The minute the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back. I had been running around like crazy all day, and the date had slipped my mind. It shouldn’t have either way, but I hadn’t been myself lately. I hadn’t been myself since Carter Anderson had walked up to me.
I could feel my phone buzzing every so often, and I knew it had to be either Carter or Beth. No one else ever texted me. My mom occasionally, but if she really needed me, she would call me. But I didn’t even have time to eat lunch, let alone find a minute to text back. I only vaguely realized that Don had probably done that on purpose, filling my day past brimming so that I wouldn’t have time to dwell on my sadness.
He was good about not talking to me about things, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. He just did it from a distance.
When I finally walked through the door and pulled out my phone to text back, my mind was already coming up with interesting things to respond even before I knew who exactly had texted me, or for that matter, what was said.
I briefly glanced at my phone’s locked display, but it was enough for me to see what date it was. It was enough for me to realize that I had completely forgotten the anniversary of my father’s death. The day that branded my entire life with a stain so dark it couldn’t be removed, not with any amount of scrubbing. And believe me, my mom had tried.
I had failed my father once again. How could I forget him? How could I forget this day?
And much as I did every year on this day, I broke down. But this time, it was worse because of the extra shame and guilt I felt for forgetting.
My mind went numb from the pain I was feeling, and it wasn’t just emotional pain. Somehow, when the circumstance was right, the body managed to turn your internal struggles into a full body experience. You felt your nerves on end, tingling in your fingers, and soreness all over. Everything hurt, especially my heart.
I didn’t even comprehend the world around me until I felt Carter’s arms around me—his voice soothing and his words comforting. And then I told him the one thing that would send him running for the hills.
“I … I don’t … I don’t understand.” He was flustered and rightfully so. “Talk to me, Em. What happened? What’s all this about?”
“I killed my father,” I told him through sobs.
“I …” He trailed off but kept his arm around me, offering me consolation even through his obvious confusion. He’s a good guy, I thought briefly. “Tell me what happened,” he urged.
“My father is dead, and it’s all my fault.” My words were broken, my tears coming fast. “I was twelve,” I started, my voice hoarse. He hadn’t released me through all this. I should have pushed him off a long time ago, but I was selfish. I wanted his arms surrounding me, making me feel safe. “I was going through my rebellious stage. I didn’t want to listen to my parents, let alone hang out with them. I wanted to spend all my time with my friends. But my dad had guilt-tripped me into hanging out with him. We had fought the entire time we were walking to his car.”
“That’s normal,” Carter interjected. “Everyone goes through that.”
“But not everyone kills their parents as a result,” I fired back. I felt him tense around me, but he didn’t budge.
“Tell me the rest,” he encouraged.
“We were fighting about my name. Aside from Sunshine, he used to call me Emmie, but I hated it. I thought it made me sound so young. So when he called me that, I blew up at him. We argued, and I fell backward into the street.” Carter’s face had gone ashen, obviously understanding where I was heading with this. I couldn’t blame his reaction. I felt that way on a daily basis. “I didn’t see the car coming, but my father did. He pushed me out of the way. He saved me,” I said, my voice dropping. “He died saving me because I was too busy arguing with him to think about anything else. That stupid name. That stupid fucking name,” I said, finding it necessary to cuss in a moment like this.
“Oh Em,” he said as he wrapped me in a hug. I swear I could feel his relief that I hadn’t physically harmed my father in that hug. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“How could you say that?” I asked against his chest as I tried to pull away, but he just wrapped his arms around me tighter.
“Because it’s true,” he answered.
“It’s not!” I yelled into his chest, still fighting to pull away. I didn’t deserve this solace. I didn’t deserve him telling me it wasn’t my fault. It was. “Don’t you get it, Carter?” I cried. “If I hadn’t cared about being popular and hanging out with my friends, I wouldn’t have been arguing with him. I wouldn’t have given a damn about that stupid nickname. I wouldn’t have put us in the situation where he had to give up his life for mine.”
“That’s not true.” He tried to cut me off, but I wasn’t going to let him. He needed to know what kind of horrible person I was.
