CARTER'S SHADOW
Chapter 44 - By Christopher Patrick Lydon
Will took a deep breath as he slipped his corduroy jacket on
over the grey flannel shirt he was wearing, stopping a moment to add a scarf
which he slipped under the rumpled jacket. Scooping up his keys he set off
downstairs.
There was the usual bustle in his kitchen, Lisa watching the
news while preparing some breakfast. Will smiled to himself as he entered,
making a beeline straight for the coffee pot.
"It arrived," Lisa said, glancing past him towards
where Peter was doing his own usual morning ritual sitting smack dab in the
middle of the rug.
Will barely looked up; he felt exhausted, he'd slept poorly
the night before, tossing and turning with the same old nightmares, and he
realized he'd really missed Andrew's comforting presence.
He closed his eyes, gripping his coffee mug; he'd gone straight
into the past he wanted nothing to do with...
Lisa touched his arm, and Will flinched violently, knocking
his coffee mug flying.
"Shit!" he cursed, jumping back from the scalding
coffee.
"Will?" Lisa stared at him in shock; she hadn't seen
him react like that in a long time. She reached out to pick up the washcloth
and began to mop up the spill, while Will steadied his nerves.
"I'm okay," Will replied, smiling tightly as he picked
up the metal travel mug, which now had yet another dent in it to match the
others. "I'm just tired."
Lisa opened her mouth to admonish him again about his choice
of jobs, but something in his eyes caused her pause, an anger that was almost
daring her to say something. She backed off, "Sorry..."
Will set his mug down and poured his coffee again, taking the
time to cool down as he stirred in the sugar. It wasn't Lisa's fault he was
stressed, too much over such a short time. His fight with Andrew, asking his
father for a favour, work... he felt permanently on the edge and all he wanted
was to get it out... but taking it out on Lisa wasn't the answer and he knew
that.
"No," he said, forcing the calm back down again, "it's
my fault, just with everything..."
"You and Andrew have another fight?" Lisa asked, sitting
back down on her stool and cradling her own mug of coffee.
"Yeah," Will nodded taking his seat across from her,
and drew his hair back from his eyes with a simple brush of his fingers.
"Want to talk about it?" she offered, smiling as she
glanced down over what he was wearing. Reflecting that Will looked more and
more like a university professor she'd had a crush on in her philosophy course,
she shook that thought away, realizing that her best friend had just managed
to ruin another of her favourite fantasies.
Will took a deep breath and smiled in return for the first time
that morning, "You know us, we could argue about the colour of pasta..."
"Fighting's good though, sometimes," Lisa said thoughtfully
staring into her mug. "You two are still in love, right?"
Will looked startled by the question. "Of course,"
he replied without hesitation. "It's only a fight..."
"See," Lisa said with a nod to him, "so you two
are going to be okay." She got up to slip her mug into the sink.
Will checked the time, and saw she was right--it was time to
get moving. He drained his mug and looked through into the living room. "School,"
he called, heading to the door and slipping on his shoes.
Sprog for his part rushed through to the hall, grabbing his
book bag and tamping his feet into his sneakers, grinning at Will as he stood
ready, his hair messed up and breathless.
Will rolled his eyes and tussled Peter's hair. "I'm going
to miss mornings like this," he admitted truthfully.
"There's still university," Peter grinned broadly,
"which means if I schedule my classes for later in the day..." He
glanced back towards the rug.
"Yeah, dream on," Will said, pushing Peter out of
the door towards the Jeep looking over at Lisa. "Just wait till you have
kids," he grumbled.
Lisa laughed at him, "That's not going to happen."
She smiled as she got into the Jeep's passenger side and strapped herself
into her seat.
"If it can happen to me," Will said, glancing up into
the rear-view mirror to wink at Peter, "it can happen to you."
* * *
"Hi!" Matt leaned around the locker door, his bright
face smiling up at West as the team captain was selecting his books for their
first class.
"Uh-oh," West said, taking a moment to glance down
at his friend, "I know that grin..."
Matt settled back against the locker and pushed his cap back
high on his head as he grinned wistfully, "I think I'm in love."
"You saw your reflection again?" West joked with a
broad smile.
Matt shrugged, "It's not my fault I'm pretty..." He
shook his head, "No, I'm serious..."
West stared at his friend a moment, trying to search his face,
and frowning at what he saw there. "You are serious... With..."
he looked around dropping his voice, "Blake?"
