Dres is there at graduation and he's there all the days afterwards, too. It's a good summer, better than anything I could have asked for. The kind of summer I never thought I could have. Our weekends are full of adventures — impromptu hikes, beach days, drives up and down the coast to explore new cities. We're spontaneous and alive and together. It's literally all I could ask for. If I ever felt deprived of time with Dres during the school year, this made up for it.

     Halston left early for school so when I'm not with Dres, I'm with Grace. She got into ASU but won't be leaving till mid-August. It's weird that my two best friends will be across the country without me, but I've been trying not to think about it. I'll be here and I'll have Dres and with the way Grace Facetimes, it'll honestly be like I'm there, too. 

     I'm more worried about Halston. This last year she's been alarmingly distant. All the issues between her and Grace has only made it worse. I'm hoping that she won't use the distance as a way to cut ties with us completely.

     I'm pretty much all set to start at the local college in the fall. Even though it's close, so close it doesn't disrupt my life at all, I'm still dorming, just to get that experience.

     Everything is right until it isn't. Until Dres starts acting weird.

     Weird for Dres, that is, which probably isn't all that weird. Nobody else would pick up on it. Except me, because I'm good for reading into things and I've got a keen eye for Dres. I try to convince myself that if he's acting weird, it's probably just because I'm starting college soon and he thinks things are going to change.

     He said to me one night that he thought college was exactly what I needed. That was I going to meet like-minded people and have experiences I'd remember forever.

     I've had plenty of experiences I'll remember forever. I've had a whole year of my life I'll remember forever.

     Dres then decides that I won't continue working once the term starts. I try to fight him on it but he insists he wants me to focus on school, and adjusting, and not trying to put in hours at Weston's. Not working at Weston's is too much change for me. Feels like I'm giving up some part of my relationship with Dres even though working is very a small part of it. Ultimately, we come to the agreement we'll see how demanding my first semester is and then go from there.

     I take him to the campus one day, under the guise to show him it, but mostly so he'll see that I'm like a thirty minute drive from Weston's. If there's hardly any physical distance between us then there's no reason for him to actually get distant.

     Dres and I have plans one Saturday morning to go dorm shopping. I'm letting him have a say even though he has expressed zero interest and will certainly not be sleeping on a twin-sized bed with me with a roommate five feet away. He says that now but he's a cuddler and winter's are lonely.

     "You're early," Dres calls when I let myself in. The pups who aren't really pups anymore are at their bowls gobbling down breakfast. Dres's place is kept frigid, but its welcome since it's already hit eighty degrees outside.

     "Working on my punctuality for classes this fall," I respond as I stalk into the living room and fall back on the couch. "Take your time, though. I'm in no rush."

     I reach over towards the coffee table, searching for the remote. It's under a litter of papers, the messiest I've honestly seen Dres's coffee table ever. At the top of the stack of papers is a big envelope post-marked to look super official. More official than the admittance letter I received from USC.

     I pick it up, confused, and peruse the first few paragraphs. My mouth is dry and my visions blurring on the words enough that I have to blink to see properly. I stand, holding the papers away from me like their poisonous. They feel that way.

     "What is this?"

     Dres looks up from the kitchen sink where he's washing dishes. He grabs a hand towel and walks over to me slowly. As he gets closer, realization passes along his face. He licks his lips, saying quietly, "You weren't supposed to..."

     I raise both my eyebrows, personally offended that that's the first response he's going to give me. And that it's not it's not what you think. I want it so badly to not be what I think.

     "To what? Know? Find out like this? Find out at all?" I throw the papers down on the island. The Department of Defense Seal in the corner of the letter glares up at me. The word "re-enlistment" plays over in my head like the worst line of the worst chorus of the worst song ever.

     I swallow hard, forcing saliva down my throat. And possibly vomit. I may be about to throw up. "Tell me this isn't what I'm thinking. You're joining the reserve, right? Light duty? A glorified desk job?"

     He shakes his head. "I'm re-enlisting for active duty."

     The last of my sanity breaks then and I cry out at him. "Why? Why! Why would you do this? When did you even — you didn't even ask me what I? What the hell, Dres."

     "A few weeks ago..."

     "Weeks? You've been sitting on this for weeks? No. No, you don't get to do this. You can't just join the army, again. And then, and then what? You just, like, leave? No."

     He swallows and says, voice deep and trembling, "You don't have a say, Calvin."

     My words fly out of my mouth in my most frantic voice. "Are you freaking kidding me? I don't have a say? You're unbelievable. Like hell I don't have a say. I didn't sign up for this."

     I'm pissed, more livid than I've ever been at Dres. I can't even look at him right now.

