When I was at college, I drove everywhere. Owning a car as a student then was less common and I was ridiculously popular as a result. I was always the DD.
Driving for me was second nature, so I had thought nothing of the two hour commute to date George and although I normally deferred to George for family "road trips" (sorry, that phrase has become a big of a George-ism!), even the five hours to Kingston was only just beginning to rile me at its conclusion.
In the whole of the first three years that Derek and Casey were at college, I think I visited once. That trip had involved a screaming four month old baby, seven hours in the car (RTA and a closed road) and an argument from hell with my husband. But Casey had been really homesick and I had a feeling Derek had something to do with it – so we went.
But Robbie was growing up, he was now nearly two and a half, and it was acceptable for me to be away from him for a while. And over the past four months, I had been away from him for three days every month.
It all started when Derek got back from England.
"It's no good, George. You need to do something about Derek."
We were washing up. It begged the question – there were three older children in the house. Why were we washing up?
"Since when is it me that needs to do something about Derek?"
"Since he's your son." I retorted.
"For the first time in his life, I don't have a problem with his behaviour, you do." George said, pulling his marigolds higher up his wrists with a smack. It reminded me of a very sick comedy I had once seen.
"George. He's not himself."
My husband looked at me in astonishment. "And we're supposed to lament that?"
"That's unfair, Georgie. He's not that bad." I wondered how I got to be the good cop in this three-way familial relationship.
"Nora. He's calmed down. Let's be grateful for small mercies."
"He's calmed down to the point where I think he's addicted to valium. This is not normal Derek behaviour. I think something happened while he was in England. Maybe he got dumped or something."
George laughed. "I have to admit. He is being a bit Casey-esque at the moment."
"Remind me again why I married you."
"What…now? In the middle of the kitchen?"
"No George. The other reason."
We grinned at each other.
"He's bothering you?" George asked me seriously.
I nodded. "I'm worried."
"I'll mind the kids for a long weekend if you fancy a trip to Kingston."
I laughed and kissed him soundly on the lips.
"That, my darlin'" I stated in a rich Irish brogue. "that is why I married you."
George looked disappointed. "Oh…I thought it was for my…"
I smirked. "Believe me, hun, that didn't go unnoticed either."
The following weekend, I drove to Kingston to see Derek. We warned him; wrapped it in some cloak of deception along the lines of measuring up for drapes for Casey. I even drove my work van and took the tools of my trade along with me.
Derek was a smart cookie, and I expected him to call me out on it. But, regardless, when I pulled up alongside the kerb I was glad I had come.
"Hi Nora." A tired looking Derek greeted me on the sidewalk, before I had even rung the bell. He had clearly been waiting for me, and I was surprised at how different he looked: subdued and remote. In some ways he reminded me of the quiet guy that used to worship Casey…Noel I think it was.
"Hi Derek."
"Come to check up on me?" He asked with a small smile. I smiled back as I shut the van door and started to walk up the path towards him. When I was close enough to see the dark rings around his eyes and the grey of his face, I threw an arm around his shoulders. He gripped me tightly and I think we both knew he was in pain.
"Wanna talk about it?" I asked.
"No. But as you're here, you might as well make yourself useful."
"Oh?"
"How are your glossing skills?"
And then my "self-absorbed" step-son shocked the hell out of me again.
On that day, four months ago, Derek had taken me into the apartment and shown me the wallpaper he had already stripped from the walls. He had explained to me that he had sanded down the woodwork, and now needed to prep and paint it. He had asked for help to completely decorate his step-sister's home.
The Derek I had known since he was fifteen had gone, and in his place was a mature version. Still singing to his own tune, but clearly with hidden depths. It had only been three years since he "left" home. Apparently, they had been very formative ones.
When I took the proffered paint brush and set to work, he asked me not to tell Casey. He asked me to credit the transformation to me and George, and I agreed. I did joke that Casey would never believe that George had had a hand in the DIY. Derek had done an impressive job so far.
I didn't ask why Casey wasn't to know. Partly, because that's just the sort of relationship they have…had. Also, I knew if I just waited, he would tell me.
Here I was four months later, still none the wiser. Derek's reasons must be deep indeed, for both the decorating and the secrecy. But I had been taught the power of a woman's intuition by my grandmother. I hadn't given up yet.
My van rolled up outside Casey's apartment and as usual, Derek was looking for me and opened the door eagerly.
"Did you get it?" he asked as I exited the van.
I grinned. "Do you seriously doubt me?" We had developed quite the teasing relationship over the last four months. It was gentle and warm, and exactly the sort of relationship I hoped I would have with Robbie one day. My "real" son.
Don't get me wrong. I loved Derek in a maternal way. But, he was too old to be mothered when I first met him. With Derek there had been no tears in the middle of the night that only a mom can fix. There had been with Edwin. But Derek and I had never had the mother-son relationship. Even now, we were sort of friends; something which had developed over these decorating session.
