Additional author's note: Lyrics featured are from the song "I don't want to live on the moon," from Sesame Street. The character Emily is making a cameo from "iSteal Spencer Back" by x4ashes4ashes. So yeah...if you see it here, I don't own it.

Part 3: Carly

"You've got to do something." Even across the ocean, the concern in Freddie's voice is nearly tangible. I don't want to hear it. I want to hang up the phone...slip back into my pretend world. The one that's easy. Bright.

And doesn't include Spencer.

"What do you possibly think I can do for him?!" I feel my voice rise in annoyance, just a hair's breadth from a scream. "I'm in Italy. Don't you think Spencer can handle his own life?"

"No." One word so precise and painful it's like an arrow to my heart. "You haven't seen him. You wouldn't even recognize what he's become."

"What, an adult?" Tears are streaming down my face, but I don't let myself feel them. I can't. "Things change. People change. You can't expect Spencer to stay an immature, half-grown man-child forever."

There's a long pause, and when Freddie speaks again his voice wavers. "You just don't get it, do you Carly? He's broken. Broken." He laughs, although it sounds harsh and mocking. "But it's not something you have to worry about. Enjoy Italy. I'll try to make sure you have something to come home to."

There's a low *click* as the phone disconnects. I throw it on my bed in disgust, unsuccessfully trying to keep a sob from ripping past my lips. I don't want to believe Freddie, but deep down, I know he's right. And it's all my fault.

I don't know how to fix this. I don't know if I even can.

So it's easier not to try.

ooooo

"Have you heard from Spencer lately?" I sprinkle Parmesan cheese over my spaghetti, feeling a sudden influx of loneliness wash over me. It's just dinner...noodles and sauce and meatballs, but looking at it it like observing cuisine from another culture. Pasta isn't meant to be eaten this way.

Dad takes a long sip of his ice water. "Maybe a couple of weeks ago. Why?"

"Do you he's doing all right?"

He chuckles. "Are you kidding? He's got a regular 9 to 5 job. For the first time in his life, your brother isn't relying on anyone else to support him."

"That isn't what I meant." I begin pushing the noodles around my plate, feeling as though I had a lead ball in the pit of my stomach. "Do you think he's happy?"

"Does it matter?"

The fork slips from my sweaty fingers, clattering just out of my reach beneath the table. "That's rather cold of you, Dad."

He sighs, raking a hand though his graying hair. "That came out wrong. Of course I care about Spencer's happiness...he's my son and I love him." Dad's eyes have that strange steely edge in them again that I hadn't seen since the night I went to live with him. "Carly...I'm worried that you and your brother are a little too close."

I force myself to take a bite of my pasta, although it immediately turns to sawdust in my mouth. He knows. Oh God help us, Dad knows about our relationship. I want to scream. Cower. Get up and flee from the table, but I can't move. I can't even breathe.

"It's my fault, of course. I...I should have been a bigger presence in your life growing up. It makes sense that you and Spencer would cling to each other so strongly when it's as though your parents have abandoned you." He shakes his head, and the steel in his eyes melts away to sadness. "But it's not healthy."

I can acknowledge that's true.

We were lucky. Although Dad was able to see that something was off in our relationship, he wasn't quite able to piece it together. It's like one of Freddie's magic eye puzzles. Stare at something long enough and an image emerges, but until then it's just a blur of color and shapes. And had Dad been with us any longer, I'm afraid he would have seen the picture we worked so hard to hide.

But if Spencer's as bad off as Freddie claims, maybe hiding is no longer an option.

ooooo

The clock is mocking me.

I've been staring at it for hours, watching as the red numbers tick slowly towards dawn. When I could actually be awake. And throw myself in the mundane details of life so I don't have to think.

But seeing as though it's only four AM, thinking's the only thing I can do.

Nothing I do is right anymore. I keep my distance, because it's too painful to talk with him...to hear his voice and know he's out there...warm and soft and real, and I can't touch him. I find solace in the arms of others, because I hope he'll do the same. But he doesn't.

It doesn't even sound like he's living anymore.

