Cabin Nine [[Revised Edition] Under FURTHER Revision]

Twenty-Six

Mom and Dad let me go with him when he moves into the Yale dorms. I know they wanted to be the ones to help, but I can't say goodbye like that. Since it's a twenty-hour drive, they pay for us to stay in a hotel overnight.

Our last night together is absolutely perfect. Our last night. God, that sounds so final. I hate it. I hate this. I want everything to stay the same.

We're startled awake by someone knocking on the door and coming in without waiting for a reply. They say something but I'm not awake enough to hear anything clearly. A woman comes in with a cart and leaves it in the middle of the room. She barely glances at me and Jack, which I'm grateful for. I don't think anyone wants to see two naked idiots in bed together at seven in the morning. Especially since in this situation, it's a delirious-looking gangly kid and a tastefully muscled guy with a red nest of hair on his head. I love Jack's morning hair. It's awful. He puts so much work into keeping it looking nice, it's no wonder it revolts at night. It's its only freedom from massive amounts of hair product.

"Whassat?" I ask. My morning speech is slurred and my eyes still haven't focused. I want to go back to sleep. The pillow has molded to my face and is beckoning for me to come back to it.

Jack seems to be much more awake. "Well, it's either room service or someone's trying to poison us."

He pulls a pair of shorts on and pokes around in the food. It smells really good. Jack brings me a plate of bacon and eats all of the pancakes himself. It's really quiet for a while. When we're done eating, Jack rests his head against the headboard and sighs. The silence says everything, but he's always preferred to put things into words.

"Are you mad at me for leaving?" he asks.

"I'm happy for you."

Jack moves away from me. He sits on the opposite corner of the bed, staring at me like I've just kicked his puppy.

"You keep saying that. Every single time I ask you about Yale, you say that. Tyler, I know something's wrong. I know you better than I know myself. Please, just tell me what you're thinking." He sounds so frustrated. He's clearly been dwelling on this for a while. I hate that I bring out this side of him, especially on an opportunity this great.

"Fine. You really want to know?" I snap. It all comes pouring out. Eleven years of jealousy, frustration, of dependency, no matter how hard I try to stop it. "No, I'm not mad at you. I hate you. I hate you for leaving me. I haven't done anything without you for eleven years. Now everyone just expects me to be fine without you? I don't know how to function if you're not there. I never had time to learn and now I hate myself for not trying harder."

Jack stares at me for a second, taking it all in. "I don't-"

"I'm not done," I cut him off. "And it's not fair to you that I can't handle being alone. I hate that I hate you for this. I hate that I've become such a horrible person over something so amazing. I mean, you got into your dream school and I'm over here pouting like a child. God, I just hate this whole thing. Mostly because I'm an awful person for wanting you to stay."

Jack is quiet for a long time. I know I crossed the line but he doesn't look like he hates me yet. If anything, he looks like he's trying to understand. I hope he can. I mean, he obviously won't understand my wanting him to stay. I've never had big dreams like that, so he's never had to worry about me leaving him. I'm dependent on him for everything. I've always known that I need him more than he needs me. I hate myself for leeching off of him like this. For sucking the happiness out of his biggest dream.

"I don't know what to tell you," he says slowly. "I can't imagine my life without you. I don't know why you're freaking out like this, though. It's not like we'll never see each other. I-"

"Only holidays, Jack. There's no time to drive back on the weekend and you can't afford to fly so often. That's not enough for me and it certainly can't be enough for you."

"We can talk on the phone every day," he suggests helplessly. My heart sinks. He's conceding. If he thinks I have a point, all hope is lost. Jack never gives up. "Or Skype. This can't be the end of us."

"Jack, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," he says determinedly. I could use some of that. "You're stronger than you think. And you can call me anytime. I might not answer if I'm in class, but I swear to God, I'd rather die than give up on us."

I don't know how to reply. I think Jack understands that, so he doesn't make me say anything. He just crawls over and hugs me.

It helps. I don't know why. I've been so bitter for so long, I didn't expect for him to be able to comfort me. I didn't expect to feel better. I never do.