The Story of Why

Keda - Close

~Keda~

Luckily, my brother got off after we did, so he didn't see...yeah. We only stayed for about 20 minutes after the ferris wheel, then Drew drove us home and we hung out for a bit and my mom came. Drew left, and, well that was it. Except that that wasn't it. He told me he loved me. I don't know if I loved him back. I mean, I liked him. A lot. But I don't know if I'd say I was in love with him. The fact that he sounded so sure of it was so attractive. I feel kind of bad for not saying it back, but whatever. He knows I care about him.

The kiss had been so intense. It made me feel so...powerful. Energized. It just felt good. It was better than any other kiss I've ever experienced. All he had said before, made my heart beat so fast it felt like it would burst through my chest and give him a hug. He made me feel like no other boy could. I've been in love before. I've kissed before. I've made out before. But not like this. Drew made it feel special, because it was. Everything is special when it's with Drew.

All I could do was think about yesterday throughout the school day. In history, I was smiling to myself so my history teacher called my name and I muttered, "Drew?" That was a little embarrassing. Then after that I had to endure the endless teasing and rumours. I was glad when the day was finally over and I could see Drew again. I texted him that I was on my way to his house. He didn't text me back, which was odd, but I walked towards his house anyway. I was a couple houses away when I heard the sirens. Then I saw the lights.

An ambulance rushed out of Drew's driveway and sped away. My heart thumped in my chest. I ran to Drew's front door. It was wide open. I ran inside. "Drew?" I called. "DREW!" my heart pounded harder and harder, faster and faster. I checked every room. They were all empty. I pushed my hair out of my eyes, then I realized I was crying. I called my mom. "Mom. I need you to pick me up from Drew's house and drive me to the hospital. Fast." I didn't even wait for her to reply, I just hung up and started pacing. A minute that seemed to take for ever went by. Then another. Then I heard a car honk. I ran out of the house, into my mom's car, and she drove.

I walked into the hospital and asked a nurse that was walking by for Drew Fenlow. "Fenlow?" she asked. "He's in room 240. Only family can visit now."

"No, you don't understand. Please, I need to see him," I told her, scratching at my wrist anxiously. I started to feel a warm trickle of blood coming out from beneath my fingernails. I was too stressed to care. I need to see him.

"He needs time," was all she said, and she left without another word. I started crying and my mom held me. I know it was stupid. He might've gotten a concussion for all I knew. I just wanted him to be okay. I needed him to be okay. He was the only thing in my life that made sense. He wasn't just another thing I'll regret in a month. He was all I've needed to keep going. To understand. All I could do now was wait and see.

My mom helped me into a chair because my knees were shaking so badly, I couldn't do it myself. We waited and waited. I couldn't take it anymore. I told my mom I was going to take a walk around. I walked down the halls of rooms, and then I saw it. Room 240. I pressed my ear against the door and strained to listen in.

All I could hear was crying. No, wailing. It was endless. It went on and on and on. My heart sunk. I slumped against the door. I was in tears. I wanted to die. Everything about Drew made me think that there was at least some sense in my life. Some reason I had to be alive. It was kind of scary how much I actually relied on Drew. The fact that he might be gone was the only thing that made me realize it.

My thoughts were interrupted when someone opened the door, and I fell back and hit my head on the ground. I winced in pain, then looked up. "Drew?"

He looked awful. He was sweating and crying and there were traces of tears all over his face. His eyes were red and his cheeks puffy. I got up quickly and looked him in the eyes. He looked as if he were scared. Scared that I'm seeing him like this. I threw my arms around his neck in a tight hug. I was crying, too. Out of relief. "Drew, Drew, oh my God, Drew. I'm so glad you're okay. I went to your house and saw the ambulance. Are you okay? What happened? What's going on?" I asked, then realized he was shaking. He reached a hand behind him and closed the door. I let go of the hug.

He swallowed and looked at me, straight in the eyes. "My mom's dead."

I felt like I was sinking. Drew's mom....is dead? "Drew, what can I do?" I asked.

"Nothing. Just go home. I'm fine, okay?" He said angrily, walking away from me. All I could do was stand there. He had sounded so angry with me. Angrier than I had ever heard him. His mom just died, I told myself. He's not actually mad at me. I took a shaky breath and walked back to the waiting room.

A day passed. Then two. The third day, I was getting really worried, when Drew called me after school. "I'm sorry," was all he said.

"For what?" I asked, just relieved to hear his voice.

"Getting all pissed at you. You didn't do anything. I'm sorry," he said.

"It's fine, Drew," I said because it really was. I knew how it was. My dad had died 2 years ago, and I was a bitch to everyone I talked to for a long time.

"It's not. Can I come over?" He asked.

I smiled. I could've cried, I was so happy. "Of course."

"I'll be right over," he said, waited a moment, then hung up.