Cary and Carly Cartwright were high school sweethearts. Married now for way too many years, it seems. But they were always the cute couple back then. He was co-captain of their division champion football team. He wasn’t the quarterback, though. He was the defensive end. He loved crashing through the line and doing his damnedest to smash the opposing quarterback into the turf. Every successful sack was celebrated with a chest pound, a howl at the moon and after a game he would notch an ink line on his forearm with a large safety pin and ink from a pen cartridge he kept in the glove box of his truck. Then they were clearly visible and threatening to the opposition. Now, they were just an arm blob, faded, blurred and mottled over time. They had turned kinda soft, a bit like his midsection.
Carly was the belle of Dexter, West Virginia; cute, blond, a soft southern girl who deferred to her man and wanted nothing more out of life than an MRS degree, babies who would love her unconditionally, a place with a white picket fence around it and a man who would always be there. She didn’t wind up with much of that dream world – babies, trailer on some acreage by the river, a fence falling over and a man who was still employed, at least, even as others were out of work.
Make no mistake they loved each other. Cary was appropriately jealous and would defend her. No one would mess with her or risk a beat-down. Carly was accommodating and deferential. She would even, on occasion, give Cary a blow job at the drive-in, after a big game, only after he reassured her his truck tires were so big no one would be able to see in the cab. Of course, that didn’t stop him from bragging to his buds after every session. She would also let him do her in the back of the truck on a funky old sleeping bag he kept behind the seat for just such purposes, when they would park deep in the woods. It was alright. Carly could look up into the night and watch the trees blowing in the wind or the deep stars, which were pleasantly distracting, while Cary was grunting and shoving his way to climax. He would squash down on her after, which gave Carly some sense how opposing quarterbacks felt getting sacked by him. At least, he didn’t pound his chest and bay at the moon after. He would just sorta fall asleep.
“Why do men always do that”, she thought.
Carly never let Cary forget how he ruined Senior Prom. She expected to be queen, but had instead become pregnant, which pretty well disqualified her once her fellow squad members knew and blabbed about it at school. Also, by the time prom rolled around it was fucking hard to get into her dress. Cary got drunk with his buds, threw up behind the school and then wanted to head out into the woods for some regular frivolity. She went along for the ride.
They were married by a Justice of the Peace three weeks after high school graduation, with Nathaniel Cartwright making his appearance seven months later. By then Cary was working for his Dad at the hardware store and drinking his way through most weekends. Carly kept their trailer neat, didn’t complain and spent “just oodles of wonderful time with Natey”, which is what she called their son.
A year later, Letitia, Letty, was born. She had bright red hair and the prettiest blue eyes, shocking blue like the curl of a surf wave. She died less than a year later, when Cary forgot the baby was in the back seat of the truck and went and had lunch at the diner. She overheated and died while he was having a sandwich and a couple of beers with his buds. She was dead by the time he came out and found her. Carly never let him forget that either. After the funeral, CPS came and took Natey out of the trailer for his well-being and placed him with Carly’s parents. She could visit, but Cary couldn’t. Carly went to work in the diner and told Cary he could never leave her, after all he had cost her. That was the first time he hit h
He apologized, profusely apologized. He just felt guilty about Letty and Carly made him feel so bad. He didn’t mean to strike out. He loved her; really loved her, she was always his baby, would always be his baby. He just didn’t know what to do with all his sadness and rage. Carly assured him, she knew he loved her and it really was her fault for making him feel so bad. Maybe they could go to counseling to figure out better ways. They went for two sessions. Then Cary got drunk, said he hated the counselor “who is probably telling everyone what an asshole he is. You can never trust ‘em to keep it to themselves and I’m not going back and be humiliated by that bitch.”
Years, travelled by with repetitive sameness. Cary drinking more. Even his Dad laid him off a couple of times, but always brought him back. He just couldn’t leave his son in the throws. There were a few additional occasions when Cary “taught Carly a lesson” or “needed to straighten her out about who’s the boss”. One night, Carly cracked Cory with a skillet in retaliation and that brought the world to a halt for a bit, but not for long. Carly’s parents got permanent custody of Natey.