I spoke over him. “All I cared about then was having fun and looking good, but no matter how good you look on the outside, if what’s inside is ugly, it doesn’t matter. And I’m ugly, Carter,” I cried against his chest as I held onto his shirt as my anchor, no longer trying to escape his grasp. “My father is dead because of me,” I said through broken moans. “My father is gone, and my mother lost me that day too,” I whispered, admitting out loud what I refused to admit even to myself for years. “I hurt the people I love. I hurt the people I love,” I repeated. “I’m a terrible person. I’m an ugly person. I’m so ugly on the inside. You shouldn’t want to be around me, Carter,” I said as I realized just how selfish I was being by clinging to him. I pushed off him again, and this time, I managed to break free, but he grabbed my arms to keep me from running away.
“Listen to me, Em,” he said, but I was trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
“No, no, no,” I kept chanting.
“Em, you’re not a terrible person,” he said, but I shook my head.
“I am,” I cried, my face soaked. My shirt was drenched, and his wasn’t faring too well either.
“Em, you’re not. You’re far from it,” he said and then grabbed my face in his hands and held it so that I was forced to look into his eyes. “Listen to what I’m telling you.” He spoke slowly, his eyes not straying from mine. “What happened sucks. You watched your father die; you watched him save your life in exchange for his, and you feel an immense amount of grief about that. I get it. I swear to God, I do. But you didn’t fall into the street on purpose, you didn’t ask your father to save you, and I bet if you would have known what could have happened, you wouldn’t have argued with him. Life is messy and complicated, and bad things happen to good people. But that’s just it; it’s part of life. Not your fault.”
“But I did do all those things. I did all that, and the world lost a beautiful soul that day. I lost a beautiful soul that day, but the difference is that I am the reason he’s gone.” I tried to explain to Carter, but he shook his head and kept his grip on my face just tight enough that I couldn’t break away.
“No, Em. You argued because that was what twelve-year-old girls do, and your father saved you because he loved you more than he loved himself. That’s what parents are supposed to do,” he said vehemently. “Tell me, do you love your dad?” he asked.
“Of course!” I practically shouted.
“And he loved you.” He said it as a statement, but I still felt the need to say, “Yes.”
“Then he wouldn’t want this for you.” His tone said he meant business. “He wouldn’t want you sitting here, calling yourself ugly, saying you’re a terrible person, pushing everyone away, shutting yourself out, and not living life to the fullest. He didn’t give up his life so you could stop living yours.”
“I … I don’t …” I didn’t have a response. He spoke with so much passion behind his words, so much sincerity in his voice, that I was breaking apart. I was split in two – one side stuck in my own world, the other desperately trying to find truth in his words.
“I know what it’s like to feel guilt,” he said much more softly. “It’s hard to move on, but it happens, Em. You just wake up one day and realize you have to keep living your life. Otherwise, the chance you were given is being wasted. It takes time, Em, but it happens. I guess for some it takes longer.” And I knew he was referring to me. “But either way, your father’s death wasn’t your fault.”
His words made sense but hearing them and acknowledging them were two different things. Feelings you’d been feeling for twelve years didn’t switch off like a light just because someone told you they weren’t the right feelings. I heard Carter’s words, I could even understand his meaning, but that didn’t mean my heart comprehended them. Nevertheless, I was still grateful to him for checking on me, for consoling me, for being there for me when I really needed someone. And I broke down again. I cried for my father, I cried for my mother, I cried for the little girl I was, and the woman I had become, but mostly, I cried because of Carter. He made me feel something other than pain. I hadn’t felt that for so long, and it was too much.
“Shh, it’s all right,” he said as he pulled me to him again. I didn’t fight him. I let him lead me into the comfort of his embrace.
“Thank you,” I whispered, still clinging to him. “Thank you for being here.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he said. And we stayed that way, hanging onto each other for a little while longer, with him whispering soft words against my head as my tears slowly subsided. And when I was calm enough, I lifted my head from his chest and moved my glasses off my face slightly, just enough to wipe the wetness from my eyes.
“Your eyes,” he said almost reverently. “They’re beautiful.” I knew most of my makeup had washed off with my tears, no longer overpowering my eyes, and the removal of my glasses hadn’t helped. “Why do you hide them?” he asked.
“I don’t … it’s just … that’s who I am, Carter,” I stuttered through that sentence. “Please, just drop it.” He nodded in response, but after he tinkered around in my kitchen and made us a couple of sandwiches, I saw him staring at my eyes while we ate in comfortable silence.
It was only after I assured him I would be all right and the worst of my sadness had dissipated that he finally went home. And when he did, I immediately felt his loss.