"Shh," Matt hissed, he too looking about for prying
ears, before he leaned back, the dopey grin spreading on his face again. "I
want to ask him to the Prom, but every time I bring it up, he keeps changing
the subject."
West chewed his lip, "Do you think, maybe, he might not
be comfortable with that sort of thing?"
"Why not?" Matt asked, sighing frustratedly. "He's
the one saying I'm not gay enough, and I want to show him that this is more
than just...sex..."
"Is it?" West closed his locker and tucked his chem.
book under his arm.
"Y..." Matt stopped and looked confused. "Well..."
"Do you love him, or do you love the sex?" West asked.
"Because stringing... him...along..." he trailed off as he spotted
Peter's blond head bobbing along the corridor.
Matt turned and looked where West was staring, "Speaking
of love..."
"Speaking of not stringing someone along," West corrected,
realizing at that moment what he would have to give up to follow his dream.
And suddenly he found he lacked the strength to do it, to say the truth and
spare Peter the hurt that was going to come.
"What's wrong?" Matt asked looking up, confused.
"N-nothing." West shook his head clear. "I have
to... go..." He swallowed again and walked quickly away, trying to clear
his head and think through what he wanted to say to Peter, how he was going
to say it.
He'd spent much of the night tossing and turning, trying to
find ways to say to Peter what needed to be said, but he was torn, torn between
his own happiness and the happiness of the boy he was in love with.
He found a quiet corner and closed his eyes, resting his head
against a display case, gripping his chemistry book tightly.
"Are you okay, Harding?" Coach Highmore asked, leaning
across the narrow hall from him, hands in his pockets and a quizzical look
in his eyes.
West blinked; he hadn't noticed the coach, but the stack of
leaflets announcing next year's hockey tryouts under his arm, and the bulletin
board explained why the young coach was there.
There was an awkward silence between them, as West pushed himself
upright, "Sorry, Coach, I was..."
Highmore just looked at him, not buying whatever excuse West
was thinking up.
"Can I ask you something?" West said, changing tack
in the middle of his thoughts. "If you had to choose between Mister Carter
and going to law school what would you choose?"
Highmore sank his hands deep into his pockets, looking down
at the floor as his hair hung forward, thinking carefully, looking up after
a moment. "What's this about?" he asked.
"I got an offer to join the army," West said.
"Congratulations!" Highmore said taking a step forward,
extending his hand and stopping when the full implications sank home. "Oh..."
"If I take it, it means I have to leave the country, probably
for the next couple of years," West said, looking up at the ceiling,
torn between what he wanted to do and what he should do.
Highmore's shoulders sank a little as he returned to leaning
on the wall opposite his student, slipping his hand back into his pocket.
"I don't know which I'd choose," Highmore replied honestly. "It's
not a choice I've ever had to face."
West sighed again, pulling the book close in front of him, "This
all made sense this morning, then I saw him... and..."
"Yeah," Highmore nodded, "but if this is really
something you have to do, Peter will understand."
"So you'd go?" West asked, looking up at Andrew.
"I'd probably go," Andrew nodded. "I'd have to.
Too many guys I knew in high school ended up getting a girl pregnant, getting
married and sticking around instead of going to university... the baby trap
we used to call it." He shook his head, "They only end up hating
the person they're with, blaming them for holding them back."
West nodded. "Thanks, Coach," he said with a sad smile.
"Good luck," Highmore said, turning to continue on
his rounds, leaving West to rest against the display case, thinking.
* * *
Peter found him there, standing beside the trophy case where
the schools awards were always placed, a barely travelled corridor connecting
the two upper wings of the school. The pictures of all the past graduates
hung on the walls high overhead.
It took him only a moment to spot Will's and he smiled, looking
over at West.
"Come to stare at your trophy?" he grinned and nodded
to it sitting in the case beside West.
West turned his head; he hadn't even realized it was there.
He'd been so distracted that he hadn't noticed something that had, until he'd
won it, been so important. He stared a moment, then looked back at Peter,
as the first class bell rang.
"We should get to class..." Peter began.
"J-just a minute," West said, reaching out a hand
to catch Peter before he could dart off.
Peter smiled and allowed himself to be drawn into West's embrace,
savouring the warm smell of West's sweater, as he looked up into West's eyes.
"Mister Greenwood's probably going to catch us again," he warned
with a broad grin. His smile faded when he saw the anguish in West's eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked, pulling back.
