the house. “Go on in and make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks.” Carter dropped his things near the bottom of the stairs and pushed them against the wall to be out of the way.

“You brought your guitar? I used to play.” Nolan seemed wistful.

“I only play a little. Ethan likes it.” Carter spoke quickly, as the fear that Nolan would suggest a jam session rose in him. Nolan just shook his head, still paying more attention to the black guitar case than Carter, and yelled up the stairs for Liz. “Where’s Ethan?” Carter asked.

“I think he’s making sandwiches for the road. He said he wanted to.”

“Okay.” Carter went to find him while Nolan jogged up the stairs. In the kitchen, Ethan had the bread and sandwich fixings spread out in an assembly line. One slice of bread, one slice of ham, one slice of turkey, lettuce, mayonnaise, mustard, second slice of bread. He had made two sandwiches and was almost done with a third. “Do you want me to bag them?” Carter pointed to the Ziploc bags on the edge of the counter.

Ethan looked up. “Hi!” He finished spreading mayonnaise and reached across the counter to give Carter a shoulder pat. “That would be great.” Glancing at what he’d finished, he asked, “Do you think three is enough? I was going to do five.”

“I think five is better.”

“Okay.”

Carter started bagging the ones Ethan had finished. “So, your dad said he used to play guitar?”

“He used to be on the radio,” Ethan said. He finished with the mustard and closed the new sandwich.

“Radio, like he was in a band?”

“No, he was a DJ on one of the local stations, but he quit a long time ago.” Ethan glanced up; he looked alarmed. “It wasn’t because of my accident. He told me that. It was after.”

“Oh.”

“He wanted to have more time with me.”

Carter already liked Nolan; now he liked him more knowing that Nolan had put Ethan ahead of his career. “And he probably wanted more time with Elliot,” Carter said with a smile, because Ethan still looked like he thought Carter wouldn’t believe him.

Ethan snorted. “I guess.”

“One more sandwich,” Carter said.

“Okay.”

After Carter had bagged the last one, Ethan packed them into a soft travel cooler along with two medium-size bags of chips and two bottles of water. “Is that enough?”

“Looks good to me.” When Carter drove from LA to Santa Josephina for his move, he’d done it on a bag of Fritos corn chips and a Coke.

“Where’s Elliot?”

“Downstairs.” Ethan zipped up the cooler. “I’m going to take this to the car.”

“Okay.” Carter cleaned up the kitchen while Ethan was gone. When he returned, Nolan and Liz were with him. Liz headed for Carter.

“Okay, Carter, we’re on our way out. Emergency numbers are on the refrigerator if you need them. This is my cell.” She handed him a piece of paper with a number on it. “Have fun!” Carter twitched in response to her kiss on his cheek.

“Sorry,” he said. “That wasn’t—”

She gave him a smile. “I know.” Turning, she held her arms out to Ethan. “Goodbye, honey.”

“Bye, Mom.” After hugging her, Ethan tilted his cheek to Nolan for a kiss. He got it, and a ruffle of his hair. “Bye, Dad.”

Carter walked with them to the door. Nolan stopped at the entrance to the basement to yell down at Elliot. He came up and subjected himself to hugs and kisses. Sparing an expressionless glance at Carter, Elliot then headed for the front door. Carter, Elliot, and Ethan stood on the porch together to wave Nolan and Liz on their way. Once the minivan trundled around the corner, down the long road, and out of sight, they turned to each other.

“Now what?” Carter asked. If it were just him and Ethan, they’d sit on the couch and work on their song, or Carter would play and Ethan might sing. But he felt odd doing that with Elliot there.

“I’m hungry,” Elliot said. “I haven’t eaten since lunch.” It was almost seven o’clock.

“Okay. I can handle that,” Carter said. They made cheese sandwiches for supper and ate them with carrot sticks, washed down with milk. Elliot didn’t say much, but he sat at the table with them and didn’t cast death glares at Carter, either, so Carter considered it a victory. Ethan didn’t seem to notice any tension. He kept up a running commentary about his day and Pepper the cat’s antics until Elliot cracked a smile.

“Maybe we should get a cat,” he said.

“Maybe.” Ethan seemed to give it serious consideration. “I think we should.”

“We should do it before Mom and Dad come back and surprise them,” Elliot said. Twin expressions of innocent eagerness, one genuine and one devilish, turned to Carter.

“Sure,” Carter said. “Let’s do that, and then you two can explain why you have a cat.”

“Oh.” Ethan looked disappointed. “I guess we better not do that. Sorry, El.”

Elliot, to his credit, did a good job of looking sad. “Yeah, better not.” He flashed Carter a grin, though, and it seemed almost friendly. Carter wondered if he’d passed some kind of test.

After they loaded and started the dishwasher, Elliot sat down at the dining room table with his homework. Carter found his music and took it into the living room with Ethan.

