Chapter 32

CARRIE

The two of us are having a simple dinner. It’s at an old restaurant, not too far from where Blake and I met at his high-school reunion. The restaurant looks like the kind of place that has been around for longer than the two of us have been alive. They mostly serve burgers and ribs, and the only drink options are beer and water.

“My friends and I used to come here every Friday night,” Blake explains as he leads me to our table. The tables are all old plastic sets which, again, look older than either both our ages put together. “It wasn’t quite as run down then.”

“No, it’s quaint,” I say optimistically, wondering why in the hell he has brought me here. I’m not a snob, but it is an odd choice of location.

“I was thinking. You’ve really only seen me from one side. The rich, arrogant side. I wanted to show you where I came from. If you’re going to be having my child, I figure you deserve that.”

Now I understand. It’s not the restaurant that he wants to show me, but himself. I always forget that, like me, he had a difficult upbringing and is actually a down-to-earth kind of guy. This is further proven when the waiter comes out and recognizes Blake. They talk like old friends, and the waiter snatches the menu away, stating that he is going to have the kitchen make us something special.

It’s a side of Blake that I have never seen, and one that I like just as much as the other. Maybe tonight will be even better than the previous date?

***

“And where is this?” I ask as Blake leads me across the empty parking lot. “Your old make-out spot?”

We’re only a few minutes’ drive from the restaurant, along the coast. I guess it’s the parking lot to a beach, one long abandoned.

“It’s where my friends and I used to hang out on weekends, before the place became rundown and forgotten.”

He still has a hold of my hand, and as we crest the parking lot, the smell of salt water wafts through my nostrils. The sound of waves lapping at the shore also appears as if from nowhere. As I look down, I spot the coastline.

“So, I was right,” I chime in. “It is your old make-out spot.”

“Only sometimes, I had a lot of spots to choose from,” he jokes. “Now come on.”

He lets go of my hand and sprints down the old wooden steps and onto the beach. I laugh at how enthusiastic he is, and I follow.

The sand is coarse on my feet, but I love the feeling. I follow him along the beach to the water’s edge, where he has stopped. He stares out across the water, and the moonlight bathes itself over him. He turns and waves me over.

“I can’t believe how long it has been since I was here last,” he says as I walk to his side. I reach him and take his hand in mine. “It’s got to have been more than fifteen years now.”

“What?” I ask, surprised. “Why so long?”

He pauses for a moment and looks back out across the water. There is a look in his eyes that I don’t recognize. Is it pain?

“The last time I was here was with my high-school sweetheart. And that was also the time she broke up with me.”

“Oh,” I say simply, surprised by the admission.

“Yeah. I thought we were in love. You know how it is in high school? But she dumped me and then I never saw her again.”

“And you never tried to see her again?” I ask.

I don’t know why I ask that. I know that he didn’t and I know that his story is a lie.

“No, she is dead.” He sounds remorseful as he speaks, and for a second, I almost believe him. “It happened a few months ago. I couldn’t believe it when I heard a few weeks later. I always saw her as the one who got away, and a part of me always thought I would see her again. But now… I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear any of this.”

He’s right. I don’t. In fact, it actually makes me a little angry, and I can feel myself starting to run hot. How dare he say such things, pinning it on my sister? And how dare he act now like he was the one who was the victim? After what he did?

I have to work to control my anger. I can feel it bubbling up inside of me.

“That’s too bad,” I say coldly as I look out across the water. I don’t look at his face. If I do, he will probably see the anger etched across it.

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees. “But no matter. I have you now.” He still has my hand, and he lifts it up and kisses the back of it. I seethe. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” I say pleasantly, trying my best to not let him know how I am feeling.

Even I don’t really know how I am feeling. Angry, yes. But also confused. It’s a fight between my loyalty to my sister and my feelings for Blake. Until recently, I could almost lie to myself and say that the two hadn’t dated, and I was mistaken. But now that he has said it openly to me, I can ignore it no longer. And I have no idea how to feel.

I am bad company the rest of the night. Blake does most of the talking, and I smile and nod. A few times, he tries to kiss me, but I make some sort of excuse as to why he can’t. I swat away at a fly or pretend to sneeze.

When the awkwardness becomes too much, he suggests that he take me home, and I agree. I don’t want to stay in his company any longer tonight. Not until I have a chance to think over everything.

The car pulls up in front of my apartment, and I can feel the tension. He turns off the car and turns to look at me. I try my best to avoid his eyes.

“Well, good night,” he says, and he leans in to kiss me.

“Goodnight,” I say hurriedly, and instead I reach for the door handle, pop it open and jump out before he has a chance to say or do anything.

I need to be away from him. I need time to think. I don’t know what I should be feeling, but I do know that it isn’t good. I just hope that tomorrow, everything will be clearer. But as I walk to my front door, open it and enter my lonely, empty apartment, I realize that isn’t going to be the case.