Existing, of course. Spencer's got this new job that has Dad practically glowing with pride, so he can obviously handle going about a daily routine. But Freddie said that he's getting lost within himself and the empty loft we once shared. Apparently, he eats only enough to survive, as Freddie said that he's lost at least twenty pounds. Twenty pounds he never had to lose. I'm so afraid for him.

We can't do this anymore. I can't live in this relationship limbo where we're not quite lovers, yet not quite broken up. And it's literally killing Spencer. So I have to let him go, once and for all.

And I have to do it right now.

My hand shakes as I take my phone from the charger. The picture on my home screen is one of Spencer and I with our arms around each other. There's nothing overtly wrong with this picture, of course...at first glance, it could be a generic "best friend's" photo off of any teen girl's phone. But if you look closer, you'd notice that my hand is on his denim covered hip. And although he's smiling his typical goofy smile, his eyes are achingly tender.

The phone rings. And again. After four more, I'm terrified. Freddie's last words haunt me, and nightmarish scenarios run rough-shot through my exhausted psyche.

"Carly?" He sounds exhausted, and I immediately feel guilty for waking him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm so sorry...were you sleeping?" I did a few mental calculations, realizing that it was only 8PM in Seattle.

"It's all right." Spencer's voice is so off. I know I'm talking to him. It's the same deep tone, with the same inflections. But he just doesn't sound like himself. "I don't really sleep much anymore."

The fact that it's all my fault remains an unspoken truth.

"Freddie mentioned that." Silence claims the airway, and the distance between us has never been so apparent. "So...uh...what have you been up to? Seen much of Emily?"

Even as I speak her name, I can't help feeling a wash of absolute hatred wash over me. I know I should be grateful to her, because without her presence in Spencer's life, I never would have realized just how much I loved him. But the months of absolute torture at her hands as I watched her burrow into his heart like a parasite were just too much to bear.

"Why are you asking me about Emily?" His voice holds a twinge of annoyance, which is extremely preferable to the emotionless man I'd been speaking with moments before. "It's been almost a month since you and I spoke, and you want to talk about my ex-girlfriend?" He sighs. "What do you want, Carly?"

I don't know how to answer.

I want Spencer to be happy. That's all I ever wanted. I want to do the right thing for both of us. I want to force myself to be unselfish, even if it shatters my own heart to do so. I want to...God, I want to...

And from the deepest recesses of my mind, I blurt out a phrase I'd long since buried. "I don't want to live on the moon."

"...What?"

The tears roll down my cheeks, but I don't bother wiping them away. I'd been thinking of a song from Sesame Street...one that never failed to make me cry. Ernie had fantastic dreams of going off to visit the moon, but ultimately realized he could never be happy so far away from the people he loved. It used to make me think of Mom. But now...it summarized the way I felt in Italy so very perfectly. I could try to explain my thinking to him, of course, but my thoughts were just so twisted, I wasn't sure if it would make any sense. So I pull the tune from a decade-old memory and begin to sing.

"So if I should visit the moon,
Well, I'll dance on a moonbeam, and then
I will make a wish on a star,
And I'll wish I was home once again.
Though I'd like to look down at the earth from above,
I would miss all the places
And people I love
So although I may go,
I'll be coming home soon,
'Cause I don't want to live on the moon.
No, I don't want to live on the moon." By the end of the song, I'm a broken mess, sobbing and clutching my pillow for comfort. After a minute, I regain the ability to speak although my words are nearly unintelligible. "Spencer...I don't want to live on the moon anymore."

He's obviously trying very hard to keep it together, but the raw edge of pain cuts through his words, threatening to sever his resolve. "Then come home."

There's too much in his words. Too much pain. Too much longing. I can't have this conversation anymore.

Without waiting for him to answer, I end the call.

ooooo

The logistics of this are relatively easy. There's a flight leaving early Saturday morning, and Freddie's all too eager to pick me up from the airport.

I don't tell Dad my plans until my luggage is packed and the tickets are in my hand. He's not happy, of course. I know he's still worried about Spencer and I being co-dependent. But he's not trying to stop me either. It was as if he took his grand stab at being my parent, and now that it failed, he's relinquished all claims to me. He'll go back to being our father in name only, sending the majority of his paycheck to ensure Spencer and I can have a life. Together. But he doesn't have to know that.

It's finally over.

I'm coming home.