Dear Life(46)

“Sure?” Carter answers, hands in his pockets, still looking around.

We both walk into the open-concept living space, and when I go to the kitchen for two beers, he stays in the living room and checks out the view of the mountain range. I don’t know much about Carter, but I can imagine my living space might rival his.

“Here.” I hand him a beer, cap already popped off.

He examines the bottle and nods in approval. “Laughing Lab. Good Scottish ale.”

“Bristol Brewery down in the Springs is one of my favorite places. I love their micro-brews.”

“I haven’t been but I’ve tried their Red Rocket and Beehive beers. Laughing Lab in my opinion is their best.”

“Can’t agree more.” Motioning to the couch, I say, “Take a seat.”

Even though I invited Carter over, I’m feeling a little uncomfortable. I don’t really know the guy but I want to get to know him because I think we could help lean on each other through a common ground; having no family to rely on.

“What’s up?” Carter gets straight to the point. “Did you call me over here to try to convince me that that godforsaken program is actually beneficial if taken seriously? Because if you did, don’t waste your breath.”

I don’t think I’ve ever met somebody with a bigger chip on their shoulder.

Sitting back on the couch, I take a sip of my beer and say, “What happened?” If he’s going to be honest, then I’m going to be honest. “I want to know why you don’t mind acting like a giant dick most of the time.”

A small smirk peeks past the beer bottle raised to his mouth, his fingers barely gripping the neck of the glass. He leans back as well, props an ankle up on his knee and says, “Is that what this is? You want to get to know me.”

“Why the fuck not?” I answer back. “As the two men in the group, we should establish some sort of rapport, don’t you think?”

“Not really.” He shakes his head. “But I’m probably going to ask for tickets to a game this summer, so it’s looking like I’m going to have to spill it.”

“I’m glad you realize that,” I say with a smile.

“Fuck.” He runs his hand over his face and then points his bottle at me. “They better be awesome fucking tickets.”

“Your story better be worth it.”

Silence settles between us. We both sip our beers, our gazes looking out the window toward the mountains, appreciating the great landscape of Colorado.

“My parents died from a drug overdose,” Carter cuts in, keeping his eyes on the mountains. Oh fuck. “They were the best kind of parents. Irresponsible, never kept a job, couldn’t care less about their child, and often had friends over to binge on drugs and alcohol during the week days when I was trying to get my school work done.” He drapes an arm over the back of my couch and fixes his eyes on mine. “When they died, I was relieved. No more parties, no more seeing my parents high as shit, and no more cleaning up after them.” A sardonic laugh comes out of him. “And I thought that was hell until my legal guardian became Uncle Chuck.”

“A real prize?”

“Yeah, you can say that. My presence was apparently a real burden on his life, and he had no problem hiding that fact from me. Every day. It’s a real slap to the dick, knowing as a child you’re not wanted anywhere.”

“Tell me about it,” I say. “The foster care system isn’t fucking Disney World either.”

Sizing me up, he tips his head up at me. “Foster kid?”

“Yup.”

“That’s shitty.”

From over our beers, we commiserate together with one simple look. That’s all it takes.

Carter smirks and says, “Look at us, fucking mommy and daddy issues.”

Laughter fills the room and I sigh. “Yeah, real fucking lucky we are. So, your uncle is an asshole. What does that have to do with the program?”

“I owe him money for school. I’m working off my debt and was so close to paying him off when my ex took all my money and ran. I was a month or so away from finally being able to tell my uncle to fuck off. Now, I’m back to zero. Lost my shit at work, and thanks to Hollyn, who suggested this program to my uncle, I’m in. I can either see it through or add two more years to my servitude. So, I show up, do the minimum, and leave. Nothing in it for me, man.”

I nod, understanding his story. “Makes sense why you’re a shit stick at every meeting.”

“Just a little window into my fucked-up life,” he offers with a tilt of his beer in my direction.

Fucked-up life it is.

“Don’t you want more, though?” I ask, knowing I’m pushing my luck with Carter. I’m lucky I got him to talk this much. In fact, I didn’t actually expect him to tell me anything. I really am going to have to score him good tickets. “The program might actually help.”

“I can’t change the circumstances. The only thing I need is ten thousand dollars and a kick to the dick to end my misery.”

“No matter how fucked-up your life is, man, you don’t want a kick to the dick.”

Smiling, he nods, his mouth full of beer. “You’re right, I don’t feel that shitty about myself.” He then looks around my living space and says, “You should really have a pool table in here or something.”