Page 27 of Carter

“This isn’t what I wanted my life to be. It’s not what it was supposed to be. Ryan and I had a beautiful apartment in aniceneighborhood. We had friendly neighbors who used to borrowsugar and milk and actually return it. Not people who won’t even look at you because they don’t want you to remember their face.”

A few responses run through my head, and I’m not sure what to say. Telling him life throws us curveballs sometimes diminishes what happened to Ryan, so I can’t say that. Telling him that it’ll get better feels cheap and generic. Supportive feels like the right direction.

“You’re still dealing with the loss of someone who was a big part of your life. It’ll take time for things to get to a place you want them to be.”

“How long? It’s been three years.”

“You can’t put a time frame on it.”

“How long did it take you?”

I watch him carefully and give him an honest answer. “I’m still not sure I’m there, but I’m getting closer.”

He huffs a humorless laugh. “That’s not helpful.”

“No, but it’s realistic.”

I am not the right person to help him, at least not in this capacity. I am not a therapist. I’m giving him too much of myself, but something tells me I need to. Something tells me he needs to know that he’s doing okay, that he’s doing what he can, that it’s okay to not have your shit together all the time, especially after losing someone. We can relate. And it’s not my job to make sure he’s okay, even if it’s what I want to do. My goal is to solve this case. But if I can help him along the way, I’m going to do it. I wish I had someone to help me through these last twenty years.

“Let’s just get started,” he mutters.

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this still? If not, you can tell me.”

He scoffs. “You picked me up from group, drove me to dinner, paid for my dinner, and then brought me home. It’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Carter. I don’t care about what I’ve done for you. If this is too much, you need to tell me.”

“It’s always going to be too much,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” I agree. “So you need to decide if it’s something you can handle right now or if it’s something that needs to wait for another day.”

He’s quiet for a moment, staring at the floor. “I need to do this.”

“Okay.” I pick up my notepad and get comfortable on the couch so I can take notes. “Tell me what happened that night.”

He flinches, then takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His gaze stays on the floor, hands clasped together, fidgeting. I give him the time he needs—I’ll stay here all night if that’s what it takes. It’s not like I have something to go home to.

“We had gone out to dinner, like we always did on Thursday nights. It was the one night we had off together, so we always went out to eat. Sometimes we went to the movies after. We had money to do that then. It was a mostly safe neighborhood, so we didn’t think anything of walking home. We always did. It was cold out, but Ryan loved the winter, and I dealt with it for him. We got to the alley to cross through, because it’s shorter than walking around the block. A lot of people use the alley, even though it’s dark. We’d done it a hundred times before.”

He clears his throat, taking a moment to breathe.

I want to tell him it’s okay, that he can keep going, but I know he will.

“We were just a few feet in when we heard something. Crying. Then a man’s voice but we couldn’t make out what was going on. We didn’t say a word, but I felt that something was up. There was another sound, like a bang against the dumpster. Ryan called out to ask if someone was there because he was the brave one. No one answered. It was quiet. We kept going, Ryan moving faster to see what was happening. I reached for him, somethingin my stomach telling me something was wrong, but he was too far ahead. He swore, then ran toward the dumpster. He shouted at someone to ‘get the fuck away from her.’ Then everything happened so fast.”

He goes quiet again. I take notes, watching as he takes breaths to calm himself down. His eyes fill with tears, and I see the way he’s tensed up. This isn’t easy. I had to go over what happened with my parents too many times, but I did it so they wouldn’t have to ask my brothers to go over more. I made sure to take that burden from them. Carter doesn’t have someone to do that for him and I really wish he did. Maybe it would be a little easier for him.

“There was shouting. Screaming. A man and a woman. Ryan cried out. The man and woman ran off, and I went to Ryan, wondering why he wasn’t running back to me. His hand was on his side, and he moved just right so the light came down and showed blood oozing from his side. It was—He—” His voice breaks, and I put my pad down on the coffee table and scoot closer. I put my hand on his back.

“It’s okay if you need to stop,” I say carefully.

He shakes his head and wipes his eyes. His body is trembling, hands twisted in the bottom of his t-shirt.

“He looked at me and he was so scared. So fucking scared.” His voice cracks as a sob breaks through. “It terrified me because he never looked like that. He was always so brave, so happy, so ready for anything. And if he looked scared, then I knew I had to be scared too. Only, I couldn’t be. It took a moment for my brain to work, but I pulled out my phone to call 911. Ryan fell against the wall, sliding down to sit. It’s all flashes of memories at this point. My phone is on the ground, the call on speaker. I’m applying pressure. Ryan has tears in his eyes. He’s shaking. I’m shaking. My vision is blurry. Then there are lights. EMTs. He’s on a stretcher. We’re in the hospital. A doctor walks out. Thereis still blood on my hands. My clothes. I don’t hear the words but I know what he’s telling me. Then I fall to the floor. I swear I’m having a heart attack, but who has a heart attack at twenty-eight? I don’t remember much after that.”

I realize my hand is still on his back, rubbing gently. He hasn’t told me to stop. Maybe he doesn’t realize. Maybe it’s helping. So I don’t stop.

“Do you remember speaking to the police?” I ask.