Courage & Resolve
2.1 - A Grave Conversation
Carter Reyes was broken.
At least, that was what he told himself.
He’d let his heart lead him astray back when he was 16 and stupid, and those choices, those feelings, had ruined him. Of course, Carter hadn’t felt that way at the time. He'd gone through the remainder of his adolescence loving life, with a great deal of excitement about his future. When Carter graduated high school, he was eager to find a career that would support him and his… yet, it wasn't meant to be.
Carter had dreams, once. Back then, he’d envisioned himself as a photographer, traveling the world with who he thought was the love of his life, selling photographs of spectacular sights to the highest bidder, eventually leading to him becoming someone whose work was met with widespread critical acclaim . Sometimes, he’d even gotten bold enough to dream of his work outliving him, and becoming photography that was shown to illustrate locations and concepts even long after he'd faded from memory.
But that was all before they’d ruined everything. Or, maybe he had. Carter was never quite sure of who it was he blamed. He tended to go back and forth. Some days, he pointed to his own naivety, other days, their cruelty.
The night he left was the same day he came barreling into Willow Creek that one winter night, tears blinding his eyes. His mind was awash with a whirlwind of self deprecating thoughts, telling him that he was a failure, questioning how he'd gotten to such a low point in his life that he was forced to move to a rundown house in a poorer part of the world. Speeding down the road, likely going way past the speed limit, Carter was suddenly startled into reality by the sudden crack of a gun. He heard the sound of something striking his windshield, and then whizzing past his head to hit the empty seat beside him.
Left stunned enough that he was nearly gasping for air, Carter slammed on the breaks. As his car started to skid on the icy road, he squinted through the windshield, past the snowfall, and saw a man in his headlights, brandishing a gun. Carter screamed, and spun his wheel, trying to regain control of his truck, but it was too late.
What came next was all a blur for him. He remembered stumbling out of his car, and rushing over to the man he'd hit. He'd then tried to save the man with some rudimentary CPR he’d learned back in middle school, but a kind woman gently pulled him away. That was when he took in his surroundings, and saw two others who were around his age, who were clearly rather shaken. Carter had looked at them with a dead-eyed stare, struggling to process what was going on, and that was when the kind woman confirmed than the man was dead. The two others, who he guessed were the woman's children, didn't seem too bothered, and as Carter tried to piece together what exactly had been happening before he'd shown up, the woman offered him a comforting arm.
The next thing he knew, Carter was in that kind woman’s dining room, with a warm cup of tea she'd poured steaming in front of him. Her children had gone into their room, leaving just the two of them, their tea, and the silence between them. A single tear ran down her cheek.
Carter eventually broke the silence. “Was he… someone important to you?”
The woman gazed out the window, out at the street where they’d left both Carter’s car and the man he’d hit. Her trembling hand slowly moved up, and wiped away her tear. She almost seemed surprised that it was there.
When she finally spoke, her words were quiet. “We’ll tell the police it was self defense. You saw him with the gun, threatening me and my children and… you did what you had to.”
Carter looked down at his tea cup. “I’m sorry. I was reckless, and emotional. I wasn’t paying attention. You shouldn't have to do anything for me. I don't deserve it.”
The woman finally made eye contact with him. “No. You’re too young to have something like this on your criminal record. And… what I said was true. He wasn’t a good man.”
“I… thank you... um... I uh, just realized, I don’t even know your name.”
“Amelia,” the woman said, her face stony and unmoving. She seemed a thousand miles away.
“I’m Carter.”
Amelia merely nodded, then went back to looking out at the window, gazing out at the spot where Carter's car still sat, alongside the man he assumed was her husband. Snow was still falling, covering the scene in white.
Amelia Brown showed Carter a kindness he wouldn’t forget. When he'd hit that man, he'd been convicted that he was even more ruined than he had been, with no chance at a future, but Amelia ensured he would do no time. It was almost as if she saw something in him that he couldn’t see himself. In the days that followed, Carter was questioned by the police, but Amelia’s words protected him. He became the hero of the cul-de-sac for a brief period of time, the man who had saved three lives from what he soon found out was an embittered ex-husband.
So, when Carter finally settled into the house he’d bought, the very same house he’d been driving to that fateful night, he allowed himself to experience a fleeting moment of hope for his future, for the first time since he’d graduated high school.
It was a hope that wouldn’t last, however. Because Carter knew the truth. He was broken, and would never amount to anything.
