Sincerely, Carter by Whitney G. Read Free Book Online Page B

Boy?”
    “They ran out of graduation cakes.” He shrugged. “Better than nothing, right? Should I have gotten, Congratulations, it’s a Girl?”
    Arizona and Dwayne burst into loud laughter, and I couldn’t help but laugh, too.
    I grabbed my own six pack of beer and motioned for the three of them to follow me outside, past the backyard gate and to the beach. This was our last summer before we all would have to chase our own separate dreams, and I wanted to cling to the carefree life for a little while longer. The life where I could get away with being slightly irresponsible and all would be forgiven with an eye roll and slap on the wrist from the campus cops. The life where spending hours upon hours in a diner with friends and talking about absolutely nothing were the norm and not the exception, and a life where the beach was never more than a few blocks away.
    Yet, as Arizona sat down right next to me in the sand— and began arguing with Josh as usual, I realized that something felt different about this summer already. But I couldn’t tell exactly what it was yet…

    A few days later…
    I locked the door to my bedroom and read over my father’s obituary for what must have been the millionth time—stopping on the words “He leaves behind a son he loved more than anything, his ex-wife (a woman who he always considered his “best friend”) and a fiancée…” The “woman he always considered his best friend” was always the part that jumped out at me.
    He’d disappeared somewhere between the sixth and seventh grade—in between one of my birthday parties and the start of puberty. There was no formal notice, no formal talk about why he was leaving; my mom and I woke up one morning—refreshed after our annual family vacation, and realized all of his stuff was gone.
    The next time we saw him, he was on TV—heading some huge celebrity divorce case. The next time we saw him after that was in the newspapers—he’d just won one of the biggest class action lawsuits in the country. And the last time we saw him was at his funeral; his new, much younger fiancée had been drinking and lost control at the wheel.
    To his credit, he gave my mother everything she thought she wanted in the divorce—alimony, child support, timeshares, and two vacation houses they’d bought together. He sent birthday and holiday cards like clockwork and every now and then he sent us flight tickets to visit him; flight tickets that never got redeemed.
    For me, he called once a week—going down his normal list of questions. “How are you this week, son?” “How are your grades?” “Your mother says you joined a summer league basketball team. How’s that?” “How is Arizona? Is she still your best friend?”
    One day, circa seventh grade and tired of his bullshit, I cut off his checklist of questions and asked. “Why did you leave us?”
    “What’s that, son?”
    “I said…” My voice didn’t waver. “Why did you leave us?”
    There was no immediate answer—only silence. After several minutes, I considered hanging up, but then he began to speak.
    “I wasn’t happy. We were only getting along for your sake…We were supposed to stay together until you reached high school, but I honestly…I couldn’t do it, and I told her that, too…I should have been clearer and said that I just didn’t feel the same as I used to, and I guess that’s why we should’ve stayed ‘just friends.’”
    “That is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard…”
    “Watch your mouth.” He snapped, his tone now glacial. “You asked me to be honest, so I’m being fucking honest…” He sighed and paused once more. “I never got to meet anyone new or find who I was outside of your mother. That’s the problem. We settled for each other and we, in turn, stifled one another.”
    “You’re blaming her for you leaving?”
    “I’m blaming us both,” he said. “No way can a man and a woman stay in love from childhood to forties and beyond.