Now, here they were sitting in the back of two police cars, handcuffed and parked next to one another, windows partly open in the lot of the Sud’s Buster Bar just outside of Dexter proper. They had both been drinking in misery after losing any chance at custody. Carly had a black eye and would probably need some stitches where she hit her head on a stool as she fell from his backhand. Cary had a split lip and a welt on the side of his cheek about the same mottled color as the line blob on his arm and the shape of a squashed hacky-sack. Carly had laid into him multiple times with a beer mug. He could smell the stench of beer wafting from his clothes. While there had been some previous rounds at bars this one was the worst.
“This is your fucking fault, as usual.” Cary yelled from his armored window. “I don’t know why you can’t just leave me alone about Letty. You know it makes me crazy. I love you Carly. Why do you do this to me?” He started banging his forehead against the divider between the front and back seat.
“Don’t blame me, you fucking neglectful asshole. You killed my beautiful baby. You aren’t a man. You couldn’t keep our baby safe. They took away our son because of you. You can’t provide shit. I was so beautiful, I could’ve had anyone, ANY ONE, and I got you, you mother-fucker. Don’t say you love me. Love means never having to duck, you son-of-a-bitch”.
“Carly, don’t say that. I do love you. You are my only baby. I love you big. I didn’t mean it, none of it. Please forgive me. I’ll go back to the therapist if you want or a new one. Don’t leave me, please.
“Fuck off. Why don’t you just kill me like you did our baby. Fuck off! When we get out, I am putting your shit in the driveway and you can come get it and get out. You will not hit me ever again. You will not keep me from my son.”
“Carly, listen, I won’t hit you again. I don’t know what gets into me. I do know, I’m just so broken. We can make another baby. I’ll do anything, honey; please.”
“I wouldn’t make another baby with you. Why didn’t you just come home and kill me after you killed Letty. You piece of shit.”
“Please Carly, if you won’t stay, I might as well kill myself. I got nothing else but you. I won’t be nothing without you. I want to kill myself Carly, I really do. I have been so horrible, so bad. I want to die.”
“Oh, stop it. If you wanted to die you would have done it already. That would have been a change, actually doing something.”
“No, really, I’m going to kill myself if you leave me.’
“Then fucking do it. DO IT! I’m not going to stop you.”
“You are such a bitch. This is exactly why this happens. You fucking grind on me and grind on me. You haven’t been nice to me in years. And you wonder why I strike out. I just get to the point I can’t take it anymore. Why Carly? I know I fucked up, but do you need to torture me?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Make it my fault, you prick. I see the picture of Letty’s on my dresser every day. Don’t you think that grinds on me?”
“We both lost our daughter.”
“No, I lost our daughter – you --- fucking --- killed --- her.”
“Maybe, I should kill you. I got nothing to live for. I’ll just beat your brains out, then get out of town and find someone else. Start over with someone who won’t beat me up every day for a mistake.”
“Maybe you should, then I won’t have to think about your MISTAKE every day” Carly wailed.
“Please Carly, I don’t mean this…I don’t mean this” Cary shouted.
“Shut-up back there.” One of the cop yelled from the hood of the cars, while drinking coffee with the other cop. “You guys are incriminating yourselves all over the place.”
“See Carly, I’m going to jail over this. You’re sending me to jail. I can’t survive jail. I could barely get through a weekend in the tank. I’ll die in there. Is that what you want for the man who loves you?”
“No, I don’t want you in prison. But, you really hurt me. Look at me and what you done.”
