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Chapter Thirty-Nine

Scarlett

I wasn’t sure what to expect from Carter’s reason for wanting to talk. I had imagined a lot of scenarios, but this was not one of them. Honestly, I was hoping he was calling to apologize.

He wants me to sign a waiver of prosecution.

Carter got a conditional acceptance to Yale and one of the conditions is he needs a clean criminal record, so he’s worried about the possibility of me placing charges against him at some point in the next six years, when the statute of limitations apparently kicks in.

And he does apologize, but not for the reasons I was assuming. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “for bringing this up now, and making it so formal and everything. It’s just, I can’t risk this acceptance. It’s a huge deal… It’s fucking Yale, man. I can’t have anything mess this up.”

Okay, wow—so this is all about him, then. It never occurred to me that something he did to me could ever be flipped into the negative implications it could have for him.

“Gee. I’m so sorry you filming me topless and then leaking it to all your friends, and likely the entire internet at large—might inconvenience you with your college application. How horrible that must be for you.”

He sighs. “Come on… Don’t be like that, man. That’s not what I’m saying,” he backpedals. “I know what I did was shitty… Really shitty. And I swear to God I wish I could take it back. But I can’t. And I appreciate that you haven’t talked about it at all since then or anything, and—”

“Yes, because the reason I haven’t talked about it is in consideration of your feelings,” my voice drips with sarcasm.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t…” he backpedals. Again. “Look, you’re twisting my words. I know it isn’t about me. I get that. I get that it’s something I did to you, and that was shitty for you. And a hundred percent my fault. But it still doesn’t change the fact that this shitty thing I did—that was totally wrong, yeah—but that I did when I was sixteen and at a horrible place in my life… it could affect my entire future, too. And I feel like a shithead asking you to sign this form. But I kind of have to.” He sighs again. Pauses. “And if there’s something I can do for you that makes anything about what I did less shitty for you—like, in whatever way it affects you—then I will do that.”

“You could apologize! How about that? You could have done it two years ago—any time over the past several hundred whatever-the-hell days!”

“I was embarrassed. And so fucking ashamed… I thought you knew that.”

“No, Carter. I didn’t.”

“Well, I was,” he says. “I am.”

“And yet you didn’t even have the balls to get past your embarrassment to let me know that? Like your embarrassment trumped mine? My humiliation and anger and self esteem. My sense of control. ”

“I wanted to. I was going to, a couple months later. But then, I figured… you know, it was in the past and you’d moved on and stuff.”

Freaking seriously?

“You thought I’d just moved on from it in two months? That something like that just stays in the past? That I’d just, what? Forget about it? “

“Well… yeah. I, uh… I kind of did. And I mean, when I texted you the other day, you didn’t even remember who I was, so…”

“I was lying!” I yell. “Because it was humiliating enough two years ago, the way you were able to make me feel so powerless. I sure as hell didn’t want you creeping back on the scene and making me feel that way all over again. And the only way I could think to do that was to make you think what you did hadn’t affected me. That I forgot who you even were.” I roll my eyes, even though he obviously can’t see me. “But believe me, Carter, I remembered. I wish I could have forgotten.”

“Shit… I didn’t know. I didn’t realize it still upset you.”

“There is a video of me, topless and flashing my tits like some kind of porn star or something—out there in the universe, for the rest of eternity, Carter! That you put out there! And that might pop up when I apply to colleges, or for my dream job someday, or when my future husband is surfing the net! Or my future kids! So yeah, it still fucking upsets me! It will always upset me.”

There’s total silence after that. And finally, “I am so sorry, Scarr. I…” He sounds like he’s crying. “I never thought about that. I never… It never occurred to me it was like that for you. That it’s never over. How it could affect all that stuff… I’m so fucking sorry.”

Now I'm crying, too. I don't say anything. Just concentrate on breathing normally so Carter won't be able to tell.

“I'm a fucking idiot," he practically whispers. "I never thought... I just—I figured it was one shitty thing that we’d dealt with and moved on from.” He inhales, and his breath sounds shaky, too. “Which, yeah, was really stupid of me… And makes me even more of an asshole. And… fuck! " Another pause. "Then I go and ask you to sign a stupid fucking form to… Look, I'm sorry, Scarr. About asking you to sign that thing.” He clears his throat. "Look, I'll let you go. And I promise I won't contact you again." Then he repeats, "I'm really fucking sorry. I—"

"I can't sign the form, Carter." I cut him off. "But I can promise you that as long as this is it—as long as it doesn’t come up that you did this to some other girl… in the past or in the future—then I give you my word that I won’t press charges against you.”

Another silence.

“Yeah… Okay.” He clears his throat. “I get that… That’s cool. I mean, thank you.”

“Okay.”

“I really am sorry, Scarlett.”

“Yeah, well, just… Don’t ever do anything like that again. Even if it’s some girl you hate or whatever. Don’t. It’s permanent. And it’s horrible.”

“I swear, I would never… I haven’t ever done anything like that since then. Shit, I was so ashamed. I felt like the biggest lowlife.”

“You were the biggest lowlife.”

There's another long silence and I hear him swallow. “Thanks for talking to me, Scarr. And tell that guy from the bonfire—the Maytag Kid… Tell him—"

"His name's Dylan."

"Okay. Tell him I’m sorry I was a jackass. I didn’t get why he was being such a dick to me. But I get it now.” He lets out a breath. “Should have let him throw another couple punches.”

“You probably should have."

“Okay. Take care, Scarr.”

“Yeah, take care… Good luck at Yale.”

I hang up then stare out at the backyard from my window seat, feeling a little empty. But in a good way. There were things I said to Carter I’ve wanted to say since that summer. Some things I never even knew I felt.

And I believe Carter, that he truly didn’t realize the far-reaching effects or the gravity of his actions from that one day. And I do think he’s sorry. It doesn’t diminish what a shitty thing it was that he did. But the conversation did make me feel less shitty about it. I feel a little lighter. A lot more in control. It means something to me that I was able to have my say. It means even more to me that, once Carter understood the meaning behind my words, I was heard. I think really, that’s what I wanted the most.