     He nods, calmly. "You're right. You didn't."

     I blanch. "Well what the hells that supposed to mean?"

     Dres shakes his head miserably. "This isn't how I wanted you to find out."

     "No, I imagine it's not. I imagine you didn't want me to find out at all since you've been keeping it a secret for weeks. I can't believe you. All this time. I knew —I knew something was up and I thought I was just being paranoid."

     "Please stop freaking out," Dres says after a moment.

     I glare at him. "Don't tell me how to react. You've been lying to me all this time. And you think I'm just going to be okay with it? Pack you a care package and send you on your way back into the armed forces?"

     "I don't expect you to do anything Cas," he responds.

     "You're literally talking like I'm the crazy one for being rightfully upset. I don't understand, Dres. Please help me understand why you want to go back. Because it's not making sense to me. War took so much from you, why would you sign up for that again? And, and yYou have a life here. You have... people and a business and. I thought you were happy, Dres.  So why go back? Why give this all up? I don't get it. I don't — why? Why give it all up? I just. I thought you — I thought you liked your life here." With me.

     "I can't stay here any longer," he says. "I'm sorry, Cas, I'm sorry but I can't do it."

     "What do you mean you can't stay here any longer?"

     "You wouldn't understand."

     "Then help me," I scream. My voice splits in my throat, makes hot tears jolt in my eyes. I ignore them, saying, "Because, no, Dres, right now, I don't understand."

     "I thought I was done but I'm not."

     "Done with what? What do you need to do in the military that you can't do right here?"

     "Grieve!"

     I can hear my breathing loud in my ears, the ragged whoosh of the air coming in and out. I'm breathing, I know that I am, but it doesn't feel like it. It feels like all of the oxygen has been stripped from my lungs.

     "Fuck you, Dres."

     I walk out.

     I don't hear from or see Dress for the next three days. After much sulking and bitching to anyone who will listen, mom convinces me to go and talk to Dres like an adult. To see it from his perspective and be more open-minded. Forgiving. Tolerant. All her favorite words.

     I'm not as angry as I was, more hurt than anything. Hurt that he was hiding this from me (both the re-enlistment and his feelings towards Private Weston.) I reconciled with myself a while ago that I would never try to compete with or be jealous of that relationship. I knew that Dres loved him and had lost him, unexpectedly. That Weston was not someone I could or would ever try to replace.

     Still, knowing these things didn't stop pangs of jealousy from bursting in my chest. Decidedly, three days of not talking to Dres was three days too long.

     When I get to Dres's house, he's outside loading bags into his truck. Delta and Charlie are outside with him, playing in the grass. I hit the curb as I drive up. Don't even bother straightening out before I throw it in park and get out. I don't even know how it is that I'm moving because it feels like I'm having a stroke.

     Dres stops what he's doing, turning to watch me as I make my way over. His expression is empty. There isn't even a trace of remorse. Does he care, I wonder foolishly. That he is going to break me.

     "You're leaving," I say blankly.

     He sets down a duffle bag. "Yes," he answers.

     That's it for me. Any logical, rational version of myself I was prepared to be has disappeared, has disintegrated on the spot. And we are so far past me being angry and lashing out against him. I don't know how we got through that so quickly, how we got here so quickly. Now all I can do is beg.

     "Don't do this," I say desperately because I need him to hear that. "Don't just go. Don't — don't leave us like this."

     Dres's face pinches, like he's holding back. And that's a reversion. Not letting me see how he feels. Hiding himself from me. "I can't stay, Cas. I can't stay here."

     "So just, take a few more days. Let's just figure this out. We can make it work. But we need more time."

     Dres shakes his head and goes to respond but the words catch. "I don't." He takes a heavy breath. "I don't think we can."

     "Don't say that," I snap. "Don't just give up on us. Fight, Dres. Prove that I matter even a little bit. Fight for us. We can make. this. work."

      Even as I'm saying it, I know that we can't. Because Dres was just going to leave without even saying goodbye, sneak off into this whole other world without me. He never had any intention of maintaining an us. I'm fighting for something that isn't even a possibility anymore.

     Still, I reach out, grabbing his hand. "Please," I beg. "Please don't do this."

     "Cas," he whines.

     I shake my head, frowning. My cheeks and my chin tremble. "No. I'm not letting you just give us up like this."

     "Cas," he says again. "You're going to be okay."

     The first of my tears fall and I ignore them, letting them drip down my face into my mouth. "Don't," I say weakly, squeezing my eyes shut.

     He reaches over, brushing my cheeks with his thumbs. "You'll be okay."