“I know, I’ll move out and we can go to therapy together. I’ll stop drinking, that’ll help. Can we just try to work it out? I won’t come around lessen you need me, okay? Will you try to get it right with me? Please give me another chance, honey please. I love you so much. You are always my beautiful sweetheart. I remember how beautiful you looked at our prom. I remember how gorgeous you looked when we went out for you thirtieth birthday. Guys were trying to hit on you. I had to fight ‘em off. You remember, don’t you. How we celebrated. How much fun we had. What happened later.”
“I remember. It was a great night, my birthday. You were so jealous and sweet. You can be really cute when you get all huffed up to protect me. It was like how you were when we would go out after a game.”
“See, please don’t throw it all out, cause I’ve been a asshole. I know I have. But admit it, you haven’t helped keep a lid on.”
“You’re right, I could be better. But, you can’t drink any more. You need to go to AA or something.”
“I will, sweetie. I’ll do it for you. Please, baby.”
“Wil you guys just shut up.” The cop said as he walked back to the car. “Ms. Cartwright, I’m going to take you to the hospital to have your head looked at, then we’ll see where we go from there. Is there anyone you want me to call to meet us?”
“You can call my Mom and Dad. One of them can come down. What is going to happen to Cary?”
“Mr. Cartwright is going to jail for assault and domestic violence. We have witness statements form the bartender and some of the other patrons. I assume you’ll want to press charges and it’ll move forward from there.”
“See Carly, they going to send me to prison. Carly.”
“Sir, you need to be quiet now.” Said the cop. “You should take him in.” He commented to the other officer.
“You don’t think he needs a doctor to look at him.”
“Aw, hell no. Do you know who he is. He used to pound defensive linemen down without thinking about it back in high school, when he was a big deal in town. Ask him. He’ll tell you all about it. He’ll be fine. If you’re worried have the jail nurse look him over. He’s looked worse, believe me.”
“Please, Carly. I love you, baby.” Cary kept yelling as his officer got in and drove off. Carly started weeping.
“What am I going to do?” she sputtered.
“One step at a time, Ma’am. First, I’m going to take you to the hospital.” He got in and drove off, Carly softly crying in the backseat.
Once she was escorted in and was situated on a gurney, the officer removed the handcuffs. The visit was mostly routine. She needed a couple of stitches in her head and that required shaving a spot around the cut. It brought on another bout of tears. But soon her father arrived and held her hand.
“Sir, I’m going to leave her in your care. Ms. Cartwright, an officer will be in touch in the morning about proffering charges against Mr. Cartwright. Should he call you at your parents?”
Her father chimed in “You should call her at her own home. She can’t stay with us. Neither of them can be around the boy. I’ll be taking her home from here when they release her.”
“Fine, I’ll let the officers know.” and he left.
“Dad, I want to come home. I want to see Natey. Why can’t I come home with you and be with Natey and Mom?”
“Honey, you know why. First, the Judge and CPS say you can’t just come by or stay overnight. Two, you look like crap, Carly, and we don’t want Nate to see you looking like you got the shit kicked out of you. So, give it a few days to heal up and I’ll come get you for a supervised visit at the park or something.”
“Dad?”
“No, Carly, that’s the end of the discussion. Are you going to follow through and support the charges against Cary?”
“Yes, but he is so sad, Dad. Letty broke his heart, too.”
“That doesn’t give him the right to hurt you. Your mom and me will do what we can. But, our job is now to make sure Nate is protected, from you both.”
“That’s not fair. I would never hurt Natey. I wasn’t responsible for Letty either. Why did you take him away from me?”
“Honey, you can’t protect him from Cary. You can’t or won’t protect yourself.”
“Where we are doesn’t make us bad. I love Natey. I know Cary loves him, too. But I love him. I made him. I am his mother. You are just stealing him from me.”
“I think we should drop this conversation, now.”
They sat quietly until the doctor came and released her after one final check of the stitches and bandage. They drove back to her trailer in silence, too. It was a far step away from the loving relationship they had while she was growing up. Distance at its furthest and which started getting worse from the day she told them she was pregnant and getting married.
