Sort of Normal

Chapter 3

Carter

I grip the steering wheel, begging my lungs to start working regularly again as I drive. I have no idea why I just did that.

I must be losing my mind. I have to be. Boone Fell has broken my heart numerous times. He doesn't even deserve a millisecond of my time, and I just gave it to him like it was nothing!

During my shift today, I kept looking for him. I wanted him to come. I was up all last night preparing what I would say when I saw him.

You should know you can't miss something you never wanted.

Then he didn't show up, and I was actually disappointed. For two reasons: one, because I wanted to say that and, two, because he wasn't showing up. Again. Since I was about fifteen, he's always had this pattern where he's there for me or does something spectacular and then disappears. Every single time, I let it destroy me. I go through phases of wondering what's wrong with me and what's wrong with him, of hating him and blaming him, wanting to talk to him and fix him, and finally, wanting to give up, put a shield up around my heart where Boone is involved, and move on.

I'm basically a hamster on a wheel, and I can't escape.

Even while I was waiting, I never expected him to show up. More than that, I didn't expect him to look wild—so much so that he didn't even notice me. It was like he had one goal in mind, which was finding me. In fact, seeing him like that put me in a phase where I wanted to talk to him and fix him, so my only defense was to deliver my line and leave.

I have no idea where I'm driving to, until I turn into the cemetery, heading straight for Declan's grave. When I get to the area where he's buried, I pull off to the side of the one-lane road. I send a quick text to Kara, letting her know I'm visiting Declan.

My heart drops when I see her response.

Kara: Okay. Take your time. Tell him hi. Don't forget Dad and my mom are coming over for dinner.

Dad and Kara's mom, Deirdre, come over on the first Tuesday of every month. After Kara adopted me, she stopped talking to her family, other than to send my dad bills. Deirdre eventually reached out, and the Tuesday dinners were established. I don't think anyone likes them, but we suffer through them anyway.

I reply I'll be home soon, then walk down a line of graves to Declan's. The funeral home he's in doesn't allow anything except for flat-to-the-ground grave markers. In a way, this made my selection easier. Other than his name, date of birth and death, there wasn't anything else I would want to put on it. No activity emblems or favorite lyrics or memorable sayings.

When we were younger, Declan liked a lot of things, but eventually he only wanted, needed, and lived for one thing: drugs. Not exactly an appropriate hobby for a headstone.

I hated him for so long because of the drugs. I wanted him to love me with the same ferocity he craved them. I don't think that he had the capacity to, so instead, I loved him enough for the both of us.

"Hey," I say and check for goose poop before I sit down. I put my hand on his name. Every time I come to see him—which is about twice a week—I do this, and there's a little imprint of my hand now. "I'm not sure why I came here. I mean, normally I go to Kara … but here's the deal: your best friend, Boone— he sucks. I really wish I knew what the deal is behind all of this. Is there a reason why he's in my life and we keep doing this? Or is it all just … nothing?"

I go quiet for a second, waiting for a breeze or a bird or any type of sign from him—even something I can pretend is a sign—but there's nothing out of the ordinary.

I close my eyes, letting a breath out through my nose, feeling my emotions from yesterday bubble up. "But if I start talking about reasons and God’s plan, then that means that it was in His plan for you to die. And you're your only reason, Declan. You and your stupid addiction. Why did watching Tish and all of her boyfriends waste their lives away keep me on the straight and narrow, but you … you left me? You told me I left you, but you left me."

When I open my eyes and still feel nothing, I pull my hand away from the grave and drop it to my lap. "Why did you have to leave me?"

#

By the time I make it back home, my eyes are dry and my face is puffy. I meant to leave the cemetery sooner, but I ended up laying with Declan for the longest time—watching the clouds.

My dad and Deirdre's Porsche is in the driveway, parked where I normally park my bug. I sigh as I pull up to the curb across from the driveway and get out.

The house is completely silent, other than the sound of bluegrass music playing in the kitchen. Kara's not particularly fond of it, but she always plays it when Dad comes over because he hates it.

"Great, you're home," Gabe says, making me jump. "Whoops, sorry to scare you."

