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“I really don’t care what his name is, Jennifer!”
“Well, you should.” I glared up at her, my bottom lip trembling. “I—I love him.”
“Oh, please, Jennifer. You don’t even know the first thing about love!”
“I know love is putting someone else over yourself—something you obviously wouldn’t know because if you did, Mitchell would still be alive!”
She was quiet for a moment, but it didn’t last long. “Mitchell isn’t here because he pulled a selfish, idiotic move.”
“Oh?” I stood up. “And why is that Mom? Why do you think he did such a ‘selfish’ thing?”
“Because he was young and—”
“No—it’s because you didn’t care enough to face facts and tell the coach to stop molesting your only fucking son!”
Mom’s hand struck my face, swift and strong. It was a loud slap, and I felt the burn, the sting, but I didn’t care. My cheek was blazing, my body vibrating with rage. I continued saying everything she didn’t want to hear.
“Mitchell jumped off of that cliff and killed himself because you were in so much denial and weren’t willing to wake up and put a stop to it!” I stepped forward. “He ran away, and never came back because you did nothing about it! I figured it all out, and if I could put the pieces together, you could too! You let that coach touch him just so he could get the best scholarship—be the star quarterback and make it to the league! Mitchell hated football—he hated Coach Kord, but you forced him to play for that man! Why? Because you have no soul. You only care about yourself and what people think about you, and it has always been that way!”
Footsteps sounded behind her and then Sue popped up. Her eyes were wide. “What is going on here?” she asked.
Neither of us answered her. We stared one another down. Mom’s eyes were struck with horror. It seemed her knees had buckled on her a bit as she stepped away from me.
“I don’t even know who the hell you are anymore,” she croaked, and then she turned around. She bumped into Sue’s shoulder and Sue held her hands up as if she was willing to catch Mom’s wrath for me.
When Mom’s footsteps made way down the stairs and a door slammed, Sue looked at me, and she shook her head. “Jenny,” she lightly scolded.
“What?” I snapped.
Her eyes were damp now. It was like she could feel my pain—like she knew all about it and wouldn’t wish such a thing on her worst enemy.
“You are far better than that.”
“Better than what, Sue? I’m no better than they are! I live here. I use their money and drive the expensive car they bought for me. I’m going to Yale, for Christ’s sake! I’m not better than they are. If anything, I’ll end up just like them!”
She was quiet for a moment, and I felt so stupid because she was so calm. Too calm and too patient. I didn’t want anyone to be patient with me right now. I just wanted them to yell at me, scream—do whatever it took to distract me from the heartache.
It worked with Mom—to lash out. To tell her all about herself. She was loathsome and she knew it, and it felt great to get it off my chest, but yet again, Sue was right.
Sue said, “You know you are better than stooping that low. You are just hurting, but the pain will pass. You’ll see.”
She walked away, but not before giving me one last glance. I shut my door after her and then I curled up on my bed, knees drawn to my chest.
The tears were hot all night long. I honestly don’t even remember when they stopped. Whenever I’d fallen asleep, I suppose.
The thing is, Sue was wrong about the pain. Even when Dad helped me settle into my apartment at Yale—even when I realized I could start fresh and be something great—I couldn’t forget what Drake had done to me.
He stood me up.
But before that, he left without a proper goodbye, only a stupid note and the gift I gave him when we were ten.
I left that cross in a shoebox in the closet of my old bedroom. I never wanted to see it again. I knew what that cross represented now.
It represented absence and sorrow. It represented broken bonds and shattered souls.
It represented emptiness, worthless promises, and desolation.
Sue was wrong.
The pain will never go away.
Because even now, it remains.
There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about him. It became easier to accept, but it still left a cramp in my heart that I couldn’t ignore.
Whenever he crossed my mind, I grieved. I couldn’t seem to move forward at all.
Every day I went through the motions.
Class. Drake. Eat. Class. Drake. Class. Drake. Homework. Eat. Drake. Sleep. Drake. Drake, Drake, Drake!
