Filed to story: My Life with the Walter Boys Book (I & II) PDF Free
Cole was right; I had been afraid. In fact, I’d been so afraid of what I might lose that I forgot the very first thing he taught me when I moved to Colorado—that it was okay to live a little. And because of that fear, I’d thrown everything I had with him away.
But maybe I could get it back.
By now, it was nearly one fifteen in the morning, but I knew Cole had picked up an extra shift at the Gas Exchange instead of going to the party; I’d seen the Buick parked in the lot when we drove through town on the way to Chase’s. When Cole worked second shift, he typically got home between one and two, so if he was home, maybe he was still up?
I jumped to my feet and stepped back into the hall. There were no more whispers coming from Katherine and George’s room, but when I reached the art studio, I was relieved to see the door partly open and a light on.
As soon as I stepped inside, I immediately knew something was wrong. Cole was a bit of a slob, but the space was tidier than normal—bed made, no clothes on the floor. The real sign that something was amiss were the packing boxes. Only three, but they were all filled to the brim with Cole’s belongings. The light I’d seen from the hall was coming from the lamp on the computer desk, and when I walked over to turn it off, I noticed the letter. It was addressed to me.
Jackie,
I have a confession to make, but I’m not much of a wordsmith so bear with me.
For as long as I can remember, my mom has always told me that the sky’s the limit. I could be whoever I wanted to be, do whatever I set my mind to, and all that was required of me was to put in the work. Sometime around my sixth birthday, I decided that my dream was to be a professional football player (lofty and cliché, I know). I started doing drills with my dad in the backyard to improve my abilities, and not to brag, but I was a natural. I went from being the MVP of my flag football league to making varsity freshman year.
Back then, being a wide receiver meant everything to me. It gave me purpose, and there was no better feeling than burning a DB and catching a deep ball over the top for a touchdown. And the pressure I felt when it was the last play of the game and I knew I had to make something happen to win? Pure bliss. Maybe you’re right about me being a masochist, because I didn’t mind taking a hard hit every now and then. Getting the wind knocked out of me was a good reminder that I was alive.
But my mom was wrong. Limits exist, and not all dreams come true.
When I was forced to quit because of my injury, it was like a piece of my very identity had been carved away. Without football, I felt empty and broken. I went through the motions day after day, and the only thing that made life feel less monotonous was working on the Buick.
Then something happened that changed everything. You came along. Suddenly, that hollow feeling inside my chest started to fill up whenever we spent time together. Don’t ask me why, because I’m still confused by how much you affect me. Maybe it’s because you never knew me as Cole Walter, the best receiver in the state. Or maybe like recognized like? You were so broken when you first came here, not in the same way I was, but we’d both lost a major part of who we were. Whatever the reason, I quickly realized you were the antidote to everything wrong with me.
I think that’s a contributing factor to why that empty feeling crept back in while you were away this summer. All my friends were leaving for college, and I knew I couldn’t afford to go. And even if it were possible, I didn’t know what to study. Football had always been my plan. So where did that leave me? No scholarship, no school to look forward to, and no concept of what I should do with my life. I was being left behind to work my ass off at multiple dead-end jobs.
That’s why you felt like the only good thing in my life.
Before you get angry, I’m not saying all this to guilt-trip you or wrangle an apology. The truth is I’m the one who owes you an apology. I’m so sorry, Jackie. You were right (you usually are). Instead of figuring out my shit, I turned to you as my main source of happiness. I was so focused on me and us that I didn’t listen when you told me what you needed. It was selfish of me, especially since I knew you were trying your hardest to heal.
If I’m being honest, I think that scared me a bit. Because if you put yourself back together, would that leave me alone in my brokenness? It’s not that I don’t want you to reconcile with your grief, because I do. I wish you all the happiness in the world. You deserve it more than anyone I know. What it comes down to is that (as previously mentioned) I’m selfish.
But I can’t be selfish with you anymore. It’s not fair, and if you can overcome the worst sort of tragedy, then I can damn well move on from something as trivial as football. To do that, though, I need to get out of this house. If I don’t, I’m afraid of backsliding into depending on you. Will and Haley offered me the apartment above their garage, and I’ve decided to accept. It’s drafty and cramped, but at least it’s a place of my own. Even after you moved in with Parker, the art studio always felt like yours, so it’s only right that the space is returned to you.