I turn to face him. He's standing beside the door in a nice button-down shirt and khakis, a beer in his hand. His hair is wild because he tends to run his hand through it when he gets nervous.

I stand on my toes and reach out to fix it. "I'm sorry I'm late."

He shrugs. "I can't blame you when I wish I was."

"Is it that bad?" I fall back on my heels.

"It's just quiet as all-get-out. These people can say whole sentences without moving their mouths. I'll never get over how easily Kara assimilates."

I can't help but agree. My fun-loving, happy-go-lucky sister becomes an angry, glaring, cat on the prowl around our father. "I'll go get changed."

"I'm going to pretend I'm still in the process of grabbing this," he says, motioning toward the beer.

He disappears back in the direction he appeared from, which is en route to the garage, where we keep the refrigerator with all of the beer. Gabe never drinks, except for these Tuesday nights.

I quickly head up to my room and change into something more fitting for dinner with my father and step-mother—a simple cream dress. I throw my tangled brown hair up into a mess of a bun, fix my eye makeup, and then make a face at myself because my eyebrows look exceptionally bushy.

However, on Tuesday nights, there's nothing better than that, because the man who cannot deny me (other than for the several years he actually did deny I was his daughter) has the same bushy brown eyebrows. His genetics were kind enough to bestow upon me such a lovely feature that no amount of waxing or plucking can fix.

I can't help myself from looking out at the windowsill. There's nothing. He got the message—well, the metaphorical one. I don't know why, but my heart stalls out for a second. I should be happy there's nothing. It means I won't have to deal with him trying to come back into my life anymore. But at the same time, I'm disappointed because I always hope he'll prove me wrong.

Downstairs, Kara is setting the table. She gives me a wide, almost manic, grin as she puts a bowl of salad down with a clank.

"Hey, Carter," she says.

I smile back, trying to be bright and happy. I like to think I'm doing it for Kara, but really, I want my dad to realize he's missing out on a great daughter. The plucky, sort of grumpy, quick-witted me isn't exactly the type of person you wish you had in your life. I'm sort of an acquired taste and, when you only see someone once a month, you're probably never going to get around to any sort of acquiring—so I pep myself up.

My dad—the devil himself—Ray Cash, is sitting at the head of the table where Gabe usually sits. He's in a suit and tie, looking more like he's at a mob-themed dinner party than a dinner with his daughters. His hair is slicked back to hide his bald spot, and he's wearing a gold watch, gold-chained necklace, and gold rings. I've always wondered what types of dealerships he owns—if he really onlysells cars. I mean, if he's dealing drugs, then that would make sense how he met my mom.

Probably the second biggest hint Ray is my father (and that my mom didn't like me from the very beginning) is that she ran with Cash part, naming me June Carter—as in June Carter Cash, singer, songwriter, and wife to the Man in Black, Lukeny Cash. Only, thanks to my dad's request for "no scandal," I went by my mom's last name: Hart. So, instead of June Carter Cash, I'm June Carter Hart, which is weird.

It makes me feel like the knock off.

The consolation prize.

Deirdre doesn't look anything like a mob boss's wife. She's wearing a pale blue dress that makes her eyes seem extra bright and kind, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail that's just as perky as Kara's. She's too good for my dad, especially since he's cheated on her at least once. Heck, even Tish was too good for him.

She stands up from her chair and walks toward me, her arms open. I'm not sure why she's always been so nice to me, other than the fact that I'm Kara's family. She should despise the product of her husband's affair.

"You look pretty, Carter," she says as she squeezes me tight. "Kara said you were visiting your brother. I thought about you yesterday with it being a year and all. How are you holding up?"

I stare at her, trying to reign in my emotions. I thought I was all out of them after visiting Declan, but I guess I was wrong.

My dad didn't come to the funeral because he was working, but Deirdre did. She and Gabe took turns holding the hand that Kara wasn't. The three of them stepped into the role Tish should've been in. Instead, she went off on a bender and didn't come back.

"I've been better, thank you," I tell her. For some reason, I don't see a flash of Declan as I usually do; instead, I see that stupid note from Boone.

"You poor thing," she says.

