Two Heartbeats on One Page

Chapter 38

Darcey settled into Jordan's home almost too easily. A couple of days turned into a couple of weeks and then, suddenly, it was almost April. One bookbag of clothes in the corner became a whole drawer in Jordan's dresser, Darcey's shampoo sat next to Jordan's in the shower, his Xanax on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet by Jordan's testosterone and syringes.

Certain things got to Darcey at first that had never bothered him before: Jordan never put his shoes away and he never made the bed if he was the last one up. But they were only minor annoyances, and he got used to them quickly.

He'd been nervous when Jordan had given him a spare key, much less at the idea of living with him, but now it was hard and a little painful to imagine life being any other way. When Jordan finally felt safe on his own and Darcey went back to his parents, things were going to be really, really lonely.

It was 9:00 a.m. on a Friday and Jordan was sleeping. Darcey grabbed the mail key to see if there was anything from yesterday. Some bills, some ads, a postcard Ally made at school addressed to both Darcey and Jordan.

And a letter from the Culinary Institute of America, forwarded from his parents' address. He didn't wait to get back upstairs. He ripped it open right in front of the mailboxes.

His breath caught and his hands tightened on the letter. He'd been accepted. He could start in mid-April or the beginning of June.

Darcey didn't know whether he was ecstatic or devastated. He could go to the school he'd been dreaming of since he was fourteen. But he might have to leave Jordan to do it.

What should he do? Should he accept? Should he ask Jordan to move with him and make a decision based on his answer? Should he throw away the letter and pretend it never happened?

But he had to go. If he stayed, he'd regret it for the rest of his life. If he turned it down, he'd be fine at first, but eventually, he would start to wonder, but what if he had gone?

He pulled out his phone and dialed Brett's number as he went back upstairs for his wallet. Brett answered just before it went to voicemail.

"Hey, Darcey!" he said.

"I need to talk to you." Darcey didn't have a head for pleasantries.

"What's wrong?"

"I was accepted to the CIA. I can start as early as mid-April, if I want."

Brett was silent for a moment. "Oh my god," he finally said. "Darcey, that's..." he paused. "But what about Jordan?"

"Exactly," Darcey said. His voice caught, high and painful in his throat.

"Can you get to my school from his place?"

"Yeah, that wouldn't be a problem."

"All right. Meet me in the Student Union," Brett said. "I have one more class that's just about to start. I'll be done in an hour. We'll talk then and figure it out, okay?"

Darcey nodded, and, when he remembered Brett couldn't see him, he said, "Thanks, Brett."

The Student Union was busy and Brett was only average height, so Darcey couldn't pick him out. But then, he saw the familiar head of curly auburn hair and he breathed a sigh of relief. The first thing Brett did was squeeze Darcey's shoulder. He sat down across the table and said gently, "So what's going on?"

Darcey took a sip of his coffee, hot, black, and it was good, but not as good as what Jordan made. "So, you know I got my GI Bill reinstated."

"And your health insurance," Brett said. "Because of that teenager's mom, right?"