Who Can Really Blame You?

He just fell asleep, and that was it. When the beeping in the room stopped, my aunt just cried harder, and I just held his hand, silent tears dripping off my nose, and onto the sheets.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Aunt Carol asks me, and I honestly don’t know. “I’ll take you home,” she decides for me and stands up. I make her sit back down.

“You stay,” I say, “I’ll just walk. It’s only three blocks. I need to think anyways.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, glancing worriedly at the papers she has to sign.

“Yes,” I say, hugging her.

“I love you,” she tells me.

“I love you too,” I reply, and zip my hoodie up, before leaving the room and then the hospital.

I open the door tiredly, and kick off my shoes, before flipping on the lights. Do I want to be home alone right now? Who cares?

I go into my room, and see my phone on the floor. I flip it open and see the twelve missed calls, all from Hadley and Talia. I call Talia back.

“Oh god,” she says, “Where have you been? I haven’t been able to get in touch with you for two days now!”

Has it really been two days? I guess so.

“I’m sorry—” I start.

“Do you realize what’s been going on? Carter’s all quiet and emo, and Tayler’s been trying to fight Max, and Hadley thinks you’re going to try to kill yourself or something! What do you have to say for yourself?!” she yells into my ear.

“Talia,” I say, but fall silent when she starts ranting again. I sit on my bed.

“I mean, you just come in crying, and then you scare off Carter, and then you say you’ll see us later, but have we even heard from you? No! This isn’t fair to us, Ainsley! We’re supposed to be your friends!” I hear someone in the background telling her to stop being mean.

“Talia,” I start again.

“What?!” she exclaims roughly.

“My dad died,” I breathe. She goes silent.

“What?” she asks, much gentler.

“H-his liver f-failed and he wouldn’t let me donate p-part of mine,” I say, my bottom lip quivering. I hear her repeat what I’ve said. His dad died.

“Do you want us to come over?” she asks me, and I hear something I’ve never heard in Talia’s voice before. It’s this calm, motherly sound in place of her loud boisterous insulting attitude. It makes me cry even harder.

“N-no,” I tell her, laying on my bed, and curling up, “I need to be alone right now. I just didn’t want you guys to w-worry.”

“We love you. That’s the only reason we worry,” she says, her tone still the same, “But thank you for calling. When can we come to see you?”

“Not today,” I sigh, “I dunno when. I love you guys too.”

“Okay,” she says, “We will show up within the next two days though.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I say, smiling for the first time in awhile.

“No problem, babe,” she says, “Bye.”

“Bye, Tally,” I say, and hang up. Then I go to sleep.

My phone wakes me up. I groan, roll over, and reach over the side of the bed and grab it. I open in and press it to my ear.

“Hello?” I ask, checking the time. I slept 6 hours.

“Ainsley,” it’s my aunt, “Everything’s done. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I say, “I was asleep.”

She pauses. “Well, the funeral’s the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I say, “Will he… will he look the same? As when he was in the hospital I mean.”

“No, darling,” she assures me, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” I tell her, “It’s just going to take awhile getting used to him not… being here.”

She sighs. “I know. It’s already different.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t think I can.

“Well, I’ll see you at the funeral,” she says, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Aunt Carol,” I say, “bye.”

“Bye.” She says, and hangs up.

I sit up, and decide that I’ll just stay awake. It’s about eight in the morning, and I don’t think I could sleep even if my life depended on it. I pull my knees to my chest, and lean my head on my knees. Someone knocks on my apartment door. I sigh, and move to the front door. I look through the peephole and feel my stomach sink.

“Carter,” I say looking at my feet when I open the door.

“Hey,” he says, “I was worried you’d be asleep.”

“I just woke up,” I say, glancing at him before looking back down, “My aunt called.”

He doesn’t say anything and neither do I.

“Did you… Did you find my letter?” he asks after a solid minute of silence.

I nod, but don’t say anything.

“I’m sorry I came here,” he says, turning suddenly to leave. I reach out before I can stop myself, and grab his wrist.

“I’m sorry I told you to stay away,” I admit. Carter turns around, and is hugging me instantly.

“I don’t blame you,” he says into my hair, which I’m sure smells bad. I pull away. He frowns.

“I haven’t showered,” I say, turning red. He smirks, and hugs me again anyways. When he pulls away, I let him in.

“You don’t smell bad,” he tells me as we pass through the kitchen and into the living room. I turn red again, and sit down on the couch. “I think we need to talk,” he says, “If you’re up to it.”

I stare at him.

“About what?” I ask, but I can see him telling me that he just wants to be friends, and that he hopes this doesn’t ruin anything. I feel a very sharp tug in my stomach.

“I’m tired of guessing with you,” he shrugs, “Let’s just be honest, okay?”

I bite my lip and think for a moment.

“Okay,” I say, crossing my legs and leaning my elbows on my knees, and placing my chin in my hands. “What do you want to talk about?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer right away. I remain patient. Carter sighs and looks at me, before sitting down next to me and taking a deep breath.

“You want me to stay away from you so you’ll stop liking me?” he asks. I nod, and try to will my face not to go red. It does anyways. “Why?” he asks. I stare at him.

“Carter,” I say seriously, “You’re so far out of my league, it’s ridiculous. It would just be easier if I simply stopped liking you. Less let down.”

“No I’m not,” he says, apparently ignoring the rest of what I said. I don’t look at him.

“You don’t see yourself like everyone else sees you,” I say quietly.

“Neither do you,” he replies.

“Is that settled?” I ask.

He sighs. “I understand what you mean, but I don’t understand why you’d want to do that. I want to hang out with you.”

I don’t say anything.

“Next topic?” I ask a minute later.

