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KATE
“You know, some people would pay extra for texture from a paint brush,” I tell Carter as I smear paint onto the side of the van.
Carter snorts. “Yeah, right.”
I can’t believe I’m painting a van in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. The only thing more unproductive would be getting stoned, but Reed and Eric already have that base covered.
“You know, it’s not every day a crazy mom runs two hundred miles to repaint a Dodge Caravan with her kid. You better tell all your friends I get to ride shotgun. Where are you planning to take this thing, anyway?”
Carter doesn’t rise to the bait.
I need my kid to get his head out of his ass.
“Carter, look.” I set down my brush and stand in front of him. “I know the van is important to you, but there’s a lot of other things we need to be thinking about right now.”
“Like what?” His mild tone rankles. He refuses to make eye contact.
“Like gathering food supplies. Like clearing the rest of Creekside. Like fortifying the bottom floor of the dorm so no one can break in. Like finding some solar panels so we can get a washing machine working.”
He shrugs. “You don’t have to stay out here with me.”
“You’re the one who made a big deal about coming outside. You know it’s not safe to be out here alone. We need to stay in pairs.”
“Are you taking her side?” He glares up at me.
“Sweetie, this has nothing to do with Jenna. This is about us surviving—”
“You’re taking her side.”
I ball my fists in frustration. “I’m not—"
“Hey, guys.” Jenna steps around the building, carrying something in her arms.
I turn toward her and smile, relieved for a break in my near-argument with Carter. Who disappears to the other side of the van as Jenna approaches.
“Hey, Jenna. What are you up to?” I make my voice chipper, hoping to dispel the tension.
“Hey, Kate. I’ve been going through the kitchen of one of the cleared dorms. I found some food I thought you might like.” She sets two energy bars just inside the open door of the van.
“Thanks. Good timing.” I rip into the bar, realizing it must be around lunchtime. “I bet Carter is hungry,” I add in a low voice, gesturing for her to go talk to him.
Her face brightens. She circles around the van.
I shouldn’t eavesdrop. I should just walk away. Go into the bushes to pee or something. Give them some privacy.
Instead, I slink toward the back of the van, head cocked to listen.
“Hey, Carter.”
Silence.
“I found your favorite granola in Kevin’s dorm,” Jenna offers. “I thought you might be hungry.”
More silence.
“Carter, please talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Jenna. You’ve made your feelings clear.”
“No, Carter, I—”
“Go away, Jenna.”
“Carter—”
“Are you deaf? I said, go away!”
I emerge around the back of the van just in time to see Jenna hurl the bag of granola onto the ground at Carter’s feet. Then she stalks back to Creekside.
“Why did you do that?” Carter demands.
I decide to play dumb. “Do what?”
“Tell Jenna I was hungry.”
Guess I hadn’t been so quiet after all. Playing dumb was a bad idea anyway. “I thought some alone time would give you guys a chance to talk through things.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I don’t pretend to know the details of your fight,” I reply. “Whatever she did, Jenna is sorry. Just talk to her. Give her a chance to say whatever it is she’s been trying to say to you.”
I am rewarded with a look of profound disgust. “Are you still going to try and convince me you’re not on her side?”
I decide to keep my mouth shut. He wouldn’t believe me if I told him I was on his side, that seeing him hurt makes me hurt.
With a soft sigh, I pick up my brush. As much as I want to join Jenna, protecting Carter will always be my first priority. Even if that means painting a van in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.
The day drags by. I can’t help but think that if Frederico knew that I ran two hundred miles to paint a van with Carter, he’d turn over in his grave. Or laugh. He was good at laughing when things were shitty.
“Remember how Dad always used to help me?”
Carter’s voice jars me out of my thoughts. I glance over at him as he rounds the side of the van.
“Helped you with what?” I ask, not in the mood to guess.
“With the beer. I know we only made a few batches together, but it was fun. It was sort of our thing.”
“Dad loved making beer with you.”
“This is my dream, Mom.” Carter’s gesture takes in the van and the fermenting kegs in the back. “This is what I want to do with my life. Dad knew that.”
There’s a reason Carter keeps bringing up Kyle. I know there is. I know it has something to do with the funk he’s in, but I can’t put my finger on it. I can’t unravel the mystery that is my son. As he looks at me, I see how lost he is.
I wish the world hadn’t taken away his dream, or his father for that matter. I wish some elbow grease and hard work would restore things to the way they were. I can protect my son and do my best to keep him alive, but I can’t restore his dream.
“I know this is important to you, sweetie, but the world has changed. We can’t hold onto the past if we’re going to survive.”
I make my voice as gentle as possible, but Carter’s face hardens with every word. Shoulders stiff, he turns his back on me and resumes work on the van.
Which leaves me with exactly two choices. I can go inside and find Jenna and help her get some real work done. Or I can stay here with Carter and paint a van we likely will never be able to use.
It’s not safe to be outside alone, and so I stay and paint.
And paint.
And paint.