Two
Casey came to his room the next night like he knew she would. He had actually been expecting her presence earlier but as she burst in with crazy hair and modest clothing his interest in the situation spiked.
"Spacey, hello. What a horrible surprise!"
His enthusiasm was fake but his words were real because it was a surprise to see her here—like that. It had been the first time he'd called her anything resembling a nickname in a long time because the girl he had been living with for the past few months was an imposter who didn't deserve it. But, track pants, a t-shirt and ponytailed hair were just so Casey, and he couldn't help it.
"Aren't you going to invite me?"
He never expected her to ask outright, she was more passive aggressive than that. She'd skirt around this issue trying to coax him into asking until he infuriated her enough that she blurted it out involuntarily. Their fights were as scripted as MTV and Casey hadn't been all that great with improv—until recently.
"Invite you?"
He was goading her with a little creative license of his own. If she asked, he could just chalk it up to getting his cues wrong after the massive rewrite their script had undergone when Casey renegotiated her contract and relegated him to 'same difference,' a reoccurring guest star. She wouldn't be able to argue otherwise.
"On your trip. It would be a good educational experience…what?"
Her question meant his face wasn't the impassive stare he had been going for—but he had never really been a good actor, just a great liar like dear old dad. Yeah, he was still a bit bitter about that night.
Casey was looking at him with an odd mix of apprehension and inquiry. He'd never really seen that combination swirl through her eyes before but it made them the most amazing colour of blue. He wished he could take a picture of it, but the colour would fade the minute he reached for his camera.
"You can't come," he said instead.
She instantly took on her patented indignant pose—arms grasping her slender hip, eyes dark and narrowed that popped against the red tint of her face—and Derek felt like he was in the twilight zone. Hadn't she been in his room just yesterday grasping at straws for comebacks in her barely there clothing? That Casey was clearly not this Casey—and now she was making him sound insane.
"Why not? I know you have room. Amanda told me you're renting a van and her, Ralph and Sam are going. I don't understand why you have—"
"I planned the trip and my plans don't involve you."
He was trying to marginally forget that Ralph's girlfriend, Amanda was leeching onto his good time. Couples anxiety after saying those three words was always so cute—not. But she was at least tolerable and it wasn't like she was interested in spending time with him. So car rides would be touch and go but he had an iPod and all the necessary cords to blast music from the van's speakers—he could deal. But Casey, she was a whole other problem ten dollars at 'Best Buy' couldn't solve.
"But we're going to university—"
"The same university and I'll be seeing enough of you there," he interrupted, already getting bored.
Did he forget to mention that his father, who looked for anyway to weasel out of paying for anything, predictably surprised him and Casey with an apartment—together, in Kingston? He had to admit, it was kind of admirable that his father finally stood up for something for the first time in his entire slacker parent existence. Derek was all for it, really—just his father couldn't have picked a worse thing to put his foot down for. Yeah, that phrase came up a lot during his surging power trip.
"I know but that isn't what I mean, I…"
She looked flustered and Derek was reminded of all the rare times she asked for his help with something. The reluctance shined so brightly in her eyes it was almost blinding because Casey hated to admit she was inept at anything or better yet that she flat out needed him. And because she was being all Casey-like and he was months out of practice, he adlibbed again.
"Give me one good reason why you need to go and I'll think about it."
"I already said—"
"Not want, need to go," he challenged and smiled at the moment Casey heard the other shoe drop.
Her mouth snapped shut and he waited patiently for something resembling an answer to tumble out of her mouth. He knew she couldn't come up with something besides the truth and she'd never tell him why she seemed to think she needed this trip so badly. It was admitting weakness and opening herself up to the vulnerability of rejection, something Casey McDonald never did no matter what personality she settled on today. So he smugly waited, deciding to use this latest lull to make sure all his film equipment was packed.
"I just…" she tried and he could feel the agony the game of tug-a-war was doing to her insides.
Not surprisingly, it didn't bother him in the slightest. He stayed silent until everything was packed and when he turned to tell her that time had expired—tears?
They were slowly sliding down her face and he followed them silently with his eyes. From blue eyes, to porcelain cheeks, the curve of her neck and—
"You're crying."
It was a statement of wonder because he was not expecting this. Casey jumped and started to furiously wipe her eyes, which only seemed to make matters worse. She was stumbling out of his room like a drunk sailor, tripping over her own feet and swaying in her attempt to stay upright. He didn't understand and she was already gone.
He hadn't heard the sounds of a body tumbling down the stairs so that was a positive to her miraculous drunk-sans-alcohol display. He didn't like alcohol much; sure he drank it but just to keep up appearances. After a while nobody around him noticed he'd been nursing the same bottle of beer all night because they were inebriated by a number in double digits.
He remembered one story quite early on in his life—he was five, maybe six. His mother had come home swaying dangerously and bumping into things as she fumbled for a light downstairs. Derek had crept to the stairs and peered between the bars shielded by the shadows of the upstairs hallway. His father was out and his older cousin Charlie was sleeping soundly in the guest bedroom, but Derek couldn't sleep after all the ice cream his cousin let him and Edwin eat. His mother finally managed to flick on the switch to the lamp before she tripped over the couch and landed beside the coffee table. Derek was about to go see if she was okay, when he heard her start to cry. He thought she was hurt but then she got up and sat on the couch with her head in her hands. She was still crying and Derek had sat there until she cried herself to sleep.
That was a month before the fight that ended his parent's relationship and as Derek grew older with the story still fresh in his mind the pieces came together effortlessly. Since then the smell of alcohol always made him queasy and he briefly wondered if even way back then he could smell the vodka that made his mother sway.
Hockey was on, so he decided to go downstairs and watch that. His father had finally splurged for the premium channels when Nora complained about wanting to watch movies. 'Leafs TV' was replaying the playoffs and even if his favourite team hadn't made it there for many years, the intensity of playoff hockey was enough for any fan. There was at least one Canadian team in this round and Vancouver had a real shot to win—not really.
He watched the game, not that into it with the score already way in favour of the opposition. It was late and his family was asleep. His father had given him the safety—call every hour so we know you're alive—speech a couple hours before Casey stumbled her way into his room. He went on and on about a road trip being a right of passage for being a man before giving Derek his graduation gift early—apparently the apartment had really only been given with his father's best interests in mind like Derek had suspected.
But the laptop was nice. He knew his father didn't understand a thing about his dream and it was nice of him to make it seem like he wasn't holding out for an NHL star like Derek knew he was. Casey had received a laptop too and he found it utterly hilarious that he was a Mac and she was a PC—unfortunately nobody but Edwin found it funny too.
The game was in intermission and Derek switched the TV off. He found himself wandering into the kitchen to find some food. Leftover chili had been great—again—but was it really too much to ask for a little variety? When a little Casey voice started to berate him for his insensitivity he rolled his eyes and grabbed a box of cookies. Oreos were his favourite and he had shoved so much cookie pieces and crème into his mouth by the time he reached the top of the stairs, that it was disgusting.
He stopped mid-step outside Casey's door in the midst of the deafening sound of his chewing. The light was on so she wasn't asleep or passed out from her delightful drunk when sober state. Swallowing, he flung the door open and spotted her dramatically posed for misery on her bed—he can't be blamed for rolling his eyes.
"We leave at eight tomorrow. Be packed or stay home."
And he continued on his merry way towards his room, absently filling his mouth with more cookies and leaving a trail of crumbs behind him.
Maybe a glass of milk would find its way upstairs by following them—if he was lucky.
