Page 79 of Lost in You

As I walk back to my seat, Dylan winks at me. I sit down and flip open the top and see my name scrolled across parchment paper. It tells me that I’ve achieved the standards set forth by the state and that I’m a graduate.

If you asked me in September if I was going to graduate, the answer would’ve been no. I had every intention of following Hadley around. I don’t know if she would’ve asked me to or not, but I had hoped. And if she hadn’t, there was a bus ticket with my name on it, destination unknown, just as long as it was away from here.

Dylan asked me last night if I’m going to see my dad before we leave. I told her, honestly, that I didn’t know. He’s made no effort to try and be a dad and she reminded me that I haven’t tried to be a son. She’s right, of course.

When I look out to the crowd and see the other parents standing for their children, the parents videotaping and the ones holding bouquets of flowers, I can’t help but wonder why mine are the way they are. Why would parents have children if they don't want to dote on them and be proud of them?

We all stand as the principal announces us as the graduating class. As practiced, we pull off our caps and throw them in the air, each of us ducking as they come falling back to the ground with their pointy ends first.

Dylan waits for me as I descend the stairs. I grab her hand and pull her into the aisle, holding on to her tightly. We may not be together, but there isn’t another person I’d want to start my next journey with.

Chapter 42

Hadley

Ilove the winter. I think this is why I refuse to leave New York. There is nothing better than walking down the streets of Manhattan and seeing the storefronts decorated or the fresh smell of roasted peanuts and cashews on every corner. The sounds of children having fun at Rockefeller Center or the joyous screams when someone has just been proposed to coming from the ice rink are what make this place special.

My black leather boots pound the sidewalk. I’m late. This is nothing unusual and is likely expected, but I’m trying. Ever since I started with my therapist I’ve taken a more laid back approach to things. If I want to sing, I’ll sing. If I want to write, I write. I work for me and no one else. That is probably the most important lesson Dr. Patrick has taught me – I’m important tome. I had forgotten that over the years. Everyone wanted something from me, except for my parents and Alex. Even Coleman wanted something. I was just too blind to see what it was.

I pull open the heavy wooden door to O’Malley’s. I haven’t been here in about a year, but this is where Coleman wants to celebrate his birthday. Alex and I live not too far from here, within walking distance, so this is our hangout. Family-owned and versed on keeping the privacy of their clients, it quickly became a place for me to relax.

Strong arms encase me before I even have a chance to take off my scarf. The smell of Old Spice, barley and hops tell me it’s Mr. O’Malley. He picks me up off the ground and spins me around. His laughter is contagious and soon I’m laughing with him and hugging him back. I’ve missed him. When he sets me down, he kisses me on each cheek. His face is lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“It’s been far too long, Hadley.” His words go right to my heart. He’s right. I have no excuse for staying away except for work.

“I know and I’m sorry, but I promise you, I’ll be around more often. How have you been?” I unbutton my coat and hang it up on the wooden pegs along the wall. I feel safe leaving my stuff there. Mr. O’Malley isn’t going to let anyone walk off with someone’s personal belongings. He’s like a shark that way.

“I’m well and the missus is doing well now that the grandbabies are a wee bit bigger.”

“That’s good,” I say as I rub my hands together to create some warmth. I don’t realize how cold I am until he hands me a cup of coffee. I wrap my hands around the mug, basking in the warmth.

I look at the door as it opens and smile. Alex and Cole are here and she looks happy. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her happy. Mr. O’Malley walks over and gives her the same greeting. He pats Cole on the shoulder and nods. He’s never forgiven Cole for cheating and I have to say, it’s taken me years to do it, but I have.

With the cup of coffee clutched in my hand we walk to a back booth and sit down. In the last year they’ve expanded and added a pool table and dartboard. They’ve also added some flat-screen TVs, no doubt to watch sports.

We know the menu well and decide quickly what we’re having for dinner. Each of us orders a pint, appetizers and our main course. This is Cole’s birthday and this is how he wants to spend it. I was surprised when he asked if we could come here. I thought for sure it would be a night of club-hopping with gyrating music. I have to admit, this is nice and almost perfect.

Before long the bar becomes too busy. The door is constantly opening and closing and Mr. O’Malley is greeting each customer as if he’s known them for years. That’s the thing about this place, once you’re in, you’re in for life. I guess it’s like the mafia, but not as violent.

Alex talks about going dancing later, earning eye rolls from Cole and me. We’ll relent, we always do, but the thought of getting dressed up and going back out into the cold doesn’t really sit well with me at the moment.

Mr. O’Malley brings out a traditional Irish cream cake and starts singing to Cole. He turns red and tries to hide his face, but Alex doesn’t allow it. I pull out my phone and videotape his embarrassment, something I’ll save for later when he’s pissing me off. Secretly, we all know Cole loves the attention he’s getting and when he blows out his candle he’s smiling like he just won a Grammy.

With Cole’s cake boxed up and Alex’s pleads to go dancing, we reluctantly leave our table. I’m hoping to call it a night when we get back to our place. At least that is my goal. I’m just not in the dancing mood tonight. I follow behind Alex, with Cole leading the way. Alex pulls up short, causing me to ram right into her, breaking open the box holding the rest of Cole’s cake.

“What the hell, Alex?”

She turns and looks at me. She’s whiter than I’ve ever seen her dark complexion get. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s playing a corpse in some horror thriller.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

She clenches my arms tightly and my mouth drops open in pain, but don’t want to say anything to cause alarm. Whatever has her spooked is doing quite a number on her.

“We should walk out the back.”

“Um, no,” I say. “My coat is up front where I always put it. What’s your problem?”

She looks over her shoulder, shaking her head before looking back at me. Her eyes are sad and for the life of me I can’t understand why. She steps aside, taking the broken cake box from my hands. I look in the general direction and see nothing out of the ordinary.

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