West opened his mouth and closed his eyes, letting his head
fall back to resting on the display case. "I'm sorry..." he murmured.
"Why?" Peter asked, holding tighter to West, his fists
tightening in the folds of West's jacket.
"I..." he took a deep breath, "I've been accepted
to the army."
"That's great!" Peter's eyes lit up. "You must
be...so... happy?" He looked confused at West's sad look. "What's
wrong?" he asked again.
"In England." West dropped the bomb.
Peter frowned again. "I don't understand," he said,
trying to work out what...how... He looked up, a shocked expression on his
face, "How? You're not British..."
"Major Carter..."
"Will's dad?" Peter blinked again, remembering his
one and only meeting with the Major. He opened his mouth to ask more questions,
but snapped it shut again, letting West talk.
"Yeah, he's pulling strings, I don't know how he's managing
it, but he's arranging citizenship papers and my acceptance to Sandhurst...
it's a royal officer's school." He swallowed again.
"Wait..." Peter shook his head, "Will was talking
about this last year when Andrew wanted to know how to get a British citizenship...
doesn't it take like five years?" His mind was reeling at what West had
just said, on the fact that the Major had done this, and the meaning of it
all sinking in slowly.
"I don't know," West replied. "He said it wouldn't
be a problem; I don't know how he's doing it, but..." He looked down
at Peter, and bit his bottom lip to stop it from betraying that he was hurting.
Peter closed his eyes and sank his head against West's chest.
"When are you going?" he asked, his voice suddenly very small and
thin.
"A week or so," West said, his hands brushing through
Peter's hair, feeling the fine strands slide silkily over his fingers.
"A week..." Peter repeated again, and he felt a lump
in his throat. He couldn't start crying, he didn't want to start crying. His
fists balled again in the jacket and he sniffed back his tears, "That's
not long..."
"No," West said shaking his head, "but... I have
to go."
"Why?" Peter demanded irrationally, leaning back to
look up at West, "Why do you have to go? Why can't you just stay here?"
"It's what I've always wanted," West replied; holding
onto Peter a moment suddenly seemed so very important, that the longer he
held him the longer they were together. "I get to serve, with honour,
and be treated with respect in return."
Peter's grip tightened as he hugged West again. "You're
an asshole," he murmured into West's neck. "Just when we're... you're
going to..."
"I'm sorry," West swallowed again.
Peter looked up and smiled faintly. "Don't be," he
said shaking his head, his blue eyes welling up. "I'm just being selfish."
"We both are," West smiled back down at him. "And
I understand if you don't want to come to the Prom..."
Peter shook his head. "It's our first date," he said
as a tear trickled down his face. "I'm not going to miss our first date...
even if it is our last..."
* * *
Will found Peter crying on the couch later that evening. He
had come straight home from work, not having to wait for Andrew, to find his
little sprog wrapped in a blanket staring off at the wall.
He stood a moment in the doorway to the living room, before
he set his briefcase down and crossed to the couch, putting a hand on Peter's
arm lightly.
"Sprog?" he asked in concern.
Peter had his arms around Will in no time flat, sobbing into
his shoulder. Heart-wrenching sobs that caused the boy to shudder each time
he took a breath. His tears soaked through the flannel of Will's shirt as
his big brother just held him tightly.
"Hey..." Will said softly. "Hey... what's all
this?" he asked, stroking Peter's hair as the boy clung on, his world
seeming to end.
Peter opened his mouth as a wail of incoherent words came out
between the sobs. And Will waited patiently for Peter to get it out of his
system.
"It's okay," he said softly. "You'll be okay...
slow down and tell me what happened."
Peter shivered again and spoke again, "W-west...Army...England...."
Will wrapped his arms around his sprog and sat there with him,
nodding, "He's going, then?"
Peter nodded, his cheek sliding on Will's shoulder as he sniffled.
"It's what he always wanted..." he murmured quietly.
"It just means he has to leave," Will said, understanding.
"He can come back..."
Peter nodded, still crying but Will's comforting him had stopped
the sobbing. "I know..." he murmured quietly. "It's just...
I.... like him... a lot... and..."
"I know," Will said, "I know you do..."
Peter cried most of that night, eventually falling asleep in
Will's arms as the older man affixed his own gaze on the same patch of wall
Peter had been staring at, wondering about his own life.
