Page 20 of The Transfer
“My dad has anger issues, and his temper is short. He would take things out on my mom, but as I got older, I also became a target. He realized that I was headed somewhere for basketball, and he expected nothing less than perfection on and off the court. My mom was to be his trophy wife, both in public and in private.
“He never physically touched us, but the words and threats he made against us were painful and left a different kind of scar. I took those words and used them to fuel me in basketball so that I could get away from him and that house forever. My mom, on the other hand, turned to alcohol. She hid it from me for a long time, saying she was sick or just tired. I grew up thinking that was just how she was, how all moms were. When I got older, she gave up the charade. It started small, a few extra glasses of wine after dinner, but eventually, she was drinking morning, noon, and night. My dad didn’t want to deal with her, so if he didn’t need us for something, he left us to our own devices.”
He pauses for a minute, like he’s not sure he should continue. I give him an encouraging smile and place my hand on top of his, which he quickly flips over and intertwines our fingers. The nostalgic thrumming I feel at his touch brings goose bumps to my skin. He gives me the smallest hopeful grin before continuing.
“With my dad gone a lot, I spent most of my time outside of school and practice at home taking care of my mom. People wanted to start all kinds of rumors about me back then. You know because it was the same with Jordan. And you also know that most of those aren’t true. Anyway, I was happy to let people talk and take the heat off anyone finding out about my mom. Until we got close. Until I wanted something real, with you.
“By the time we reached senior year, I was mostly able to handle it all. But toward the end of the year, my mom started to add pills to her wine and liquor. My dad came home a lot more because he wanted to make sure I was choosing the right school and bask in the glory of his son. That is why I started missing our tutoring sessions together. He was berating me and her most days after school, and I didn’t feel like I could leave her alone with him.”
My heart breaks all over again, but in a much different way. “Drew, I don’t know what to say. It’s too much for one person, let alone a teenager. I am so sorry I never let you tell me after, well, you know…”
“Prom,” he says softly. I have tears pouring down my cheeks at this point, and I sniffle before urging him to tell me about the night that broke us.
“That night,” he starts, “I was ready to come get you. I had my tux on, corsage, everything. Reagan, I wanted to take that night to plan things for us, to become an us. I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend. But that doesn’t matter now…
“When I was leaving the house, I realized I hadn’t seen my mom in hours. That was a guarantee she was either getting high or drunk. I went upstairs and opened her door…”
He pauses as a sob wracks his body, and I wrap my arms around him for a moment. When he looks back, his eyes are clearer, and the tears are gone. “When I opened the door, she was lying on the floor with a needle in her arm. She had overdosed, and I lost it. I ran to her and fell to my knees. Her pulse was faint, but there. I called 911 and spent the rest of the night at the hospital waiting to hear if my mom was dead.”
“Oh, Drew.” I can’t contain my own sobs at this point. Pain overwhelms me. It’s pain for Drew and all he had to face alone as a kid. I hurt for what I did, no, for what I didn’t do back then. I didn’t listen. I didn’t give him a chance to tell me. I believed all the rumors and gave up on him.
“Please don’t blame yourself.” I guess he can see my face and read myemotions. Knowing someone for a long time will allow that, but it still surprises me that after all this time, he still does.
“That was the longest night of my life, but my mom pulled through. I was both relieved, pissed off, and broken inside. I begged my dad to send her to rehab, and he finally complied if I promised I would go to Durham College. He didn’t want me at CTU with Jordan because he felt I would be in his shadow for another four years.”
“That’s why you chose Durham?” I ask, not realizing it really wasn’t his choice.
“Yeah. I had already planned to go against his wishes and pick CTU. But my mom needed this.”
Revelation after revelation is like cutting the wound back open. Instead of trying to cover it with a Band-Aid as I have for the past few years, the truth is suturing it closed so it can finally heal.
I don’t say anything. I just continue to look at Drew for the missing pieces to the puzzle of us.
“Before I could get to you the day after prom, Jordan showed up at my house ready to murder me. He must have seen what a mess I was because his anger quickly switched to concern. I laid it all out for him: my mom, my dad, the deal I made, and most importantly, my feelings for you.” I audibly gasp at the confirmation that my twin has had all I ever wanted to know. Betrayal flows through my veins.
“Your brother said some things that day that made me realize I wasn’t good for you, not yet. I had too much on my plate, and you didn’t need me bringing you down. Those rumors made him think, with good reason, that I wasn’t going to settle down, and you deserved better. He was right. That is why at school the next week, I started to become the guy everyone thought I was.”
“Drew, none of that is true! My brother doesn’t get to make decisions for me. I can’t believe he said all of that to you. It wasn’t fair then, and it sure isn’t fair now. You didn’t even give me a choice! You just assumed I wasn’t ready, and I deserved more. I decide whatIdeserveand what I can handle.” My sadness mixes with fury and rage at the audacity of my twin and Drew making this huge, life-altering decision.
I remember vividly the Monday after prom, scared to death to walk in school and see Drew. My worst nightmare was realized when I saw him kissing Callie, the head cheerleader and my biggest bully, right in front of my locker. I ran straight to the bathroom and cried until Jordan found me an hour later. He took me home, and I didn’t go to class the next day either. I spent the last few weeks of school hiding behind my brother. Drew showed up at our house twice. The first time, my dad told him to leave. The second, my brother punched him in the face.
Snapping out of the memory, I turn to Drew, and he is waiting on me. I’m sure he expects me to push him away or yell some more. But I know it’s not all on him. I chose to block him and ignore his attempts to have this conversation for years.
“Drew, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know any of that. I’m sorry I didn’t listen then, and that it took me this long to let you talk.” At that moment, I break. My heart was shattered in high school, and I thought I knew the whole story. Turns out, I didn’t know the half of it. I sob as Drew brings me against his chest.
This moment cleans the slate, and I know that my story with Drew Cole isn’t over.
We’re just in part two.
FOURTEEN
RIGGS
What did I just witness? Walking out to the parking lot, I see Reagan in a serious discussion with Drew. Then they’re hugging and both crying. It doesn’t look like the end of something. It looks like a beginning.
I hear my name being called, but it seems far away. I shake the fog and realize that Reagan is in front of me and trying to get my attention. As I look over her face, the red and puffy eyes stand out.
“Are you okay?” It feels serious, so I decide against using the nickname I gave her.