     "I won't," I say and my chest is caving in, this sound clamoring up my throat, racking through my lungs. It's a loud, suffering thing that takes me and Dres by surprise. My knees give and he catches me, pulling me up against his chest.

     He's holding my face between his hands and it's like a memory, so familiar. The way my jaw goes slack for  him. The way I fold for him. Would do anything for him. And Dres, he's gone. The distance is in his eyes, his voice, as he tells me to breathe. I'm a child again, trying to understand why the person who means the world to me doesn't feel the same way, trying to understand why I'm constantly being left by them.

     I reach up, hanging my hands on Dres's wrists. He's still cupping my face, coaching me through my breaths. "Please," I try to say in between my hyperventilations. "Please don't go. Please don't leave me."

     Dres drops his forehead against mine, his eyes are half-lidded so I can't see how clear they are today. How they look like steel, cold and impenetrable. "I'm sorry, Cas," he says. "I'm so sorry."

     "It's okay," I respond quickly. "It's okay, I forgive you. We can go back. We can forget about this."

     Dres drops his chin, kissing me feverishly, rushed, pushing air back into my lungs as he does. This doesn't feel like a kiss. This feels like life preservation. This feels like a rescue breath. This feels like goodbye.

     Dres pulls away slowly. His eyes are open and staring into mine when he says, "I need you to know, Cas, how much I love you."

     The last of whatever was us shatters on that one.

     "You need me to know?" I scream. "What about what I need Dres? What about me? Fuck your love. I don't want it." I push him away from me. It feels good to get my hands on him, to put my physical pain into a physical place. I shove him as hard as I can and he lands against the side of his truck.

     "I can't believe you. Saying that." I shake my head and I'm crying again. "Like it changes anything. Fixes this. You know what, just go if that's what you want. Go. I don't care."

     Dres stares at me, looking so unknowable. If I hurt his feelings, I wouldn't know it. If I hurt his feelings, I wouldn't care. He takes a step towards me but stops, staring at the space between us. He turns then, unexpectedly, and grabs the door handle, opening the passenger side. He whistles and ushers Charlie and Delta into the cab.

     He turns back to me, shifting his shoulders so he's standing straight. His expression is smooth, completely at ease. "Cas, I'm—."

     "Just fucking go," I snap turning away from him.

     When I look back, Dres is in his car. He glances at me out the open window. I'm halted, almost keel over again by the shocking pain of it. He's really leaving. And I'm crying again, unable to even see straight. I press at my eyes, trying to clear them as I cry out, "Wait, Dres, wait, you're not — you're not really going to go, right? Dres, we're not. This isn't the end of us. Dres, just hold on, hold on. Just give me a second to—."

     I try to keep him from leaving but there's nothing to hold onto to stop the car from backing out of the driveway. I end up standing there watching him jerk the car out of reverse and speed off down the road. He doesn't even glance back at me, just leaves me there in the gravel.

     It's my mom who finds me sometime later. I don't know how long I've been there, lying in his driveway. Long enough that the front of my shirt is drenched and clinging to my chest and my forehead feels hot and scaly.

     "Calvin," my mom screams when she's out of the car and running towards me. I don't move. I don't take a breath. Just remain where I am, my eyes closed because then it still feels like a dream. A nightmare, really. But better a nightmare than my actual reality.

     Dres is gone. He left me.

     I feel like I've been set on fire. Like someone injected lighter fluid into my veins and dropped a match down my throat. I wish someone had set me on fire.

     Mom kneels down beside me, places a hand on my cheek. "Come on sweetheart," she says softly. "It's time to go."

     "He left," I say and a shiver bursts through me. I clench at the ground, feel the grit get under my nails.

     "I know," mom says. "Come on. You can't stay here."

     "Please go away," I say and I sound delirious. I am. I'm not me anymore. Dres took pieces of me with him and without them, I'm just. Not me. I don't want to be, either. If I'm not me then I'm not the person he loved enough to leave.

     She sighs heavily and then sits down beside me. "If you're not leaving then neither am I."

     I lay there and don't say anything. I hope to god she's not serious.

     Then she says, "Cas, sweetie, I know this is—."

     I make a frustrated noise, forcing myself to my knees and then my feet. "Fine. I'm leaving. Fine."

     "Let me take you home," she says as she stands.

     "No, I drove here. And I'm just. I need to be alone right now, okay?"

     "You can be alone in your room. I'll give you your space. But I don't want you driving around right now," she says and her tone is final. I groan again and turn away from her, making my way to her car.

      We're on the road for a few minutes when I ask her, "What, did he call you?"

     She hesitates and then says, "Yes."

