Page 25 of Deck of Scarlets

“Oh, I’m sorry—”

“No! It’s okay!” she interjected. “It makes sense since we’re roommates to talk about personal stuff, eventually.”

Yeah, except not this early in the semester, or day, for that matter, but she was here and ready to be vulnerable with her personal life with me. Minus the little secret society part.

Heather took a deep breath, the sound somewhat shaky, and unleashed her first demon. “Junior year of high school, I dated my first boyfriend, Dan. I was sickly in love with him, to the point I would blow off friends and family to be with him. One night after a basement party with his football buddies, Dan wanted to drive home after a few drinks. I told him no and to let me drive. He wouldn’t have it, and neither did his friends, who were just as smashed. Instead of giving me the keys, his friends carried me to the car, laughing, until one of them hit my head on the door, shoving me into the back seat. I screamed in pain and fear, begging Dan to make them stop and to pull over, when he turned around and told me to shut up and how I always told him what to do and he was sick of it. I had never felt so low in my life. Eventually, the car did stop, only it hit a guardrail, flipping over a few times before landing us in a ditch. I woke up in the hospital, thankful to be alive. Dan and the others didn’t make it. And since my accident, I often wake to my screams from nightmares of what happened.” Heather finished her story with a heavy sigh.

I, on the other hand, was speechless. We sat in silence for I don’t know how long. The air felt tight with emotion. I wasn’t used to vulnerable people, so I felt honored that she would trust me with that personal detail of her life.

When I didn’t respond, Heather continued. “People blamed me for the accident. Some said I should’ve died instead. The football season was ruined, but nobody cared how I felt.”

The lump in my throat grew, making it difficult to speak. “I’m sorry,” I managed to say. Was that even the right thing to say? Her heavy secret made the room thick with sorrow, choking the air from my lungs. How could someone carry the burden of something out of their control? The idea left me feeling as if I were drowning under constant waves, never fully reaching above water for air. I could only imagine how Heather felt under the constant scrutiny back home.

I looked over at her through the darkness, barely making out her body. “And now?”

“I survive with the medication and video therapy,” Heather said.

“Do you take the medication every day?”

“Yes. Every morning when I wake up, I take this little orange pill.”

“Ah.”

What could I contribute to this conversation now that she had laid herself bare?

I thought of my grams and how she would want me to be honest, but to share what I kept for so long in the dark was not a step I wanted to take.

Instead, I chose a less calamitous secret. “I’m only here because of my grams.”

“Did she encourage you?” queried Heather.

“To apply? Yes. Her will stated that if I was accepted that my schooling would be paid for in full and I must attend.” A memory flittered through my mind of us sitting outside on the balcony, my grams tossing a stack of college applications on the wrought iron table. My hand ached after a few hours, because she wanted me to hand write each one out, stating computers were unreliable and faulty. She was alive to see me receive every acceptance letter but Columbia. It came in the mail three days after her death.

A reminder of her once being alive.

Little did I know, her will was set in stone. A full deposit was already made before I even received the letter. Conniving woman.

“She truly believed in you,” commented Heather.

“No, she truly despised my mother’s wishes and planned this little charade behind her back. I never wanted to go to college, but the satisfaction of watching my mother listening to my grams’ will never gets old.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yeah, Grams knew what she was doing.”

“Clearly. Maybe in a month I can ask you how you feel about being here.”

“Sure, but I don’t think my answer will change.”

Heather chuckled. “A lot can change in a month.”

She had too much hope for me to change my mind.

“So, are we still cool for breakfast in the morning?” Heather asked again.

“Just let me try to catch some extra sleep. And keep that alarm off!”

She laughed and tossed back the box of tissues, which hit the wall and fell on the floor with a soft thud. “You got it!”

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