He smirked. "No. Step-mom. Especially, since I know you probably got Ed to do it for you!" He was referring to my "doubting" comment.
"Damn! Busted!" I exclaimed.
Derek laughed and I nodded to the bags in the back of my van. Derek crossed to the back and pulled them free. We walked, joking with each other into the apartment as usual.
"It" was some fabric that I/Edwin had bid for on an auction web site for Casey. It was fabric my daughter and I had spotted together before she went to London. It had been out of our price range then.
"So what are you going to make with it?" Derek asked, having settled me with a cup of tea while I admired his latest paint efforts.
"I thought the curtains for her room and some throw cushions. What do you think?"
"Sounds good to me, but hey, what do I know?"
"A hell of a lot. I'm impressed Derek, these last few months you've totally turned things around." I sipped thoughtfully at my tea. "Why won't you take the credit for this?"
He sat down heavily on the arm of a sofa.
"If you told Casey that I'd done this, she would put the apartment back on the market faster than you can say 'makeover'."
"She's not that bad." I protested.
"She is when it comes to me."
"Okay. I admit it. Her judgement is a little screwed when it comes to you, but Derek there have been times when she has appreciated your efforts."
He chuckled. "Nothing that she'd admit to in court."
"Why did you do this?" I asked him directly for the first time.
"She's my…sister. Aren't I supposed to do ridiculously stupid things for her? Familial love and all that." He looked shifty.
"Not buying it Derek."
He didn't elaborate. He just picked thoughtfully at a bowl of chips on the side.
"Nora, you should know that I've applied for a transfer."
"A what?" I didn't understand.
"I've applied to transfer to college in Vancouver." Derek said it quietly. "I'm going to get an apartment and probably stay there over the summer."
"Vancouver? Why Vancouver?" Oh god! George was not going to like this! There must be a girl involved. My eyes narrowed. "Does this have something to do with Sally?"
My step-son looked horrified. "What? No! Sally's getting married. I haven't thought about her like that in nearly three years."
"So why Vancouver?" I let my voice go soft again.
Derek stood up again and walked around the sofa, his fingers running through his hair nervously. I waited, not wanting to disturb him. Eventually, he settled down.
"I know about the Edwin incident." He said simply.
"Edwin incident?" I frowned.
There had been a few Edwin incidents lately. Then it hit me. Oh. That incident.
Derek went on. "I can't be anywhere near Casey. If I am, the rumours will start up again. She doesn't deserve that."
Casey? This was about Casey?
"Derek. They'll blow over. Rumours always do."
He shook his head, sadly. The world-weariness that I had seen on my first visit four months ago and that I had got used to every month since intensified at the mention of my eldest daughter.
My intuition hit me with a vengeance.
"Derek. Did something happen in London?"
I watched as he closed his eyes against my question.
"No."
I took a deep breath.
"Did you want something to happen?"
"Nora. I get it. Okay? I know I have a reputation for dating a lot. But, Casey is my sister. It's a line I cannot cross." He sighed. "She should not have to put up with rumours of incest and pregnancy."
I snorted. "Incest! Technically…"
He rounded on me. "Technically nothing. It would be incest. The rumours are derogatory and damaging. They need to stop."
"Does Casey know you're leaving?"
"No. And I don't want her to. I'm going to Vancouver next weekend for a visit to check the place out. I'd rather you didn't tell her."
Next weekend was when Casey was due home for the first time in a year. The timing could not be coincidental. Derek was going to avoid Casey.
That wouldn't work. What was he going to do? Avoid Casey for the rest of his life?
Derek picked up the fabric I had brought with me and moved towards Casey's bedroom.
"Come on. Let's get on with the curtains."
Sleep took a long time to come that night. The conversation I had had with Derek played through my mind.
Derek had changed over the years that I had known him. I had thought it was a gradual change, but his maturity today shocked me to the core. He had clearly thought long and hard about the rumours.
Should I be shocked that there were rumours? No. Even my own sister had delighted in telling me at every opportunity about a friend of hers whose son had got her own husband's daughter pregnant aged seventeen and the whole farce had descended into a soap opera that resulted in a divorce and custody battles. When she told me, she always switched topics immediately afterwards to asking how Casey was doing at college. Sometimes, I totally got the confrontational relationship my daughter had with her cousin – and the "icky Vicky" nickname. My own alliterative nickname for my sister Fiona is not repeatable in polite company.
Anyway, there were times, when they lived under the same roof, that I held my breath watching Derek and Casey fight. There were times where I seriously wondered which of two ways it would resolve itself. Would there be the cry of "Der-ek!" and then slamming doors.
Or would they give into the tension and fall into each other.
Part of me wondered if that was what had happened in London.
The one thing I was sure of. Brothers do not change colleges to protect their sisters from gossip.