      I make a sound, disgruntled. Hurt. It breaks off into a sob and I drop my head into the neckline of my shirt. "I thought he was happy with me," I say quietly. My mom reaches over and rests her hand on my shoulder. She drives the rest of the way home like that.

    After two days in bed, with the curtains drawn and the saddest songs I know playing on repeat, I finally decide to get up. Because it's not over. And Dres didn't actually leave. I refuse to believe it's over.

     I shower because I haven't done so in three days. Then I get dressed and head downstairs. Mom's home, sitting in the living room reading. She startles when she sees me, starts to say something but then doesn't. "Uhm," she says finally.

     "I'm going out," I say and then walk out before she can respond. I drive to Weston's.

     When I get there, I don't know what I'm expecting. Dres to be at the counter, I think. Filling the displays. Dolores manning the register rather begrudgingly. She'd say when I entered, "Cas, finally! Take over this counter. My knees are aching."

     Dolores and Charles left for vacation just a few days ago, though. They aren't there when I walk up. Nobody is. There's a closed sign in the window, a for rent sign next to it. The whole place is locked up. I don't have a key to Weston's, don't have a key to Dres's place, either. We never got to the key-sharing part. I would've given him a dorm key, I suppose. A permanent visitor pass, if I could.

     I would've given him anything, I realize.

     Being eighteen in a small town where everyone knows you really sucks when you're trying to score some alcohol. I have to enlist Grace's help, which means I have to tell Grace what happened. Something I hadn't planned on doing yet because I really didn't want to talk about it.

     "Fuck Dres," she says when I pick her up. "Honestly, fuck everyone. I'm over people."

     "Who are you mad at?" I ask because its easiest to focus on her problems than my own.

     Grace frowns but doesn't say anything. "Grace, come on. If we don't talk about something other than my thing I'm just — I'm gonna' break down honestly. I need the distraction. Any distraction."

     "Have you heard from Halston?" she asks, rather unexpectedly.

     "Um, yeah, she texted this morning raving about the lab at school. She seems really happy." I try not to grimace. I'm not going to be that person that begrudges other people's happiness just because I'm walking around with the inability to feel anything meaningful anymore. I'll fake it for the rest of my life, I guess. I'll carry this hurt so quietly no one will know that you can, in fact, live without your heart.

     Grace says, "She's not answering my texts."

     "I mean, you guys have been in fighting all year. Is that not just an extension of that?"

      Grace is silent again. "I think that. I think Halston and I are no longer friends, Cas."

     I'm slightly panicked because if Halston and Grace are no longer friends. If that's the case, then. Honestly fuck all of this. Fuck every relationship. Because nothing lasts and what's the point, then.

     "Why?" I ask because there has to be a reason.

     "Because I've been a shitty friend," Grace murmurs. "And you don't need to say that I haven't been because I have and there's things you don't know. Things I can't tell you. But, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not cut out for friendships."

     "You have me," I say after a moment.

     "And you have me, Cas, so whatever you need. Seriously."

     Grace doesn't say anything else until we get to the liquor store. Then she asks, "Vodka? Beer? Tequila? What're we feeling. Mind you, it's barely noon. But I'm not judging."

     "Hard liquor seems like the right choice. You can pick."

     Grace comes back with vodka and a huge bottle of lemonade. I start driving and she doesn't say anything when I end up taking us to the beach. She doesn't say anything when I drink most of the bottle, or tell her how Dres said he loved me after he'd already decided he was going to leave me. Grace and I fall asleep there on the beach, wake to the sun breaking the horizon, an d this disjointed feeling that makes me wonder what day it is and if it all really happened. It did. Dres is gone. I'm alone. I've never felt less like me. 

     I check my phone. It's buried in the sand beside me, and on 6%. It's early, not even five. I've got a dozen missed calls from my mom.

     "Hey," I say giving Grace a nudge. She's using my hoodie as a pillow and her face is hidden under the sleeve. I feel like right shit and may need to vomit. Its undetermined at the moment. Grace groans as a response. "Come on, we gotta' go."

     When I get home, my mom is waiting for me at the door. Her expression is, rightfully, livid. But I'm hurting and hungover and don't particularly  want to hear it.

     "Are you out of your mind?" she screams when I walk in. "You spend the whole night out. Not a single word from you. And," she takes a breath and then visibly shrinks away from me, "and you're drunk? You reek of alcohol, Calvin. Explain. Now."

     I roll my eyes, moving for the stairs.

     "Calvin," she yells at my back but I just keep going till I'm in my room, sinking into my bed, curling up under the blankets where can I stop time and stop existing.