“You brought our song?” Ethan asked. He reached for it with both hands. Ethan always acted like the song was brittle. He sat on the couch next to Carter.

“Yeah.” Carter nodded toward Elliot. “I’m surprised he decided to stay out here.”

“Oh, he always does his homework at the table.” Ethan spread the song out. It was less than one page long, but they had compiled five pages of drafts. Carter went to get his guitar. Elliot had his headphones on. If he played quietly, maybe Elliot wouldn’t try to listen. He seemed focused on his own work anyway. Ethan moved closer.

“Where do you want to start?” Carter asked.

“I had another idea,” Ethan said. He hummed the new notes like a secret. Carter found them on his guitar and strummed until Ethan was satisfied they had a match. Then he painstakingly wrote them on the staff and showed it to Carter to check.

“Looks good,” Carter said. “I’ve been thinking of words for the second measure, the one we had some trouble with before?” He softly sang them to Ethan, who nodded, his face shining with happiness.

When Elliot finished his homework, Ethan made popcorn and they watched White Collar together. Carter had never seen it. Both Elliot and Ethan looked at him in disbelief when he said that.

“It’s good,” Ethan said.

Carter didn’t understand everything in the episode, but he still enjoyed it. More than that, he enjoyed watching Ethan’s reactions. Ethan laughed most at Peter the FBI agent and Neal the criminal’s good-natured interactions, and Elliot seemed to have a soft spot for Neal’s partner-in-crime, Mozzie, a little guy who was always one step ahead of the game and yet could never catch a break.

At ten o’clock, Ethan yawned. It was full-fledged, wide-mawed, and uncovered. “Tired?” Carter asked. Nodding, Ethan nuzzled against his shoulder.

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re sleeping in Mom and Dad’s room,” Elliot said. “You want me to show you?”

“Yeah.” Carter nudged Ethan off him. “Come on. Elliot says it’s bed time.”

“Uh-huh.” Still drowsy, Ethan got up with Carter and trudged after him. Carter picked up his bag and followed Elliot up the stairs with Ethan tagging behind. His room was the first at the top of the stairs. “Night,” Ethan said. Giving a nonenergetic wave, he disappeared inside.

“It’s this way,” Elliot said. Carter followed. Elliot stopped at a door adjacent to the bathroom and reached in to turn the light on, illuminating a king-size bed, white carpeting, and mahogany furniture stained dark brown. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Carter said. He watched as Elliot walked away. He’d expected Elliot to have something cutting to say now that Ethan was out of earshot, so the silent departure left him confused and a little unsettled. He didn’t know what to make of Elliot. Setting his bag down on the dresser, Carter opened it and pulled his pajamas and toothbrush out. Hooking them under his arm, he headed to the bathroom for a shower. He wasn’t a morning person and preferred showering at night. Undressing quickly, he found that the bathroom wasn’t as cold as he’d anticipated. Instead, the heat was at a cozy level, and the plush carpeting felt nice under his bare feet. He peed—the toilet revealed directions for aiming and shaking himself clean without making a mess written in marker on the inside of the lid—washed his hands, and turned his attention to the bath. The faucet had a child lock on it to prevent the water going too hot, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out how to turn it on. There was a metal bar attached to the shower wall. Carter’s grandmother had had one installed after she broke her hip. It took him a minute to realize this one was probably for Ethan.

Once he got into the shower, he noticed a laminated sheet of paper stuck to the wall at the end of the tub, a few inches above his head.

“Steps for a Successful Shower,” it said. Then, beneath the title:

1. Wet your hair.

2. Shampoo your hair. Rub well!

3. Rinse until water runs clear (no soap).

4. Condition your hair. Rub well!

5. Rinse until water runs clear.

6. Wet loofah.

7. Add soap.

8. Wash your body. Remember your ears, face, and privates (front and back).

9. Rinse.

10. Turn water off.

11. Towel your feet off before stepping out onto the carpet.

 

As Carter followed each step, he realized the list was at Ethan’s eye-level. After getting out of the shower (toweling his feet first) and putting his pajamas on, he opened the door to release some of the shower’s steam. Looking for toothpaste, Carter found another note inside the medicine cabinet called “Brushing your teeth” that started and ended with what to do with the toothpaste cap. He read it as he brushed and rinsed his mouth. The paper was yellowing and curled up at the corners. When Carter touched it, a piece broke away.

“I don’t use those anymore.”

“What?” Carter jumped back, feeling guilty for his uninvited exploration into Ethan’s life. Ethan stood in the doorway dressed for bed in his red pajamas.

“I have bad days; that’s why they’re still up. But I don’t use them much.” He moved past Carter toward the sink. “A few years ago, the house was covered in notes. I couldn’t remember the steps to do anything. I even had a note telling me to turn my alarm off in the morning.”

“A lot of people use lists.”

“Brain-damaged people.”

“Everyone.”

