Chapter 32
SPENCER
EIGHT YEARS AGO
Standing in the doorway of my dorm room I want to throw up.
T.J. was supposed to be here with me. We’d planned on doing everything we could to ensure we ended up roommates.
“Smile, honey,” my mom brushes past me with a box of my stuff. My father follows behind her with more stuff and I finally set down the things I’d been carrying. “You’re starting college. This is a happy time.”
My mom … I know she means well, but she just doesn’t get it. She tries, but it’s been months since T.J. passed and while I don’t think she expects me to be over it, I think she assumed I’d be in a better place by now.
I paste on a smile. “Like this?”
She frowns. “Maybe not quite like that. You might scare your roommate.” With a sigh, I let the smile fall. My dad claps me on the shoulder before heading back out. “Go help your dad. I’ll get to work putting your bed together.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, and turn to follow my dad, barely making it in time to catch the elevator thanks to my sluggish steps.
“Your mom means well,” he says, lightly bumping my shoulder with his.
Does he think I don’t know that?
“I know.”
He doesn’t say anything else which I appreciate. He’s not one for idle chat.
We grab another load from the car and take it up. It only leaves one more trip necessary since I didn’t pack much. I’m close to home, so if I need something it’s not a big deal to go back and get something.
I’m putting my clothes away in my closet when my roommate arrives.
A part of me wants to hate him simply because he’s not T.J. and he’s taking his place. But that’s not fair so I bury those emotions down and extend my hand in greeting.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m Spencer.”
“Parker,” he replies, and our parents introduce themselves.
I already knew his name from our roommate assignment papers, but beyond that I don’t know much else. I never accepted his follow request on Instagram. Shitty of me, I know, but it’s not like I’ve posted on there in months.
When everything on my side of the room is set up and Parker is nearly done with his—he has even less than I do, but he did bring his gaming system—my parents offer to take everyone out to eat. Parker and his parents attempt to decline, but mine aren’t taking no for an answer.
I’m annoyed, but I try to hide it. I just want to be alone, and I want to call Harlow. If I hear her voice, I’ll feel better.
I barely speak through dinner and Parker notices, but he doesn’t try to get me to engage which automatically scores him some points.
After we’re dropped back at the dorm, we’re silent on the way up to our room. He finally speaks when the door shuts behind us.
“Would you want to play COD?”
I want to say no, I really do, but something tells me not to. I’m going to be living with this guy for the next year. It’s for the best that we get along.
“Sure.” I shrug.
We’ve been playing for about an hour when Parker says, “You’re pretty quiet.”
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“That’s okay. I’m not much of a talker myself. But I get the impression there’s more going on with you and I just wanted to say it’s okay if you want to talk about it, and it’s okay if you don’t.”
I look at him in surprise. I feel like most of us guys avoid talking about anything remotely close to feelings at all costs, so it’s shocking that my new roommate is so open about it.
He must read the expression on my face and know exactly what I’m thinking, because he laughs, and says, “Sorry, both of my parents are therapists. I thought you caught that at dinner. Being observant and reading people has sort of rubbed off on me.”
I could tell him that I barely listened during dinner, but I don’t. Instead, I decide to be honest.
“My best friend was supposed to be here with me, but he … died.”
God, I hate that word. The finality in it makes me want to throw up. Dead. Died. They’re both so definitive. But I guess maybe that’s a good thing. No one can second guess what you’re saying.
Parker’s mouth opens and closes before he takes a deep breath. “That’s not what I expected you to say. How did it happen?”
He asks it in a way that doesn’t suggest he’s morbidly curious, more so that he’s giving me a sounding board to talk about the worst parts.
I run my fingers through my hair, hating the slight tremble in the digits. I’m scared it makes me weak being so affected by his death even this many months later.
“Drunk driver,” I answer.
“Fuck,” Parker curses. The way he gives me his full attention is nearly disarming.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “And then … there’s a high probability that my girlfriend’s sister ended up with his kidney.”
“Dude.” His eyes widen. “That’s wild. How are you doing?”
I decide then that I’m going to like my roommate. He might not be T.J., but he’s clearly not a bad guy.
“Some days are good, some days are bad,” I reply honestly. “Still doesn’t feel real a lot of the times,” I admit.
“That’s understandable. What’s his name?”
Parker continues to kick me in the gut. I feel like this his use of the present tense is a conscience decision.
“T.J.”
“T.J.,” he repeats with a kid smile. “Tell me about him so I can know him too.”
So, I do.