The Journalist and Her Actor

Chapter 17

"I can stay here by myself," Carter insisted as I began to shove articles of clothing back into the closet. Carter followed it up by yanking them back out and throwing the clothes back in the suitcase, and around and round we went.

"You can't stay here alone!" I protested, yanking the clothes back out of the bag.

"Em, it's Hawaii!" he protested. "Duke can just—"

I slammed the suitcase shut, stopping him in his tracks. "Duke isn't available!"

Carter paused, fists filled with clothes falling to his sides.

Duke was going to be out of town, and I refused to leave Carter alone. He was twelve and lived a life on a tight rope. I couldn't afford to be gone for a week or more. Not without someone I trusted to watch out for him.

I watched guilt fill Carter's eyes as he slumped down on the edge of my bed. "I don't want you to miss things because of me," he said quietly. "It isn't fair."

His fingers tugged along the fabric of my clothes, eyes distant. "I keep ruining things."

I shook my head but he kept going. "Don't try and make me feel better, Em. You've been taking care of me all by yourself. Mom and dad haven't come home yet even though they've been due to take vacation time for months..."

He leaned back on the bed and closed his eyes. "I wish I could come. I wish the doctor would let me travel with you."

Sudden anger roared through me, reminding me of Luke's words when he had noticed my anger at my parents. At how I had felt left alone to handle everything. I wanted to erase the guilt on Carter's face. How he felt personally responsible for things that no twelve year old should feel.

None of this was his fault. "I'd pick you every single time kid," I said quietly.

He dropped my clothes onto his face, hiding. "I know. I just wish... There was room for us to be siblings. To fight about stuff. To be normal."

I blinked back tears of frustration. "Normal is overrated."

Then I walked out of the room, on an angry mission. Ducking out onto the fire escape outside our living room window, I glared down at my phone, forcing myself to call two numbers I hadn't heard anything from in months.

My dad's phone rang and rang with no answer. I moved on to my mother's number. She picked up on the third ring. "Heeeey Honey!" she shouted over the roar of an engine.

"Hey mom, I—"

I suddenly heard her shouting at someone on the other side of the phone. "Yeah, almost done! Hold your horses!" She let out an exasperated sigh. "Sorry hon, what were you saying?"

I had quickly learned that fast conversations were the only way to get information across with either parent while they were working, so I took the plunge, trying to keep my irritation at bay. "When are you and dad coming home?"

Her answer was instant, like it had been the last three times I had asked. "Oh, sweetie. I wish it was now, but your father and I are still both a few states away. Maybe in a few months—"

"You have a lot of vacation days mom. Carter needs you guys and you should be here," I said, no longer able to play nice. I had spent years torn between making excuses for them because their job required so much of their time, and being angry that I never tried hard enough to make them see how it hurt Carter and me.

"I know you guys work really hard, and maybe I haven't made it clear how much we need you at home, but—"

"Em," my mother said, her voice firm. "We don't have any vacation days."