CeeCee’s message? I turn and catch a glimpse of brown hair and long legs dipping into the kitchen. CeeCee was up to this. I should’ve known.
I’m sure of it for you, CeeCee had said on our walk. Between visiting Dad, getting him home, squaring things away with the memory care facility, and Imogen’s party, I haven’t had alone time with CeeCee to ask about it, but maybe now I have my answer. I think back on those emails Drew sent CeeCee during our crystal hunt. I may never know what they said verbatim, but I can almost read the words written across Drew’s flushed, half-smiling expression that dazzles in the glow of the dim porch light.
“The birthday girl is in bed, but don’t worry, she’ll accept belated gifts.” I take the bag from him and gesture for him to come in, but quietly.
Dad has finally dozed off into dream world where he can be at peace at least for a few hours before his next round of meds. So as not to disrupt him, I tell Drew to follow me up to my room, which is something I wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at before but now—with two quasi-breakups under our belt—feels loaded.
With each creak of the stairs, my heart rate elevates. That fight we had felt so permanent, but he’s here, and I still have no idea why, and all I want to do is hug him for eternity and never let him go.
“It’s like a museum in here,” Drew says, and I realize he’s referring to how nothing’s changed since our sleepover days.
“An exhibit of who I was,” I say somberly, remembering how he told me my present incarnation was completely incompatible with his. Does he still believe that, or is he going to take it back? CeeCee wouldn’t have invited him here to break my heart all over again, right? My defenses fly up anyway.
“So…” I say, unable to bear the extended silence.
“I like your hair,” he says with the tiniest laugh.
“Oh,” I chirp, finally yanking the wig off. “Thanks.”
“Can I sit?” Drew asks, nodding toward the desk chair.
“Sure. Go for it,” I say, crossing the room and sitting on the bed as far away from him as possible, erroneously thinking that any upsetting words can’t hurt me from such a distance.
He sets his bag down on my desk and meets my eyes for the first time since arriving. For the first time in weeks, actually. “I owe you an apology.”
“Okay…”
“I’m sorry I left.”
“I didn’t exactly give you a good reason to stay.” In the nights since, I’ve replayed that morning before falling asleep, and every time I rewatch it, I notice how selfish I sounded.
His head bobbles, maybe in agreement but maybe not. “I owe you an explanation as well.”
“I’m listening,” I say, uncertain what he could be referring to but open to hearing him out.
“Did I ever tell you about my dad?”
“No,” I realize, which is weird considering how long we’veknown each other. I’m also unsure what this has to do with that morning and him leaving.
“I’m sure you know that my mom and dad weren’t reallytogether-together when my mom got pregnant with me, but she gave him the opportunity to be in my life.” He pivots his torso in toward me, shoulders back, chest open. I can sense he rehearsed this. “My dad was in a band that was taking off, so he chose the road over me, and at a young age I swore to myself I’d never fall for someone who’d make me feel that way again: choose their career over a relationship. Choose to leave.”
“Drew, I didn’t realize.” There is a wavering quality to his voice that cuts through me. I see how my actions in both timelines triggered that old wound, those latent feelings. Even if I accidentally stepped on an emotional land mine, I should’ve checked for casualties. The night of CeeCee’s wedding, as soon as our fight started, I knew my actions had shifted something in Drew. If I had been looking harder, maybe I would’ve noticed the same shift the morning after the crystals didn’t work. The drinking. The legal pad. My selfishness blinding me to him.
Iwas the one who was stuck.Iwas the one who asked for help.Iwas the one suddenly changing my tune after turning his current life upside down. I never considered what the fallout meant for him. I resent myself for that.
“I didn’t expect you to,” he says. “And I know this is shitty timing, but I just wanted you to know because…I should’ve told you all this instead of leaving the hotel that night. And I should’ve explained the morning after the crystals didn’t work instead of hiding behind the excuses my tipsy, sleep-addled brain spat out. I was panicking, so I blamed you. It took some time, but I realized I was trying so hard not to end up with someone like my dad that I turned into him instead. I’m the one who chose to leave. Twice.”
“Hey,” I say, taking his closest hand, overcome that he’s finallytrusted me enough to tell me his truth. “It’s okay. I’m not upset with you. And listen, you may have left, but you also did what he couldn’t: come back.”
Drew’s hopeful eyes lift to meet mine. It’s like my words have unencumbered him. At least a bit. “You’d take me back?”
I laugh, happier than I have been in weeks. Dad’s home. Drew’s here. A tingling races up my spine. “You took me back after a version of me told jokes about you all over the country. I know what scared feels like. I’m not going to hold that against you. Drew, I love you too much to do that.”
“I love you too.” Just hearing those words sparks hope in me that there is a future for us after all. He stretches out his long arm, grabs the brown paper bag from earlier, and hands it to me. In response to my questioning eyes, he says, “Open it.”
Inside, I find a picture frame with the photo of Drew and me from the senior prom inside. I hadn’t realized he’d kept it. My eyes begin to water.
“After thinking long and hard about my dad, about how I didn’t want my past to define me, I realized I would be a hypocrite if I judged you by a past you weren’t even fully a part of,” he says, which lifts my spirits but brings on more tears. “I saw the articles about you ditching the special taping for your family, and then I watched your live stream…”