“Night, Dad. Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Call us in a few days or so, honey. After you’ve healed up and it is not so visible. We’ll set up a visit with Nate. That way it won’t scare him.”
She slowly walked into the trailer as he drove away. It was neat inside. She was still meticulous about her responsibility to keep a neat home. She settled a couple of out of place dishes into the cabinets and wiped off the counter, “don’t want no fucking ants coming in.” She hated ants and their little marching trails across the floor or countertop. Hated when Cary would leave a half-eaten sandwich on in the sink and they would come up the pipe or something to swarm over the remains. Although it was always satisfying to wash them into the drain and then run the pig to chew them up.
She looked around exhausted. Went to lay in the bed but couldn’t. She grabbed a blanket and took up residence in Cary’s barcolounger, a little worn in the arms and sweat stained, but it held his smell and the big puffy arms were comforting. It reminded her of all the times when she was pregnant sitting in the chair with him, back against his legs and chest, feet raised as he sat behind her rubbing her swollen belly, clasping her breasts. They had even done it a couple of times in the chair while she was pregnant. She pulled the blanket up and drifted into sleep.
She woke with a start around ten to seven. She could hear the familiar sound of Cary’s big truck tires on the gravel road to the house. What the hell was he doing here, He was supposed to be in jail. She got up as quickly as the awkward departure from the tilted chair would allow and locked the door. Completed just as the engine stopped and she heard the door slam. She cowered a bit back from the door as she heard him mount the steps and pull on the door handle. When it wouldn’t open, he started banging on the door.
“Carly. Carly. Carly! Let me in. I’m home”
“Go away, Cary. You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“I live here. Let me in, honey. I’m truly sorry about last night, really. Let me in.”
“No. You come back later. I’ll pack your stuff up and leave on the deck for you to pick up, but you can’t come in. You promised to go away. You would go to AA or therapy and stop drinking before we even talked about spending time together. Now, go away.”
“I just want some stuff. I smell like old beer and blood. I can’t go anywhere like this.”
I’ll get you some stuff but you’re not coming in.”
She went to their bedroom and threw some clothes and toiletries into a fresh garbage bag and, on second thought, pulled the handgun out of Cary’s bedside table.
“Back away, Cary and I’ll put some stuff out the door. Back away. I can see you standing there.”
Cary backed up next to the truck.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I said I was sorry. I mean it. Can’t I just come in and take a shower before I go to work. Come on. The sheriff let me out when I sobered up. I had to walk back to the bar to get my truck. I’m feeling sick. Please.”
“No. You aren’t going to hurt me again. Now stay back.” She unlocked and opened the door just enough to drop the bag out, then quickly closed and relocked it.
“Really, in a fucking garbage bag. That’s what I am to you, just some garbage you can drop outside the door. Let me in Carly. I love you. I’m sorry. What else do you want from me.”
“I want you to be a better man. I had to get stitches. They had to shave a chunk of my beautiful hair off. I look horrid. My parents won’t let me see Natey. I want it to be better.”
“I want that too. I do. I’m sure you are as beautiful as ever and I’m so sorry. Please let me in, honey. I just want to hold you. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I won’t ever again. I’ll get help. Just let me hold you, honey.”
“I can’t trust you to be nice.” she said, even as she ached to just be held and comforted. His big arms wrapped around her, like the arms of the chair, in the love and safety of his lap.
“God dammit, Carly. Let me in. I need you baby. You need me. We only have each other.” Cary threw himself at the door, putting all his defensive end brute force behind it. He slammed his head and shoulder against the trailer and she could feel it rock, just as she heard him fall back hard on his ass, stunned. She looked out the window and he was there bleeding profusely from his forehead, head down, rocking back and forth. Carly grabbed some dish towels and opened the door. She ran to him pressing the towels against the cut on his head. Holding his head against her breast, like a babe in arms. She rocked him back and forth. Cary was moaning a bit. Carly started humming “Where are you going my little one, little one. Where are you going my baby, my own.” He leaned against her murmuring sorry over and over.
