Dear Life(103)

“I don’t know compassion, Carter. My father was an abusive alcoholic and my mother was nowhere to be found. Compassion doesn’t hold a bone in my body.”

“I was scared,” I say meekly. “I lost everything I knew and had to live with a terrifying man who wanted nothing to do with me. I went to bed every night, hiding in my closet, afraid you were going to do something to me with your volatile temper. And when I was old enough, tall enough to hold my own, you turned me into a bitter man. You speak of value and ethics but where’s the value in showing humanity?” I point at him, throwing emphasis behind my words. “You could have stepped up, and not just by taking me in, but by showing an ounce of kindness, interest, love.”

His hand propped on the counter, he nods his head, his eyes cast down. “I could have,” he says softly. “But I’m not that big of a man, and I’m not afraid to admit it.” He meets my gaze. “But you are. That girl you were with, she means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”

“She did,” I admit, a bitterness left on my tongue.

“Did.” His lips press tightly together. “Because of me? Because of what I said?”

I want to say yes, but I know it’s not the truth. “No, it’s because of me.” Then I pause. “And maybe a little of you. I crushed her. I’m incapable of letting anyone in because I’m too bitter.” I’m the bitter man you created. “Like you.”

“You are who you want to be, Carter. I choose to be bitter, to live my life in solitude, running my restaurant, and never stepping outside of my element. But you shouldn’t. You have potential. Why do you think I pushed the Dear Life program?”

“Because you wanted me to be a fucking line cook for the rest of my life. Wanted the money you’d spent on me back.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care about the money. I was never going to take it from you, but I wanted you to work for it, to learn how to save. As for the job, you needed to know what it was like to work for someone else, to know that you’re not a know-it-all punk who is God’s gift to the whisk. A little humility goes a long way, Carter.” Mind-fucking-blown, life around me crumbling into a million pieces of the unknown. “I enrolled you into the program because I saw a darkness in your eyes, the kind of darkness I saw in your father’s. It scared me. You were teetering on the edge of giving in to that darkness and throwing away the potential I see in you. I couldn’t bear to witness that, so I took action.”

“I can’t . . .” My fingers sift through my unkempt hair. “Why the fuck didn’t you just say something?”

“Because, you’re a know-it-all punk who wouldn’t take a word I say to heart. Like I said, I’ve never parented before, and I sure as shit didn’t have a good example. I didn’t know what I was doing. You’re lucky you were fed and clothed growing up. But I cared, Carter, I still do.”

“That’s why you came to my apartment and knocked the fuck out of my jaw?”

“It’s called knocking some sense into you. I take that term literally.” There is a small smirk on his face, and it’s the first time I can remember my uncle ever joking with me.

It’s weird.

“So what now?” I ask, confused by the entire conversation. “Do we shake hands and become best friends?”

“Not if I can help it.” He chuckles this time and eyes the money on my couch. “Your loot?”

“Yeah. I was planning on paying you back once I got my ass off the couch.”

He nods. “Looks like I don’t have to feel guilty about firing you then.”

“You’re firing me?” I ask, not really too surprised.

“Yeah, I don’t put up with no calls, no-shows at my restaurant, and I sure as hell don’t partake in nepotism. Your shit is outside your apartment door in a brown box along with your last paycheck.”

Like a crushing blow to my chest, I sit on the couch and try to think about what the hell I’m going to do now. Yeah, I have twenty thousand dollars sitting on my couch but that isn’t all mine.

“Listen. This is your defining moment, a crossroads where you can decide to follow in your father’s footsteps, or finally take what I’ve instilled in you and make something of yourself. That money you owe me, it’s a wash. You owe me nothing but a chance for me to see you actually do something with your life. I don’t know if I’ve earned this, but I want you to make me proud. Take that money and create your freedom.”

I rub my forehead, not quite sure I can comprehend everything. Find my freedom. I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I picked up a kitchen knife, but I’ve felt stifled by the man who’s now setting me free. And now that I have it, I have no clue which way to go because the one thing I desperately want is no longer in the picture.

HOLLYN

“Wow, look at that cactus.” Daisy’s face is plastered to the Uber car window while the driver shoots off facts about Arizona. Did you know the official state necklace of Arizona is the bolo tie? Yeah, neither did I. But I do now.

Things I also learned while on this trip:

Daisy lost her virginity to Carter the night before they broke up.

Carter is the epitome of every male with commitment-phobia.

And I don’t want to be here.