In the months that followed, Carter didn't run into Amelia once. Even though the two of them were neighbors, he noticed that she tended to keep to herself. It wasn't due to a matter of a lack of effort on his part either. He wanted to see her again to give her a genuine apology for what he'd done to her husband, and to thank her for protecting him from the law. Yet, Carter somehow had more interactions with the wealthy family that lived across the street from him, the relatives of the famous Zoe Presley and her muse, Giovanna Cardwell. They weren't overly fond of her, telling him that Amelia rarely interacted with them either, and that the last time they’d seen her happened to be at a funeral for a mutual friend, where she’d spent most of the afternoon questioning them about the death of the deceased. They'd followed it up by saying that her eulogy was gorgeous, but Carter recognized that spending time with them wouldn't get him any closer to getting to give Amelia the apology she deserved.
Regardless of her distance, Carter almost felt as if he had a special bond with Amelia. He chalked it all up to the events of that night and her showing him such kindness, but he could also see it simply being delusion on his part. He had killed the father of her children, after all.
So, it felt like a cruel twist of fate that the place Carter finally ran into America again happened to be a cemetery. While on his way to meet someone for work, freshly shaven and cursing himself for doing it, he caught sight of her, kneeling in front of a grave in the graveyard behind Willow Creek’s church. Since her ex-husband's passing, she'd clearly gone on quite the journey, having done something completely different with her hair. He noticed that her children were nowhere to be seen. She was mourning alone. Deciding that finally speaking to America was well worth making his client wait for a bit, Carter parked his truck, and slowly made his way into the cemetery.
“Amelia,” Carter said gently.
Amelia did the strangest thing. Before turning to see who was talking to her, she breathed in, then shocked Carter by spitting on the grave in front of her. She then got up on her feet, and turned around.
“Woah…” Carter muttered, unsure of how to respond.
A silence stretched out between them. Unsure of what else to do, Carter awkwardly made his way past Amelia to read the inscription on the tombstone.
Samson Brown
Father to Jamira and Cory Brown
Amelia looked at Carter expectantly.
“...Samson, huh?” Carter asked. “It's good to finally know his name. I’m guessing that’s your ex-husband.”
Amelia nodded. “He was a despicable man. He deserved everything that was coming to him.”
Carter’s eyes widened. “Ironically, I, uh, wanted to walk over here to apologize. And to thank you, for everything. A despicable man, sure, but I doubt he deserved getting ran over.”
Amelia shook her head. “He did, Carter. That man dedicated the later half of his life to terrorizing me and my children. It’s good that he’s dead.”
“So, it wasn’t just that one incident. To be completely honest with you, I just thought he was coked up and snapped or something, and I'd screwed up and gotten rid of him when really, all he needed was rehab.”
An expression of horror crossed Amelia’s face.
“Oh- I’m sorry!” Carter stammered. “I, uh, didn’t realize… No, there’s no excuses here. I... should’ve just kept that to myself…”
“Oh, Carter, how I wish I could simply blame it all on drugs,” Amelia said bitterly. “It would be so much easier for me to accept having ever been married to that man. I'm sure you've read the news articles. It's all out there now. But yes, that was a little out of line, I won't lie to you. If either of my children started talking to me like that, well-!"
Carter breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I kind of thought you already didn’t like me, which I get ‘cause of everything that happened with Samson, and that I'd just made it worse. I want to make things right with you, Amelia.”
Another expression of horror crossed Amelia’s face, but this time, it was at her own expense. “Oh Carter, no! Because we're already being so candid here, I'll admit that I've been grieving, even though he was as terrible as he was."
"No, that makes sense to me. Sure, you ended up hating him in the end, but you two had to have had some good years together, right?"
Amelia looked back at Samson's grave. "I suppose."
"Well, I'm glad you don't hate me, at least."
"I guess I should also tell you that you moved into the home of my best friend, who passed away in the basement there. It's... challenging for me to walk down that side of the road, even to this day.
“ So, that’s why the house was so cheap," Carter chuckled, trying to lighten the conversation.
Amelia nodded. “That, and the sellers probably wanted to get rid of it quick. They’re friends of mine, and from what I understand, they rushed a few contractors in to get the house to a state where they could market it, then they sold it to the first person to jump at the chance to buy a mass produced house someone died a horrible death in… no offense, Carter.”
“None taken. I was desperate too."
The two lapsed into silence again.
"Well, I’m glad we were able to talk, Amelia,” Carter smiled. He then gave her a little wave, and started to head off.
