The Road Less Travelled – Part Four
Spoilers: Familiar with season 7? You're covered. Although this has wandered into some amount of A/U territory by now…
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Summary: Abby and Carter return to Chigago, but things aren't going to be the same.
Notes: Companion piece to Laura's Mile to Nowhere part four, which was in Abby's POV. This one is a Carter POV. Enjoy.
~*~ The Road Less Travelled – Part Four ~*~
We spend the rest of the night in denial over what has happened, ignoring it. And so nothing is awkward. I almost wish it were; I'd rather we acknowledged that something happened, but it's not to be.
And we go back to the motel room, and Cherry smiles once more at me in her almost conspiratorial manner which I now know to be her attempts at flirting, and I smile back. It means nothing, but it boosts my ego somewhat to know that I am attractive to someone out there, even if it isn't the person who matters.
We reach Abby's room first, and we stand outside and I'm not sure what I should do.
"Night Abby." I eventually say, leaning in and giving an innocent kiss on the cheek, and she hugs me quickly back.
"Thank you." She says and exits to her room. I stand outside for a while longer, leaning against the wall beside the door and replay the evening in my head, the kiss over and over and over again, and I know I won't sleep easily tonight.
I wonder what she was thanking me for, assuming that it was for taking her out, for trying to let her forget about the sad event that led us here. I'll never know for certain.
I eventually wander in the direction of my own room, but decide to go outside. There is no use in trying to sleep, I've already given up on the idea and so sitting outside underneath the stars that are barely visible seems like a much more attractive option.
The city lights obscure the view, making it impossible to even see which is the north star, and for about 2 seconds I wish I were back in the out and beyond where I could see each star individually. I sit back and lean against the wall, closing my eyes, the kiss that Abby and I shared earlier only to be replayed, taunting me.
I look across the road and only then notice the bar with it's flashing neon lights and it strikes me almost as ironic that I'd miss the most obvious thing. I stand up and slowly make my way over, dodging the cars that zoom past in the darkness, their lights illuminating the way ahead. I enter, and I see that there are few people inside. It's not exactly my idea of a nice place to go, not the tourist trap type that seems omnipresent in the midst of the casinos, but it'll do for now.
I sit at the bar and order a beer and only hope that Abby will never find out what I am doing here. I don't know why the thought bothers me, I cannot control her intake as she cannot control mine, but still I feel almost guilty for being here.
The beer is quickly consumed, but it does nothing to quench my thirst. I order another, and then another, and another, drinking them in quick succession, and I realise how easy it would be to become irreversibly alcoholic. To pretend that it couldn't happen to me, to cocoon myself from the harsh reality.
I am not an alcoholic, but I know that if I were to continue as I am, I would be unable to return down the path I once came. I stop after my fourth beer - there's no safe haven for me in an inebriated state of mind. I know that I shall remember all of the past few days in the morning as well as I do now, and although the enjoyment that briefly comes from the alcohol will cushion me somewhat from the reality, there is no escape.
I'm not entirely sure that I would want to forget my road trip, though. There are parts that I shall treasure forever in my memory, not the towns, the scenery or the endless skies, but the time that Abby and I spent together alone. Being ourselves. I know better than to expect that it shall happen again anytime in the near future, Abby has made it clear enough that she feels no different for me than she did before she left, her heart is still with Luka, and that doesn't seem to be able to change. I don't understand it now, I suspect that I never shall, especially if I am to continue drinking, but it is not for me to question.
Suddenly an overpowering exhaustion overcomes me, partly due to the alcohol, and in part to the seemingly endless days that I have spent in the car, watching the world go by, watching Abby as she alternated between hot and cold, sad and happy, detached and with me.
I say goodnight to the bartender and the Bert, the guy sitting next to me who has apparently been telling me the trauma of his life story involving many deaths, abuse and alcohol, and they wish me goodnight in return.
I make it back to the motel room and within minutes of my head making contact with the pillow I fall asleep, but the kiss is still refusing to leave me alone, and I dream about it all night. In some scenes Abby reciprocates willingly, and in others she slaps me and asks me what the hell I was trying to do. Neither is reality and I wonder what is in store for me. I doubt that it will be the fairy tale ending that is so often alluded to, and I hope that it will not end in tragedy, in my being alone and rejected.
The next morning is an early one, and I am thankful that I don't have a hangover from the previous night. We arrive at the airport promptly, and although there is some delay for the plane to take off, we aren't hanging around with nothing to do for hours. Which is a good thing since Abby and I talk very little in the time that we do spend there.
The ascent is nothing spectacular, and the cabin crew comes round almost immediately to ply us with drinks. Abby orders a coffee and I ask for an orange juice, and we receive our drinks along with some peanuts. I eat mine noisily, enjoying the saltiness followed by the savoury taste of the nut itself. Although I recall reading or hearing that peanuts are not in fact nuts but something else. I don't remember what, maybe peas, or similar. I try to remember, but Abby interrupts, and I'm glad since it's the first thing that she's said to me since we boarded the plane.
