Behind Your Walls

28 | goodbye

I always thought that the biggest problem with being a human is that we hold on to the things that pull us down. While such an action can help keep our humanity alive by reminding us where we come from, it has its cons. In the process of keeping hold of the past, our future slips and we don't realize it until the time comes to shape that very future and it is nowhere to be found.

Carter is holding on too. He has his past being his companion everywhere he goes and one can know that by his choice of words. He could have told me that his mother was dead but he chose to tell me that she left instead. Leaving for him means she will come back someday or he will go to her. Both of these situations have a complication — the truth under the surface is still hidden. A truth I want to know.

Carter looks stunned at my query. I feel the light tug of his hand as he tries to pull it away from mine. I let go, the awareness of my hands becoming suddenly sweaty due to nervousness making me feel embarrassed.

"I told you about her," he says, covering his fear of spilling the truth out with a chuckle as he lies down on the grass with his arms pillowing his head. "She left, Am."

"I know the truth, Carter," I say, lying down beside him. I see the fall of his chest when he inhales a deep breath and holds it in. I place my hand over his chest, moving it in soothing patterns. He relaxes beneath my touch. "Melody told me. I know about your Mom."

"Ignore, Melody...she has no idea about our family."

She is family — I want to say to him but stop myself. I gave a promise to Melody. I can't break it.

"You know what? I don't remember much about my Dad," I sigh and Carter's hand reaches under my head to bring my face closer to his to make me rest on his arm. "But I know that he was a good man. What do you remember of your Mom?"

He doesn't respond and the steady rise and fall of his chest make me think that he might have fallen asleep. I am about to lift my head to look at him but he holds me down.

"She was a good Mom too," he says and I smile at the use of 'was'.

He is trying to relate to my pain even though it is different for both of us. He is doing that so that he doesn't insult my father's memory.

Good going, Amaya.

"Mom says that I was closer to Dad than to her when I was a baby," I continue. "He was absent for most of the time because of his job but whenever he came home, he wouldn't leave my side. I was always in his arms from day to night."

"I was close to Mom," Carter says. "She did everything she could to keep me safe from Dad's wrath when he came home drunk. He was violent and often lost control but Mom kept me safe. She wouldn't even let him talk to me until he was sober the next morning."

I can relate to his situation only remotely. That's how Panther has been but he only ever hurt Mom. He knew that if he touched me when drunk, he would have ended up doing something stupid and therefore, he stayed away from me to keep himself on the safe side. He is cunning and knows how to plan things to make sure no one doubts his intentions.

"I was six when he died. I remember nothing of him now but I know that every time I mention him with pride, his soul lights up," I whisper, my eyes tearing up. I have never talked actively about Dad before with anyone, not even with Mom, but I am doing this for Carter. He needs it and maybe I need it too. "That's what Mom says. The dead are the rulers of the sky and the sky means peace. When someone is gone, their soul is in violent turmoil until they find peace. When we hold them back with our emotions, we keep them rooted in this plane, wandering the earth as a tormented soul."

We lie there after I am done speaking. I look up at the sky and try to find whether what I said is indeed true. It is indeed peaceful weather today and the sky looks calm, solace guiding the clouds.

"Where's your Dad buried?" Carter asks and this time, I lift my head to look at him.

His eyes are fixed on a cat-shaped cloud in the sky but his mind is attentive to my words.

"In the Arlington National Cemetery. Far from here," I say. "Mom and I only ever visited him once after his death because then Mom met Panther and he wouldn't take us there."

Every time we wanted to go there, he stopped us by making some excuse or the other until he convinced Mom that she needed to let go of Dad and focus on her life with him instead. All that I can assume is that Panther knows deep in his black heart that if Mom visits the cemetery, she will recall how better Dad was than her current husband.

"My Mom..." Carter begins and I feel the shiver of his body pressed to my side as he speaks. "She wouldn't be dead if it wasn't...wasn't for...for me."

He blinks and turns to look at me. His gaze is soft and I can feel the grief in his green eyes as they stare into mine. I trail my fingers over his cheek, slowly.

"It's okay, you can tell me," I say. "I don't judge."

Carter closes his eyes and swallows a gulp before opening them again. "She was driving the car and I didn't want to leave Dad. I wasn't close to him but that night...I just knew that it was all over...that I'll no longer have a normal family. I wanted to go back and I shouted and screamed at her to turn back. When she wouldn't listen, my impulsiveness took over and I tried to jump out of the window of the car."

My heart skips a beat. I look at him with my lips parted. I didn't expect to hear that out of all things. That's way too dark.

"She tried to stop me and..." He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and wets it before continuing. "She removed her hand from the steering wheel to pull me back when a truck from the other end of the road crashed into us. Mom died at the impact while I survived only because I was thrown back to the back seat. I hurt my head but...I lived."

There is a sudden silence around us. It is like the other people in the park have disappeared and it is just us. The silence is only experienced by me because I know the reason for Carter's denial now. It isn't guilt as he puts it. Guilt doesn't make him tell himself that his mother only 'left', guilt didn't make him skip school and visit his mother's grave, and guilt didn't make him rebellious.

It wasn't guilt. It was the fact that he never got to say goodbye.

I know that feeling. I never got to say goodbye either.

"Carter..." I cup his face between my palms and lean in to kiss him on his lips.

It is not a kiss of passion, it is not a kiss of love. It is not sexual — it is a kiss of understanding.

I understand you, Carter.

"I tried to, Am...I fucking tried but...it doesn't go away." His body shakes violently and I know that he is crying. His lips curve as he looks at the sky. "I can't let her go, Am. She's everywhere in my head. I regret what I did."

"Carter, it's okay..." I place a finger on his lips to silence him and he looks at me, tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes. I press my forehead to his, placing a kiss on his nose as I whisper at his lips, "It's time to say goodbye."