“Oh, and Carter?” Amelia said, stopping him in his tracks.
Carter turned back around.
“Thank you for giving me and my children our privacy. I don’t think I have to lie to you and say that things aren't strange for me right now. I promise, I’m not avoiding you out of any dislike for you personally.”
Carter shrugged. “That’s good to know. I wouldn't be surprised if it was something personal, because I've certainly screwed up. Honestly, I'd get it. But, thanks."
Carter headed off before Amelia had a chance to respond. Frowning, she turned back to Samson’s grave.
Something about that boy... maybe it was the fact that he'd shaved, or just how honest and straightforward he was with her, or just him being close in age, but something about him reminded her of Cory and Jamira. It was the same feeling that had struck her that night, what had led to her wanting to protect him. He was too young for all of this, and the earnest way he approached her just now... Amelia sincerely hoped that he'd be able to recover from Samson having derailed his life as severely as he had.
“Shame on you, Samson, for ruining that poor boy’s self esteem," Amelia said quietly to the tombstone. "Talking to him just makes me sad. He must feel so guilty… you really couldn’t exist without bringing everyone else around down with you, could you?”
On Carter’s way out of the cemetery, he was accosted by Cory Brown, who was waiting for him near the entrance to the cemetery.
“Carter, right?” Cory asked.
“That’s right,” Carter said, surprised he approached him. “You're one of Amelia’s kids, huh?”
Cory nodded, then gestured for Carter to follow him. Knowing he needed to get going, Carter almost came up with an excuse to leave, but he ultimately chose to follow Cory. He led him down a jogging trail that ran by the cemetery until he got to a large tree. His sister was standing beneath it, waiting for them.
Cory went off to stand next to his sister, then he began the introductions. “I’m Cory, and she’s Jamira. The two of us have actually wanted to talk to you for a while.”
Carter grimaced. “Okay. I see what's happening here. Let me start off by saying that I truly am sorry-“
“No,” Jamira said quickly, cutting him off. “That's not what we're waiting here for. We’ve been wanting to talk to you because we want to thank you. We’re both pretty sure that if you hadn’t hit Samson when you did, one of the three of us wouldn’t be here right now.”
Carter looked back into the cemetery, where Amelia was once again looking down at Samson’s grave. He guessed that was why they hadn't joined her.
“Don’t worry about her,” Cory sighed. “It’s complicated for Mom. She did love him for long enough to have two children with him, you know?”
“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s a murderous asshole,” Jamira said, a fire in her eyes. "But yeah. Thank you, Carter. I'm glad Mom was able to keep you out of prison."
"Well, you're welcome, I guess?"
“Anyway!" Jamira said boldly. "Outside of thanking you, the two of us have one simple thing to ask of you, Carter.”
Carter gave Jamira an inquisitive look.
“The two of us? Jamira what are you- Oh...” Cory groaned. “Jamira, please don’t…”
“Don’t let all of this get to your head and pursue our mom romantically, or anything. I could totally see you developing some kind of savior complex with our mom, cause you’re practically our hero, and she is still so torn up about everything.”
Carter could only laugh. “How old do you think I am? We're closer in age than me and Amelia, she's way too old for me. Trust me. And I don’t even like women like that. You have nothing to worry about, Jamira.”
Still chuckling slightly, Carter walked off, leaving Jamira standing there with Cory, a pained expression on her face.
“Why did you have to ask him that, Jamira?” Cory exclaimed. “And why did you rope me into your stupid question? You've gone on and on about this, and I've told you every time, he's not going to date Mom! That was so awkward! Please never ask a question again. Seriously.”
Jamira gave Cory an exasperated sigh. “Back me up here! It would make too much sense, Mom is sad and lonely, her children are growing up, and bam, there’s the man who eliminated her abusive ex and saved her children living just next door, also lonely…”
"This isn't some show about lonely housewives, Jamira. Please!"
"Personally, I think I'm being completely realistic! Well, I did, before Carter told us he doesn't like women, but-"
“Just let it go, Jamira. You now know that none of that is ever going to happen, so come on,” Cory started to walk back up the jogging path. “Let’s go drag Mom away so we can get home before dark.”
"They're neighbors, it's not completely unheard of," Jamira insisted, hurrying after him.
"He's more likely to date me than Mom, apparently, and personally, I'm good! He can stay the man who saved us from our dad, and nothing more."
Their conversation trailed off as the two of them approached Amelia, who was still looking down at Samson's grave. They knew better than to bring up Samson's death around her.