"What are you going to do with the money?" She asks, and I'm bemused.
"What money?" I ask, trying to make some connection, but lacking.
"Your roulette winnings – there must have been close to twenty-thousand dollars there." She says. I had completely forgotten about them, twenty thousand is little to me in the scheme of things.
"You can have it if you want." I offer, unconcerned.
She stiffens suddenly, and I realise that I must have said the wrong thing. "I don't want your charity." She tells me, and I set about immediately to correct her. It is in no way a charitable offer, she won the money after all and I have no use for it, but I think she may. Surely it's merely a matter of not wasting it, although I suppose that I could donate it to American Red Cross, or the hospital fund, or whatever charity my grandmother is currently supporting if Abby is so against receiving it.
"It's not charity – you were the one placing the bets, you picked the right numbers, so you should have the winnings." I say reasonably.
"But it wasn't my money to start with." She argues, and I don't see what her problem is.
"So, you give me back my stake and then keep the rest," I suggest "You could use it to pay for next semester's tuition." I recollect as soon as I say it that Abby had told me that she was considering not returning to med school, but it's out there now.
We argue for sometime more, and I'm bored of it. I can't live like this anymore can't she see that? Then she accuses me of practically using her as a prostitution service, paying her for the idea that she might sleep with me and I am beyond offended. I'm mad, there is no way in hell that I would ever take advantage of her like that, but I'm tired of arguing, we do it too much and nothing ever comes of it, so I merely apologise. I'm not sure I mean it. Well, I do, sort of. In the way that I would never wish for her to think that I would pay her for sex, but I'm still uneasy that she would even suspect me of trying to do something so low and shallow. I only hope that we can stop here and say nothing more if we are to say nothing positive.
But she's pissed at me, and I'm hopeless and helpless and so I apologise for kissing her. I'll never regret it, but it seems as though she does, and if she has negative feelings about it, I was obviously in the wrong. Damn, I hate feeling like this. But it can't be helped. "I was out of line." I tell her. And I mean this. If she has any regrets, it can only have been a mistake, which is unfortunate, as I know that it was the right thing to do, especially since my recent conclusion that I was in love with her.
"You're damn right you were." She replies, pulling away from my outstretched hand as far as she possibly can, and I feel beyond guilty. How could I ever have put her in such a situation? She already has Luka, she's reasonably happy with him as far as I can ascertain, I'm only an unnecessary complication in this already confusing matter.
But I know why I did interfere. And it's for the very same reason as the conclusion that I came to. "I guess it's just hard." I say, and I know I must tell her the truth, she deserves as much, if only so as to use it to push me away as far as possible. "Because…" I start, and I'm not sure I can go through with it. I know that my feelings will not be reciprocated, but I plough ahead nevertheless. "Because I love you." I say. And I laugh, a nervous laugh. I've not had to do this in sometime, and the last time I declared such a sentiment, I knew that the other person would repeat it back to me. "I know I shouldn't and God knows I try not to – but…" I falter. Do I really need this humiliation on top of everything else? "I'm just making things worse, aren't I? It's okay, I'll shut up now. You can forget I ever said anything." God, why did I have to tell her that? There is no way that I can detract it now, no excuse for my insanity, no alcohol, no temporary mind altering state. It's out there now, and there's nothing I can do. How much longer do we have to go on this flight?
I want to cry almost, but I can't. I'm male for one thing; it's not the thing to do. And I can't in front of Abby, anyway. I don't want her to think that I am more out of my mind than previously suggested.
If only she'd say something right now, or do something. Anything, no matter how small. To laugh at my suggestion, hit me; stare at me with an incredulous look upon her face, anything, any resolution. But nothing comes to be, and I feel so very, very awkward for the rest of the flight and wish that I could do something to take it back.
Silence pervades the space between us until I drop her off at her apartment later in the evening and she tells me that she'll see me tomorrow. It is the first thing that she has said to me since my ill-timed declaration, and I'm somewhat relieved that she isn't going to avoid me for eternity.
"Sure." I reply, avoiding looking at her. I couldn't face it right now, not to see the pity on her face, or the laughter at such a notion, and I plan to make a move away, get back to my own place where I can hide forever.
But she surprises me. "I won't forget." She tells me, and my breath catches in my throat, and I'm not sure that she means what I think she does. "I won't forget what you said." She says and I have nothing to say in response. I only wish I did, but she walks away from the car before I can formulate any kind of sentence, and I drive away from her apartment block.
I get back to my own apartment and happily climb into my shower after the long day. I feel refreshed afterwards, but my own words come back to assault me and I keep getting embarrassed every time that I remember. But then the kiss and her last words rush back to me in a moment of pleasure, and I think that maybe everything isn't so screwed up after all.
I may not get the girl, and she may not reciprocate the feelings, and it's not the ideal fairy tale, but here's a drink and a toast to the good things in life.
She won't forget what I said, and it's not a declaration of undying love, but it's more than I was ever expecting.
To Be Continued…?
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