“Do you really want me to stay away from you?” he asks.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t want to get hurt, but I don’t want to stop being your friend,” I say. He doesn’t reply. I bite my lip. “I’m sorry,” I say.

“For what?’ he asks me.

“I sound like I care more about myself than my friends,” I groan, covering my face.

“Kind of,” he agrees, “But I know you don’t. It’s not necessarily a good thing.”

“What?” I ask, looking up from my hands.

“You care about all of us more than you care about yourself,” he shrugs, “I mean, you’d rather have your dad beat you than stay with your friends because you didn’t want them to worry over you.”

“They’re too young to worry about things like that,” I say, my eyes filling at the thought of my dad.

“Oh, Ainsley. I’m sorry! I didn’t even think—”

“It’s okay,” I say, pressing my palms into my eyes to stop myself from crying, “But he was a great person, Carter. He wasn’t a bad guy.”

Carter’s arms snake around me, and I make myself keep from crying.

“I’m okay,” I tell him, and he pulls away from me, smiling sadly. We sit in silence for awhile. “Do you have any more questions?” I ask him.

“Uhm,” he pauses to think, “No. I guess not. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes,” I say, and look at him. “Why did you realize you were gay when you started hanging out with us?” I ask him. In all honesty I had forgotten about that comment until he just asked me if I had a question. Carter turns red, something I’m not used to.

“Uh, honestly?” he asks. I roll my eyes and nod. “Because of you,” he replies, turning redder. I turn red too.

We don’t say anything.

“What?” I finally ask.

“Well, you know. I… You’re really pretty,” he blurts out. I cover my face.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” I finally say, laughing. “Do you even remember how bruised up I was? I mean, do you have an awkward bruise fetish?” I joke. Carter turns red.

“You were still cute,” he mutters. I go pink. “Any other questions?” he asks me.

“Yes,” I reply, “Did you honestly just kiss me to see if you had it for guys?”

Carter looks at me. I don’t know what I want his answer to be. Either way, we’re on a fast train to awkward city. Or maybe we’re already there, judging by how much we’ve been blushing.

“Partially,” he replies, “I was seeing if I had it for you too.”

“And?” I ask, turning my head to look at him. He shrugs, looking away. I nod, but feel my stomach sinking anyways. I turn to study my coffee table.

“It was a long time ago…” he says suddenly, “I don’t know if my memory serves me correctly.”

I look up to him.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn as he moves into me.

“This is for real,” he says, stopping where he is, which is about five inches from my face. I don’t move. He doesn’t move. We stay still for a few moments. I’m about to move in when he speaks.

“I shouldn’t,” he says, looking kind of panicked and pulling away.

“Why not?” I ask. Carter stands up.

“I’m just not ready to be with anyone… It’s not fair to you, Ainsley,” he apologizes, “I’ll see you around.”

“Wait—” I call out, but the front door closes, and he’s gone.

Momentarily, I want to cry, but instead, I get up, go to the door and yell at him.

“What the fuck?” I ask as he waits for the elevator. He stares at me from ten feet down the hall. “You hate it when I run away, but you’re going to do it now? Why did you really come here? Just to hear me say what I’ve already said a billion times before? You picked a bad time to be an ass to me, Carter,” I say, glaring at him. He sighs, and looks at me.

“I’m sorry, Ainsley,” he says sincerely, and I want to say it’s okay, but the worst part of me wont let myself. I just want him to be sad for a little while. Sad like he makes me. I feel guilty instantly for wishing that.

“You’re sorry,” I mumble, and move to go back inside my apartment, “Everyone’s always sorry, Carter.”

“I am sorry,” he says, “And not just because everyone always is.”

I don’t say anything, just sigh, and go back inside. I’m about to close the door when Carter’s foot catches it.

“Go, Carter,” I say, staring at his foot. He pushes the door open, and comes back inside.

“No,” he says, “I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I don’t,” I say, not moving. He leans backwards against the door.

“But you will eventually,” he says, reaching for my hand. I yank it away from him.

“Don’t try to make me feel better,” I say, trying to sound angry again, but only managing a pleading tone that makes me wince.

“I’m not. I’m trying to explain,” he says. I stay silent. If he wants to explain, he’d better start now. “Uh,” he says, glancing at his feet, “I like you.”

I glare at my hands. I don’t know why.

“But,” he says. That’s why I glared at my hands. The ‘but’ was coming. My unconscious mind caught onto that one.

“But I’m scared. I’m not ready to be with anyone,” he says, “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I say, pulling him off the door and opening it.

“What are you doing?” he asks as I stand impatiently with the door open.

“Just go, Carter,” I sigh. He doesn’t.

“It’s my reason,” he says as I begin to try to push him out, “It’s a legitimate reason.”

“Fear is never a good reason,” I state, pushing him harder.

“Yes it is,” he argues, not moving, “Otherwise people would be jumping off buildings left and right.”

“They already are,” I say, “Go.”

“You’re angry,” he says, “You’re angry because I’m scared and you’re not.”

“Of course I’m scared!” I exclaim and stop pushing him. “I just try not to show it.”

“Why not?” he asks. I sigh. I want to punch him and kiss him all at once, and it just pisses me off. Oddly though, I end up sounding calm when I speak.

“You know what the last thing my dad ever said to me was, Carter?” I ask him, staring at him, his eyes going wide

“Of course I don’t,” he replies, quiet.

“He said, “Don’t be afraid. You’re worth so much more than you think.” I want to be brave, and I’ll fake it until I am,” I say, and push him easily out, all his fight seeming to be gone.

Maybe all of my fight is gone too, because I don’t manage half of the boom I wanted to achieve when I slam the door.