As soon as we step outside, the burning in my lungs stops. My breath runs free for the first time in who knows how long.
"What are we going to do?" Kira asks. I take Travis from her, and put him in my truck. He passes out the second he hits the seat.
"I can't bring him home. His mom will freak."
"What about me? Can someone bring me home?" Patrice asks.
"Shit." I lean against my truck. One night. We'd wanted one night with nothing bad and this is what we get. "I don't know if I can sneak him in my house, either." And I'm scared. What if Mom catches us? Smells the alcohol. She's been so good. What if it lures her? Makes her want it again?
"Lana's at work tonight. She went in after the dance. We can bring him to my house."
My eyes catch hers. "No. No way. You shouldn't have to deal with him."
"I really need to get home," Patrice breaks in again.
"Then you should have thought of that before you guys got trashed,” Kira says. Then to me, “Carter, it's okay. We don't really have much of a choice."
She's right. I know it, but I hate it, too. "Here." I reach into the bag, pulling Travis's keys out of his suit. "Can you take Patrice home? Then meet me at your house? We can talk there."
Kira nods her head and turns to walk away, but I pull her to me instead. My hand cups her cheek. My forehead touching hers. "Thanks."
"It'll be fine. Everything will be fine," she tells me, and then she and Patrice are gone.
Chapter Sixteen
Travis is passed out in Kira's bed. In her bed. I've never even been in it and though I know this is a screwed up situation, that I would never want to be in her bed like drunk off my ass, I'm jealous. So angry that I want to wake up my best friend just to kick his ass. To knock some sense into him.
"I don't want to leave him with you. It doesn't feel right. It's not your responsibility, but I'm pretty sure I can't stay out all night. Mom will never believe me if I tell her I'm going to Travis's tonight." Not after our conversation this afternoon.
"It's not your responsibility, either." Her hair is down now. She's wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats, home early from our dance. Nice. "Nothing's going to happen. He's asleep. He'll stay asleep. I'll watch him. Hide him when Lana gets home, and kick his hung-over ass out when she takes her nap. It'll be fine," she says again.
I turn away from her, leaning my hands on her desk. I see Travis's reflection in the mirror in front of me. I'm pissed at myself. Pissed at Travis. Mom, Grandpa. Dad for dying. I'm pissed at everyone right now. Kira steps up behind me, her darker arms wrapping around me from behind. Now it's only our reflection I see. Her eyes. Her smooth, brown skin, blending and mixing with mine as she twines herself around me. "Oh! I have an idea."
I can't help it. I chuckle. How is it she always has an idea. That she can always sound so excited about whatever it is. "What's that?"
"I used to have this best friend in LA. Her name was Misty. Whenever we wanted to hang out, but couldn't, we'd have phone slumber parties."
"Huh?" Texting I'm good with. I used to hate it when Mel would keep me on the phone for hours and a phone slumber party sounds awful girly.
"Don't look at me like that!" She swats me. "It's fun. Call me when you get home and we can talk all night. Talk till one of us falls asleep and it'll be just like we're together."
"Okay," I hear myself say, and amazingly, I don't hate the idea of talking to her on the phone all night. I look around her room again. There's neon green, round chair under the window. Flowers painted on the walls. Flowers I'm pretty sure she drew and painted herself. It's so her.
"Thank you. You're..."
"Awesome," she answers for me. "I know."
I make my way home as fast as I can. The lights are off, which doesn't surprise me. I keep them off as I make my way up the stairs, Sara's hall nightlight makes it so I can see. Her door is cracked open so I peek in. Mom is in bed with her. Sara must have had one of her nightmares. It's the only time Mom sleeps with her.
"Hey," she whispers, looking at me from Sara's bed. Both eyes take me in. Not one, trying to even her vision. Her voice sounds normal and some of the nausea leaves me. I didn't realize I was freaked she'd be drinking again until I see that she isn't.
"Hey."
"Did you have fun?" Mom asks.
No. "Yeah."
"Good. I'm glad. You deserve it. I want to hear all about it in the morning, okay?"
I nod, even though the words, 'not likely' are swimming in my head. "Night, Ma. I love you."
"I love you too, Carter."
I pull the door closed and then head for my room, before stopping. I don't know what makes me do it. Why I can't just leave stuff alone, but after one quick glance to make sure Sara's door is closed, I slip into Mom's room. My feet carry me straight to the closet. To the box, where I lift my baby blankets. A bottle sits inside. It's closed. Never been open and full, but it's still here. My hands itch to pick it up. To slam it against the wall and break it. Instead, I slip it back, close the door and go back to my room. I should take it. I don't know why I don't. It's like I can't make myself go there. I can't grow the hell up and do what needs to be done.
It's full though. That means she's not drinking. It could have been there for weeks. Since before. Maybe she even forgot it was there.
The suit hits the floor as I drop in bed in my boxers. I didn't get my night tonight and so I'm going to try and salvage some of it now. I'm tired of worrying about everyone else. I'm not going to think about that unopened bottle. I have a date with my girl, and I want to enjoy it. Picking up the phone, I dial.
Kira picks up on the first ring. "So what are you wearing?" I tease. She laughs.
Finally, it's just us.
***
It's hard to look at Travis the same way when we see each other at school. The guy inside me without an alcoholic for a Mom knows it shouldn't be this weird. I mean, I hate what happened, but it's not like half the people in my school haven't been drunk before. A lot of them have probably puked before, too. It doesn't make them alcoholics. Travis is just trying to deal, just like Mom.
Still, things are different, even though it makes me a jerk for feeling that way. I need to talk to him about his parents. Help him get his head on straight and see what we saw that night, but right now, I can't. I'm tired. So tired of dealing with people who can't hold their shit together. If I can't lose it, why does everyone else get to?
Especially right now.
"Mom?" It's been a week since the dance. I sneak in her room every day and the bottle it still there. I know it's stupid, but I even made a little mark in the label so I'd know if it was a different one. It's still untouched. I don't know if I should be happy or upset about that. I hate that it's there, but glad that it's still there at the same time.
She looks over at me from her position of scrubbing the kitchen counter, pushing a strand of brown hair out of her face. "Hey, you." She looks down at the counter again, scrubbing.
"How...how are you?" I lean against the counter beside her.
She blows out a deep breath, the hair swaying with the force of air. "I'm okay. I'm sad, but I'm okay. I promise." Mom stops scrubbing before standing beside me. Her head drops to my shoulder. "I miss him so much, kiddo. He..." she hiccups and I know she's crying. My eyes burn, too. "He changed my life. He made me happy. He loved me, so much." She squeezes my arm. "He gave me you. Your dad loved you so much, Carter. I never saw his eyes light up the way I did when he would look at you."