Please don’t worry about me. I’m going to focus on fixing myself and figuring out my future, whatever that looks like. Maybe when I do, the timing will finally be perfect.
All my love,
Cole
***
“Today, we need to decide on this year’s holiday fundraiser,” Erin said after taking roll call. She flipped through her notes until she found whatever she was looking for. “Last week, we brainstormed a few good ideas: we could run a toy drive, host a hot cider stand, sell candy cane grams, or plan a winter carnival. I’m partial to the candy canes. It’s cheap and easy to set up, and they sell well.”
I tuned her out as the student council meeting continued.
Three days had passed since Cole moved in to Will and Haley’s, and I’d spent every waking moment agonizing over the best way to apologize. I knew I’d be miserable until I found a way to resolve the situation, even if the outcome meant we didn’t end up together. Reading his letter made me realize that neither of us were without blame. We’d both made stupid, selfish decisions driven by fear, and I felt particularly awful for throwing his insecurities in his face. Especially since I was just as responsible if not more so than he was. Had it been intentional? No, but that didn’t make my comment about how he had nothing going on in his life any less cruel.
That wasn’t how I saw him at all.
Cole oozed confidence like he had extra to spare, so it never occurred to me that he might feel lost. What I needed to do was show him that he was so much more than the sport he played in high school, and in my mind, having a conversation wouldn’t cut it. Not after he’d put pen to paper and poured his heart out to me.
An idea finally popped into my head yesterday at lunch when Chase joined our table to eat with Skylar. He’d given his boyfriend a reminder; if he wanted his latest blog post (“How to Build a Capsule Wardrobe: A Guide for Beginners”) to be in next week’s edition of the school paper, then the final copy had to be in Chase’s inbox by the end of the day. That was when I remembered what Skylar told me during the first week of school.
Sometimes when the news cycle is slow, he publishes an article from my blog to fill the space.
If Chase needed content, I was more than willing to provide him with some, and by the end of seventh period, I had a working outline. After that, the rough draft of the article basically wrote itself. Now all I needed to do was convince Chase to publish it.
“By a show of hands, who’s in favor of the candy cane grams?” Erin asked in a tone that implied she expected people to vote her way.
I raised mine in agreement, not really caring what fundraiser we went with. All I wanted was for her to wrap things up so I could talk to Chase, but whenever I glanced at the clock, time seemed to be moving backward. I didn’t even notice I was fidgeting until Skylar frowned at me and plucked the pen from my hand, which I’d been clicking incessantly.
“Chase, do you have a minute?” I asked the instant Erin released everyone. “There’s something I’d like to discuss.”
“
Ooh.” Skylar bounced his eyebrows a few times as the three of us stood and collected our backpacks. “Sounds like someone is in trouble.”
“Sure,” Chase said to me, paying zero attention to Skylar’s ribbing. “What’s up?”
“I have a proposition for you.” As I spoke, we filed down the row at the back of the auditorium. It had become Skylar’s and my spot after sitting there during the start of semester meeting. “It’s about the school paper.”
Chase glanced over his shoulder at me with a raised a brow. “Planning to oust me from my position so you can run it like you did Erin’s campaign?” he asked. “People are already talking about how you’re most likely to be elected president next year.”
Were they really? I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered running.
“No,” I replied as my cheeks warmed, though it wouldn’t be a bad idea to shadow him. Chase was graduating in the spring, and if I learned the ropes directly from him, maybe I could take over as editor when I was a senior. It wouldn’t hurt to add another extracurricular to my college résumé. “Skylar mentioned that sometimes you need extra material?”
When he reached the main aisle, Chase let us step past him before perching on the armrest of the end seat and crossing his arms. I’d envisioned us finding an empty bench in the lobby, but I suppose we were having the rest of our conversation here.
“That’s true,” he said, an almost smile playing on his lips.
Well, here goes nothing
… “I have an idea,” I told him. “I think you should start running a monthly alumni column. It would feature notable former students, giving a window into their lives postgraduation. The article can highlight their accomplishments both from when they attended Valley View and after. Not only would it be beneficial for current students to—“
“Okay, I get it,” Chase said, raising a hand before I could finish my pitch. He rubbed his chin, considering. “Do you have a suggestion for who our first feature should be?”