     On the fifth day of Dres left me cause he's a punk ass bitch, I lie in bed and try his phone. It goes straight to voicemail. I am relentless, calling all day.

     On the sixth day of Dres only loves me as far as he can throw me, I go to see if Dolores is back. She's not.

     On the seventh, eighth, and ninth day of Dres can break me into a million pieces and I would still forgive him cause I'm an idiot, I get drunk with Grace. And then Grace leaves for school and I am even more alone.

     On the tenth day of Dres really did just up and leave me like I mean nothing huh, my mom comes into my room early. She makes a disgusted sound and says, "It absolutely reeks in here."

     My voice is flat when I answer, "You're literally so unsupportive. Can you just go."

     She opens the curtains and the room is too bright. I slide my head under my pillow. "You need to get up and start packing," she says.

     "Packing for what? My funeral? I heard you can't take anything with you, so."

     I feel her weight on my bed and slide my head out from beneath the pillow to look. She ignores my funeral comment and says softly, "I pulled rank and made a unilateral decision."

     I raise one eyebrow. "What did you do?"

     "Well, I made a lot of calls. Did some groveling. Got some strings pulled. And well, we're going to USC."

      "Come again?"

      "You and I are going to USC. We're actually going to drive there so we need to be on the road tomorrow if we're going to get there in time for your freshman orientation and to still do some sight seeing on our road trip."

     "No, mom what? We can't just leave."

    Even as I say it, I realize how stupid I sound. Obviously, we can just leave. Dres proved as much.

     And, anyway, as it turns out there is literally no stopping my mom once she's decided on something. In my ten days of sulking she's managed to rent out our house, has broken car leases, and taken a leave from work to do a fellowship elsewhere. "Sorry," she says when she comes to check on my basically inert packing. "Wheels are in motion and you're stuck on board."

     Packing my room in a day proves to be the exact distraction I need. I only end up checking my phone a thousand times hoping and praying Dres will reach out.

     By the next morning, everything that means anything to us is packed in boxes and ready to be shipped out to California. What we need for the road trip, we've shoved into my mom's SUV. My car is being turned in here under the promise of leasing something new once we got out West. I'm content to drive in silence but that doesn't seem to be my mom's MO.

     "I know you're hurting," she says slowly. I make an annoyed sound. She ignores it. "But I'm not going this whole trip in silence. So. You can either talk to me about it or talk to me about anything else. But either way we're talking."

     "I don't want to dorm," I tell her coldly.

     "Uh, well, that actually works out because dorms are all full. They don't normally let freshman into the swim house, either, but I was pushing to get them to make an exception. I'll let them know they don't have to now, I guess..."

     "I don't want to swim," I tell her next.

      She frowns. "Alright, well that's not a possibility since that's how your education's being funded. Next request."

     "I want a cat," I say after some thought. My mom outright laughs at that.

     "You know what," she says. "Yeah, we can get a cat. Why not. Not my floors."

     Mom's mapped out our whole trip, already picked out our airbnb's and left no room for error. We're on a tight schedule to make it to USC in time for my orientation and hers, apparently, too. I don't really feel anything about school. The excitement's gone, the eagerness to get back into swimming has dulled. I can't feel it but I know that I'm happy for my mom, that she gets to do something new, that she's passionate about. I want her to have that. So I decide to be a good sport about the trip she went to so much effort to plan.

     Our first stop is Washington, D.C. We spend the morning at the monuments. We have lunch at Nandos, and while I'm definitely not myself, I can't deny how delicious the food is. And then we spend the late afternoon exploring Georgetown. 

     While we're out, I come across a stationary shop. My mom wants to go into Sephora because she says she packed some serum in a box. So we split up and I go into the stationary shop. I don't know what I plan to do, exactly, but I pick up a bunch of stuff, anyway, feeling like I can't let go, I can't give up, no matter the circumstances.

     Later that night when we've returned to our airbnb and mom's gone to sleep, I step out onto the balcony with my supplies and sit at the little bistro table there so I can write. I write a whole letter, finally putting into words what the last two weeks have felt like for me.

     It's emotional, but cathartic, too. And at the end, after I've told Dres exactly how I feel, I'm at peace. But maybe I'm also crazy. And maybe I'm setting myself up for more heartache. I don't even know how I'll get these letters to Dres. If he'll even read them or write back. But I have to try.

     I know the reality is you don't ever really end up with the first person you love. Which sucks because I'll probably never love anyone as much as I love him.

     Maybe the real truth about moving on is you don't.

Dear Dres,

I'm not giving up on you.

I'm not giving up on us.

I don't care how long or how far apart we are.

I'll wait for you.

Always,

Cas

⤚ book 2: Always Cas ⤙