"Ice-cream makes it better," Gabe says, materializing in the kitchen. He kisses Kara on the cheek, which probably means he's been gone this entire time. Going to find a beer can be a very involved task when you’re trying to avoid your in-laws.

"After dinner," Kara emphasizes.

Gabe only shrugs.

"You're a doctor, Gabe," she reminds him. "This stuff is supposed to be important to you."

Gabe shrugs again and takes a seat at the table as far away from my father as possible. I sit down across from him, leaving the spot beside me for Kara. For the rest of the night, my dad probably won't acknowledge me, unless there's something he can criticize me over. As it is, he's staring down at his phone with those eyebrows drawn together.

Kara makes quick work of putting a plate full of pasta in front of each of us then sits down. We eat in silence until Deirdre sets her fork down and looks at me.

"Have you made a decision about school yet?" she asks.

She means it as a conversation starter, but she's unknowingly opening a can of worms. I glance helplessly at Kara, hoping she'll know what to say. She's staring right back at me, looking just as lost.

Kara's always been really supportive of me in everything I do, so when I told her I wanted to wait a year before starting college, she was okay with it. I don't want to waste valuable time and money when I have no idea what I want to do. I mean, I don't even know if I want to go to college. We were planning to just keep it to ourselves, because Dad is not going to be happy about this, but now we don't have a choice.

"Carter is going to take a semester or two off," Kara says slowly, turning her attention to Deirdre and only Deirdre. "She needs time to figure her future out."

"Figure her future out?" Dad's voice is eerily quiet at the other end of the table. Lethal. "I've been putting money away for her to attend college. More than enough. It's not there for her to waste."

"I'm not wasting it," I say automatically, heat rising in my cheeks. "I haven't even touched it."

Kara puts her hand on my knee and turns her gaze toward our dad. She's close to going into her mama-bear mode. "That money is in her savings account for her to do whatever she wants with, Dad. She can go to college or become a clown for all I care. It's there so she can be comfortable and follow her dreams."

There's something else, and it goes unsaid—how because of my dad, I wasn't comfortable for a long time, and I didn't even have dreams. But my dad doesn't care about any of it. He'll do anything to keep any subject about his illegitimate daughter quiet.

"She better not become a clown," he grumbles.

You don't want me following in your footsteps? My dad's the biggest fool I've ever met. He might be rich, but there's nothing else to him. That's his defining attribute, other than maybe his eyebrows.

Deirdre is red, clearly embarrassed about starting the squabble. Gabe takes a swig from his beer and points between Kara and me. "Sorry to tell you, Deirdre and Ray, but we're going to have to reschedule for next month. Thinking about vacationing in Alaska. Carter's going to learn to tame bears while we're there. Practice for the circus, you know?"

He winks at me, and I try to hold back a snort. Beside me, Kara doesn't even bother being subtle; she laughs.

#

"Well, that went smoothly," Kara says as she shuts the front door, not even bothering to wave to Dad and Deirdre as they drive away.

"Should I change the figurative sign to say, 'Zero Days Without Disaster'?" I ask.

"Of all the topics in the world that Mom could bring up, she went there—college. Not, “How's your summer going? Are you enjoying life post-graduation? Can you press the bread, please?"

"She did ask that last one. You just couldn't hear it over Dad demanding to see my bank statements."

She throws her hands up, momentarily speechless as she gears up to continue. "The nerve of that man. Giving you money is the least he could do."

"I know. Geez. It's not like he gave me life or anything." I reach out and squeeze Kara's arm. "I don't need him. I never have. I have you and Gabe, and that's all I need."

"If it wasn't for him, you'd have had us sooner." She sighs and kisses my cheek. "Why don't you go upstairs? I'll clean—work off my aggravation. Where'd Gabe disappear to?"

"He went to Narnia to get another beer."

This time there's a note on the windowsill when I go upstairs. If there's ever a time when we'd all be distracted and not see him, it's when Dad's here. Still, it's weird to think while the mental chaos was happening downstairs, he was doing this. As if it were peace creeping around in a storm.

Dear Junebug,

I've always wanted you. I just didn't know how to have you.

Love,

Boone