Chapter Six: Raining On Prom Night
"You did not."
"I did!"
"I don't believe it. You did not have a perm!"
"I did," insisted Carter persistently, "It was back in high school. I swear they were the fashion, it was Ithe/I style to have at the prom."
"I don't remember perms on boys being fashionable at my high school." Replied Abby cautiously, eyeing Carter suspiciously over the diner table. Some how they had ended up in this small sixties diner on the outskirts of the city. Outside the grey Chicago rain forced it's way down to the flooded pavements in icy sheets willing to slice anyone who dared venture out into it's territory.
"Yeah, I had it done twice."
"Twice? That meant you thought it looked good the first time!" Abby paused for a moment to catch his reaction but his faced remained composed with his big, cheeky grin spread wide across his face, "I want to see some photos."
He replied, "You can't, I think I burnt them all."
Letting the conversation cease into an easy silence, the kind which can only occur when two people are so comfortable with each other words do not apply, Carter let his eyes wander to the window. Picking out a small raindrop which had landed gently against the window of their booth he followed it's winding trail down the glass, where it snaked amongst the others, accumulating a companion every now and then, tracing it's silent journey with his eyes. It was something he did often as a child on boring days indoors, when that classic Chicago weather had forced them to be locked inside. It was
the one way his mind could escape and run free, dreaming to his hearts content, even if his body couldn't follow suit. Mentally free but physically imprisoned.
Letting out a sigh of relaxation his slumped backwards, leaning his head back into the somehow welcoming plastic-leather of the booth, his eyes fell closed, not through sleep, tiredness or depression but through peace. Abby smiled warmly seeing how relaxed and at ease he was, he seemed a million miles away from the Carter who was dependant on drugs, who had relapsed after a bad stage in life, he seemed like the old Carter. The real Carter. The kind Carter. The compassionate Carter. The funny, willing, helpful, witty Carter she knew and loved.
"Ready to go?" asked Carter abruptly, snapping out of his quiet reflection in an instant.
Smiling Abby gathered up her coat and headed silently outside with Carter. Snapping up the umbrella, with an unusually long handle, that they had brought with them, they crowded together under it's minimal protection from the icy rain. Looking briefly at each other they began to walk, their feet pounding the flooded pavement's of Chicago as they passed deserted play-parks and crammed cafés, neither bothering to check where they were going. They let their hearts do the walking and their souls do the talking.
Even temptation can take on the most beautiful forms.