“I’m sorry too” she whispered. “I’m going to get you some ice. Stay here.”
She went back to the trailer and pulled some ice from a tray putting into a baggie and bringing it out to him. He was sitting, but more upright. She stood back a bit as she handed it to him.
“Can’t I just come in and sit while it stops bleeding?”
“I’m trying to be strong Cary. No, you need to stay out here. I’ll stay with you as long as you behave.
“I’m not Natey, you know. I’m not some five-year-old who needs to be told to behave myself. I’m your husband. I pay for this house. I pay the bills. I don’t deserve to be treated like this.” He started to try and get up, wobbly, which gave her enough time to run for the trailer and relock the door.
“God dammit, Carly. Let me the fuck in my house. I want to shower so I can go to work. I need something to eat. I need something for this headache. Let me in.”
“You promised. You can’t come in. Go away. Go to AA. Get some help and clean up then call me. You are scaring me.”
“Good, you should be scared of me. Now, unlock this fucking door.” Cary grabbed the handle and started twisting it and yanking back and forth trying to jerk it open. He put his boot to the door, kicking and pushing with his legs to pull it open. “When I get in there, you are going to pay for this, Carly!”
She picked up the pistol she had left on the kitchen counter and pressed the barrel to the door. She pulled the trigger three times. The roar ringing in her ears, deafening her for a moment. She could barely hear the thud as his body hit the steps and tumbled down to the wooden deck. Then everything was silent for a long time.
“Cary, Cary, are you there? Are you all right? Cary?” She looked out the window but could just barely see the lower part of his legs and the heels of his boots below. She unlocked the door and stepped out slowly. The legs didn’t move. “Cary?”
She descended the steps. Cary lay face down, not moving, not breathing. Clearly there were three holes coming out of the back of his shirt, blood had seeped through. She bent down and rolled him over. His eyes had glossed over, drying blood still on his brow. His face was at ease, though. The anger and rage were gone.
Carly stood up and walked back inside. The door was hard to close for all the torture of the last ten minutes exerted on it. “No need to lock it now,” she thought. She sat in the big chair pulling the blanket round her.
“What now? What’ll I do now? I’ve no one anymore; no Letty, no Natey, No Cary – no one to take care of me. They’ll never give Natey back now. I killed his father. I’m going to prison.” She tilted back in the chair, feet up feeling its comfort suffuse her. She remembered reading an article in some magazine about the fact that when women kill themselves it is almost never a violent death – pills, poison, cut their wrists in a bathtub – never violent. “Maybe this’ll change all that” she thought. She put the barrel in her mouth and pulled the trigger.
No one called to check on her or them. Her parents were waiting for her to improve and reach out for a visit. Cary’s dad was used to him not showing up for days while he was on a bender. He had heard about the bar brawl so he kind of expected not to see him for a while. No great loss, he’s a terrible employee any way. The sheriff’s office never called, not even to warn her they had released Cary. What the hell, it wasn’t the first time they had gotten into it; they’ll work it out.
Five days later they were discovered by an Amazon delivery driver dropping off new bath towels Carly had ordered. Cary’s body had been ill treated by sun and weather and critters. He knocked at the door, but then caught a whiff. He wandered about the yard to find a good cell signal and called the sheriff, who told him to wait until they got there. He walked down to the river to puke up his breakfast.
When the bodies were autopsied, Cary had significant damage from CTE; payback for all those smashed quarterbacks, a frying pan and beer mug. They were buried together in her parent’s family plot, next to Letty, and a small white picket fence surrounded their graves - babies, a place with a white picket fence and a man who stayed with her.
Nathaniel Cartwright graduated from high school as valedictorian of his class with a scholarship to Rutgers for academics. Natey dropped off some flowers at the grave on his way off to college. He always knew his mother loved him. He also knew he would never be back. His valedictory was about the loss of hope.