Going Long (6 page)

The phone went silent after
that, and Reed and I sat there listening to one another breathe—for
minutes. Actual minutes.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,”
he finally said. I could sense the fear in his voice.

I waited a little longer before
finally answering. “I guess, I’m thinking I’m really glad you didn’t sleep with
someone,” I said, laughing nervously, but also masking the gut-twisting hurt I
was experiencing from this new turn in things.

“Oh my god, Nolan, I’m so happy
to hear you say that. I mean… I’m not happy you thought for that second that I
did
that.
I love you so fucking much. I would never do that to you. Not
in a million years,” Reed sounded so full of hope. I couldn’t dash it. Not
again.

“We’ll figure it out. The draft,
huh?” I said, letting the new facts of my life align with the other ones.

“Yeah, the draft,” he sounded
happy for the first time since before I came face-to-face with Dylan Nichols.
“And I want you to be involved. In everything.”

I just nodded to myself,
resolving myself to tell him the other surprising news that was going to hammer
away at his life. “Okay,” I said, gathering up the courage to start when Reed
cut me off.

“Hey, my other line’s buzzing.
It’s Jason. That’s really weird for him to call this late. I’ve gotta get this.
We’ll talk tomorrow, though, okay? I love you. So much.”

He was gone before I was able to
get out, “Me, too.”

Nolan

I used to love Fridays. I spent
most of my time in lab working on my projects, tutoring students and finishing
up homework. The rest of the day and weekend was reserved for Reed and
me—not a care in the world, like we were both locked in our own little
time capsule. But I was dreading this Friday. 

My appointment at the health
center was just a few days away, and I had finally come to terms with the fact
that Reed needed to know what was happening. My moods had been unmanageable,
and I feared that holding in the secret was starting to chip away at my
insides. Sleep was sporadic, and my grades were starting to suffer from my lack
of concentration. Thankfully, I was able to draft a bit off Gavin in our psych
class, though I was careful not to get too close with him after our last study
session.

It was Reed’s bye week, so he
was spending some extra time in Coolidge. He had several practices, but there
were at least two almost full days where we would be able to get away. Reed
wanted to camp again so he wouldn’t be too far from school or home. Buck had
broken a leg while attempting to water ski in Mexico. Jason was staying at the
house, running things while Buck was out of commission, but Reed’s brother
wasn’t the most caring man in the world, and he made it very clear that he
wouldn’t be playing nurse while his dad was laid up with his leg.

Reed called Thursday night after
practice, during his drive to his dad’s, and spent most of our conversation
venting.

“I just don’t get how Jason and
I are related. I mean, how hard is it to drive dad to a few appointments, make
him dinner? Hell, all he has to do is heat the shit up, Rose does the actual
cooking,” Reed said, his stereo blasting in the background and the wind
whipping in the phone from the open windows of his Jeep. “Sorry, I know I’ve
been complaining for like 10 minutes, but I just don’t get my douche bag
brother. Everyone loves him, and it disgusts me.”

I mostly listened. I had only
met Jason once or twice in passing introductions. He’d spent most of his time
in New Mexico. I was actually a little nervous about spending more time with
him over the weekend, fearful that if Reed found him so deplorable, I would
find him downright threatening. I got the distinct impression that when the
gene pool divided between the two Johnson brothers, Jason was mostly Millie,
and Reed was a lot more Buck.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been yapping
this whole time. You haven’t even had a chance to tell me about your day,” Reed
asked. My day was honestly uneventful, and the only thing on my mind was how I
was going to open up to him about this pregnancy, my emotions still not ready
to face the questions that came barreling at me once that little fact was out
in the open. And this conversation certainly wasn’t going to happen over the
phone.

Suck it up, Nolan. Keep
pretending.
“It’s okay, you’re allowed to be irritated, and I’m glad you
can talk to me about your frustrations. My day was pretty boring, so you’re not
missing much.”

“Noles, every day I’m not with
you, I’m missing a lot,
”
he was sincere, and when he said things like
that, it made my heart race. I believed him. I just hoped he’d still feel the
same and say those same words after we talked this weekend.

Reed talked a little more about
Jason and his dad’s leg. He said his father would be in the cast until the
holidays, but that he should start to be able to get around after that. Rose
was coming to stay at the house to help out, too, and Reed was hopeful that Jason
wouldn’t stay the entire time. I didn’t want to tell him, but I was pretty sure
Jason loved being in charge, and I wouldn’t put it past him to break his
father’s other leg just to hold onto the job a little longer.