Ethan picked up the toothpaste and unscrewed the cap with the same care he put into every task. “I don’t think so, Carter. I never saw a regular person’s house with lists like mine.” He squeezed a pea-size amount—the same quantity the yellowing directions advised—onto his brush and put it into his mouth.

Carter watched him, but Ethan didn’t seem inclined to continue the conversation. “Goodnight,” Carter said.

Ethan waved at him over his shoulder and kept his focus on the mirror as he brushed his teeth.

Nolan and Liz had a king-size bed. Carter lay in the middle with his arms and legs sprawled wide and didn’t reach any edge. The window had dark curtains over it, but he had the door open and the hall had a window with lace curtains that let the moonlight through. Plus, the bathroom light shone from the other end of the hallway. The Harts’ bedspread smelled freshly laundered. Maybe Liz had done it earlier that day and then learned about Aunt Amelia, so she hadn’t had the chance to enjoy it. Instead, Carter would break it in. He was glad he’d showered.

He was almost asleep when Ethan appeared in the doorway, his silhouette a hulking giant blocking out the little light. Carter forced himself to sit up. “Ethan?”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“Um—” If this was a last ditch attempt to ensure Carter wasn’t a babysitter by pushing him into a role he couldn’t return from, Carter wasn’t sure he wanted to be part of it. Sure, they held hands all the time and sat together engaged in absent touches, but even if they didn’t touch, being in the same bed was still something that maybe they shouldn’t do. “Shouldn’t you go back to your own room?” Carter asked.

Ethan’s shoulders crumpled forward. “I’m sorry. I tried not to come but… but….” Carter leaned forward, trying to hear what reason Ethan refused to say.

“Mom and Dad let him sleep with them if he has a nightmare.” Elliot appeared next to Ethan. Laying a hand on Ethan’s elbow, he nudged him into the room. Ethan moved, head down and cowed as Elliot revealed his secret

“Oh,” Carter said. “That’s, that’s fine.” God, what a stupid thing to say! As if he should be giving permission for what Ethan already had a right to do! Carter was the interloper here, not Ethan. He moved to the edge of the bed and pulled the covers back. Ethan climbed in and planted his face in the pillow, refusing to look at him.

Carter imagined him in his bedroom, torn from sleep by a nightmare and not seeking comfort because he didn’t want Carter to think he was a child. How long had he stayed put before the need for reassurance sent him here?

“I get nightmares too,” Carter said. Ethan huddled deeper into the pillow. Elliot nudged Ethan until he moved over and crawled in beside him.

“You should rub his back,” Elliot said. “It helps.”

Carter could have spent hours, years, analyzing the situational change in Elliot’s behavior, or in his own willingness to take orders from the teenager who thought so little of him. But he rubbed Ethan’s back. It was chilly despite the nightmares, which always made Carter feel hot.

“Up and down, not in circles,” Ethan said.

“So you’re awake enough to boss me around?” Carter gave him a light pinch in the soft place on his side near his belly. He smoothed his hand over the spot as Ethan turned to frown at him. “Sorry. Only teasing.”

“Uh-huh.” Ethan shifted, nudging his back against Carter’s hand, like a cat wanting to be stroked.

“Okay, up and down, not in circles.” Carter made good on his promise. Ethan sighed, a good sound. Content.

Elliot leaned in close to touch his forehead to Ethan’s and whispered something to him that made Ethan wrap his arms around his brother. Carter hummed, a lullaby at first, but thinking that Ethan wouldn’t appreciate that, he switched to a song he’d played for him.

 

 

IN THE morning, they woke in a bundle. Ethan in the middle, Carter’s left leg caught between Ethan’s, and Elliot’s hand wedged beneath Ethan’s stomach. Elliot woke enough to look annoyed before closing his eyes and dropping back to the pillow.

“I’m starving,” Carter said. He pushed Ethan’s bangs off his eyes. Ethan was beautiful always, but especially like this, half-asleep and peaceful. Ethan blinked up at him, languid and sleepy. His pajama top had ridden up above his stomach. Carter looked away and concentrated on sorting out his own clothes, which had been twisted up during the night too. Although he’d slept like a rock, it was pretty clear that at least one person among them had windmill tendencies.

“I can make coffee,” Ethan said.

“Okay.”

They went downstairs together. Ethan kept a hand on Carter’s shoulder. When they sat down with coffee and cheese danishes from Pepper’s, which Ethan dunked into his mug, he was silent and not smiling. Carter asked the question he’d convinced himself not to, since it wasn’t his business, about what kept Ethan up so often at night that he had a habit of needing his parents’ comfort, and that Elliot knew this tradition too.

“Red,” Ethan said in answer. “And hands.” He watched a bit of cheese melt into his coffee. “And it hurts,” he added with a cracking voice.

Silently, Carter pushed the rest of his danish toward Ethan. He didn’t know what to say. Ethan looked at it, looked at Carter.

Ethan smiled.