I let Reed go as the sun was
setting, promising to call him before I left to come home in the morning. Most
of my dorm residents were out partying at the nearby apartment
complex—where the campus rules didn’t apply. Thursdays were more like
Fridays around here, with most of the classes wrapping on Thursday afternoons.

I took advantage of the peace
and solitude and hauled my bag of laundry down the hall so I’d have clean
clothes for the weekend. I kicked back in the laundry room for about three
hours while I put two loads through wash and dry cycles. I was able to finish
my poetry reading and even made my notes for our class discussion on Monday. I
was determined to pull my Bs back up to As—even if my grades didn’t
matter after this semester. “Push those thoughts back down, Nolan,” I told myself.

It was close to 11 p.m. by the
time I finally got everything folded and packed and was settled in my bed for
the night. I checked my phone one last time and found a short text from Reed.

See you tomorrow, Princess.

That was it, but it was enough.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep quickly for the first time in days.

The clock read 3 a.m. when my
eyes flashed open. I was suddenly and completely alert, but I had no idea why.
My pulse was pounding, and I stilled my breathing, listening for a noise.
Something must have startled me. I watched the small line of light that marked
where my door met the floor, studying it for foot traffic or a shadow, but
there was no one outside. Deciding it must have been a dream, I threw my covers
off and slid sideways from my bed. That’s when I noticed the blood.

My pajama bottoms were soaked,
and I could feel dampness on my sheets. Fully awake with adrenaline, I flipped
on the light next to my bed to understand. I was bleeding, and badly. I raced
to the bathroom and pulled my clothes off, still trying to understand.
How
could I be bleeding?
I checked for more blood, and it was heavy.

No, no, no.
I was so
scared something was wrong. I was now more than two weeks late, so something
had to be wrong with me. I wrapped a towel around my body and went to my desk
to grab my phone. I needed Sarah.

I dialed, not even thinking what
time it was. When she answered, I realized. “Hello? Nolan?” she whispered
groggily. “What the fu…”

“Sarah, please come. Come right
now. I need you, something’s wrong!” I was shaking and crying hysterically.
“Hurry, please.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. I’ll be
right there,” she said, hanging up before I could fill her in any more. I slid
down to the floor, pulled my knees to my chest and just rocked myself back and
forth.

My thoughts raced, “I didn’t
want this, but I didn’t want
this
. This is my fault.” I couldn’t stop
the voice in my head. I tortured myself with fear and guilt until I heard the
ding of the elevator down the hall. I went to the door to unlock it and let
Sarah in.

“Nolan, what’s wro…” she took
one look at me, and suddenly she knew. My lips were quivering now, and I was
shivering uncontrollably. “Nolan, it’s okay. Come here. It’s okay.”

Sarah was talking softly now. In
an instant, I became a scared child, fragile and broken. She pulled me into her
arms and cradled me, stroking my hair back behind my ears and holding my head
to her shoulder. We stayed like that for several minutes, light sobs coming
from me unexpectedly, and each time Sarah just squeezed me tighter and
whispered softly in my ear. “Shhhhh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” she
said, knowing it wouldn’t, but also knowing that those were the only words she
could say right now.

Over the next hour, Sarah helped
get me in the shower while she discarded my clothes and changed my bed sheets.
I lay awake with my head resting in her lap until the sun started to brighten
my curtains. Sarah didn’t sleep either, but instead sat awake with me, just
stroking my hair and whispering whatever I needed to hear in my ear. When my
alarm clicked on at 6 a.m., the time I usually got up to head to the gym, I
reached over and slapped it off.

I rolled my head to look up at
Sarah through my puffy eyes. She was a mirror of me. “I have to go see Reed,” I
was matter-of-fact. “He’s the only one that can make this okay.”

I started to cry again a little,
but sucked back the tears long enough to push myself up from the bed and walk
to my dresser.

“Are you sure that’s a good
idea?” Sarah said, her voice careful and full of caution.

I just looked down into my open
drawer and stared endlessly at my socks and running shorts and sports bras. My
drawer was full of youth. Isn’t this what I wanted? We weren’t ready for this.
But…this way? The guilt was pounding away at my heart, and each time it did, I
fought to not break down in tears again.

“I need to see him. I just do,”
I said to Sarah, turning and shaking my head, biting my lip a little to help
hold myself together.

“I get it,” she said, standing
and bending to pick up my running shoes to hand them to me. “Let me help you
get ready.”

Sarah walked me all the way to
my car and offered several times to drive me. But I didn’t want her there for
any of this. I didn’t know how long it would take to be brave enough to tell
Reed everything. There was a chance I would stay parked in the middle of the
desert for hours before heading the rest of the way to his house.

I drove extra slow. In fact, I
was a little surprised when a cop parked on the side of the main highway just
let me pass without an inquisition; I was sure I was going at least 15 miles
under the speed limit. I powered through my doubts and pushed myself to drive
all the way to Reed’s house without stopping. I noticed the additional giant,
lifted four-wheel-drive pick up parked right in front of the main entrance. The
license plate read
J-DAWG
, confirming my suspicion that Jason was still
staying at the house.

Somehow, I managed to park and
get to my feet. I walked up to the front door three times, turning away with
each approach to head back to my car. My fourth attempt was successful and I
rang the bell. I didn’t hear anyone stirring for the first several seconds, so
I pressed my face to the obscured glass insert in the door. Finally, I saw some
movement coming towards me. When it cracked open, I was met with the last face
I expected to see. Dylan was standing there in a gray T-shirt, Reed’s T-shirt,
and nothing else. Her hair was messy, and her face was smeared with
last-night’s makeup.

“Can I help you?” she said with
a bit of a southern accent.

“I…uh…I need to talk to Reed?” I
was questioning myself, like I had no right to be there. I was so thrown by her
presence and her lack of familiarity with me—even though we’d met just a
few days ago. “I’m Nolan?”

I felt stupid and out of place,
instantly. It was the first time I’d felt that way in months.

“Oh, right. Nolan,” she said
with a faint smile. I couldn’t tell if it was smugness or politeness, but
something told me it was the former. I was trying to look inside the house over
her shoulder when she leaned sideways to move her eyes in front of mine. “He’s
still sleeping.”

She just stopped short there,
waiting for me to either continue to act the part of the asshole or get what
was going on.

“We had a late night,” she
offered more, biting her lip a little like she was both proud and ashamed at
once. And that was enough. She was here because of Reed, wearing his shirt. And
I was pretty sure that smile was arrogance and not friendly in the least. “Want
me to tell him you stopped by?” she said, feigning manners now.

My heart was pounding with
anger, and I was forming fists at my sides, digging my nails into my palms to
try to stave off slapping her. “No need. Thank you very much,” I said, turning
and marching back to my car, like a kid who was angry he didn’t get picked on a
dodge ball team.

I heard the front door close
behind me as I opened my car door. I quickly got in and drove all the way back
to campus. I was completely numb, not able to feel, and I couldn’t recall
whether or not I stopped at a single stoplight or what exit I took from the
freeway. But somehow, somehow I’d made it to my parking lot at school. I leapt
up the stairs to my dorm room and threw my running clothes on. I was so angry,
and my rage was directed at everyone. I picked up my phone and typed out a text
to Reed.

So much for never.

I paced my room, debating
writing more, but ultimately decided to leave it short and sweet. My emotions
weren’t right, and I couldn’t tell if I wanted to cry or scream obscenities and
punch something. If I didn’t do something to center myself, I was going to get
into trouble. I grabbed my gym bag and threw my phone, wallet, towel and iPod
inside.

 It wasn’t quite 10 a.m. on
a Friday morning; campus was blissfully quiet, and the gym was empty. As I
walked with purpose down the long trail that led to the recreation center, my
stomach rolled with stress and rage more than a few times. “Push it down,
Nolan. Push it down.”
My mantra was the only thing holding me together,
not ready to fully download all that I’d lost over the last 24 hours.

I climbed onto the treadmill and
wrapped my iPod armband tightly around my bicep, pushing my favorite playlist
and pounding my feet into the machine. I’d gone through all of the songs once,
letting me know I must have been running for at least 45 minutes, before I
slowed down to a brisk walk. As soon as my steps slowed, though, my mind went
back into action, my eyes flashing back to Dylan in that damned familiar shirt.
Then I started to think about last night, and before reality set in, I pushed
the up arrows on the treadmill and roared it back to a steady running pace.