Chapter Thirty-Three: The Return

I wasn’t religious in the slightest, but at this very moment, a story from the Old Testament  came to mind that I could faintly recall reading. It was that one when Jacob and his brother, Esau, were supposed to reunite. The last time Jacob had seen Esau, he was pissed as heck at Jacob for stealing some blessing thing. Fast-forward, like, thirty years, and Jacob didn’t know if Esau was going to still be mad at him for what he did. Right now, this felt a lot like that story.

           All I could do was stare at the blonde boy in Timberland boots and a sweater who used to be my other half. He didn’t look all that different than the last time I had seen him before I left. Still tall, blonde, and blue-eyed. As always, he was skinnier than me, but had muscles. His face was covered in a thin coating of scruff, but it wasn’t from inattentiveness or a lack of caring, but rather the opposite. Of anyone, he was probably the one of the only people on the planet who cared as much as me—if not more—about his appearance. The scruff was a look, and somehow he made it work.

           Cautiously, I stood from the bench, really hoping that this situation ended how the one in that story did (aka, well). Ari joined me, her face painted with a rapt perplexity. He was standing a few feet behind the bench, and began walking towards me. In the Bible, Jacob had his entire nation backing him, and so did Esau. It was a moment of tenseness, because Jacob didn’t know how Esau was going to react. I felt like Jacob right now. And there was my brother—Alex Campbell.

           “Sup, dude?” Alex spoke first, the casual smile that he often wore flitting onto his face like we were still best friends.

           “Hey,” I returned guardedly, not sure if he was being genuine or putting up a guise.

           “Long time no see,” he grinned. “How’s Cali?”

           “Good,” I replied, taking a small step towards him.

           “I’m assuming that the girls are hot,” he smirked, his eyes flicking over to Ari and taking her in, “even if they do wear weird tourist shit.”

           “I thought this was ‘all the rage’ on the East Coast,” Ari mocked, her words almost as careful as mine. As she spoke, she gestured down to her enormously white sweatshirt that I had bought her just a few minutes prior.

           He grinned. “Hi, I’m Alex Campbell.”

           “Ari,” she returned, and then took a moment to look him over thoroughly. “He’s a first name and last name type of guy.” And she was right.

           “Girlfriend?” Alex asked me, scrutinizing Ari just as she did the same to him. I nodded slowly in response. “She’s shorter than you usually go for.”

           “More damaged, too,” Ari added, somehow being able to make fun of her tragic history. I didn’t understand it, and just had to assume that it was a coping mechanism.

           “What’s your major?” inquired the other boy. As Alex asked the average question, it occurred to me that I didn’t know the answer, which was an issue. It was such a trivial thing, and through all of my questions, it was one thing that I had never asked her.

           “Psychology,” was what Ari said, making complete and total sense. I could see her as a psychologist one day. Sitting in an office, helping people. “You?”

           “Undeclared,” Alex determined slowly. “I’m at Yale, by the way.”

           “So, um, not to be rude, but why are you here, Alex?” I interjected, happy about the amicability that was passing between the two strangers. Hopefully, the same sentiment could be applied to our interaction, as well.

           “Your parents are at my house for a Christmas party,” he began to explain, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m the only interesting kid there, so when your mom said that you were back and asked if anyone wanted to go rescue you from JFK, I volunteered.”

           “Why?” The word came off blunter than it had been meant, and colder, too. I didn’t want to start a fight with Alex Campbell. Here he was, supposedly “rescuing” Ari and me from the airport. I was just confused about why exactly he was here. The last time we had spoke, I thought that it actually was the last time.

           He scratched the back of his neck, and showed his first symptom of nervousness in the encounter. “I wanted to apologize,” I opened my mouth, but he just held a hand up and continued speaking, “I’m sorry, Eric. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have ditched you. It was wrong of me, and I was being a shitty friend. I’m really sorry, man.”

           “I’m the one who should be sorry,” I shook my head remorsefully. “I lied to you for years, Alex. You didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t your fault for turning your back on me when you found out about the, uh, stuff.”

           “But it was,” he argued back, fervently shaking his own head. “You were in tough place, and instead of sticking by you like a good friend, I left you when you needed me most. I’m sorry for that.”

           “And I’m sorry for not telling you for all those years,” I gulped, holding back whatever true emotions were about to come through. This was the guy that I had grown up with, and who stuck by me through everything…except when he found out about the drugs. And I couldn’t blame him. If I had been in his situation, I probably would’ve done the same. Alex had always been against pot, so I couldn’t even imagine how hard it was for him to learn that his best friend was not only an avid user, but also an addict.

           “If you two don’t hug right now, then it’s a waste of a beautiful moment,” Ari said, loud enough for us both to hear.

           Alex shrugged his shoulders, and grinned. I let out a sigh, and approach him so that we were closer. In the manliest way that we could, we outstretched our arms towards one another so that we were embracing—in a totally macho way, of course. I patted his back, and he did the same to me. It was a bro hug, but it wasn’t the action that meant something—it was the symbolism behind it.

           “I’m glad you’re back, Eric,” Alex said.

           “I’m glad to be back, Alex,” I said. “Are we cool?”

           “The coolest,” he laughed. The two of us pulled back, and as I looked at him, everything felt different, but strangely the same. We hadn’t drawn up a document to state the terms and conditions of our newfound common grounds, but there was definitely a change in the air. Things weren’t going to go back to how they had been before he found about my addiction, but that didn’t mean that we couldn’t strive to find a new form of normality. Just like in that story, Esau was cool with Jacob, and Jacob couldn’t be happier about it.

           “How’s Alice?” I wondered, assuming that our new relationship entailed talking about causal and normal things. As far as I knew, Alice happened to be the name of Alex’s girlfriend. She was smart, but a total priss, and never one to do anything interesting or daring. I never really liked her, but Alex was obsessed.

           “I wouldn’t know,” he scoffed offhandedly, “we broke up.”

           I froze, mentally reviewing the situation. “I’m sorry, dude.”

           “It’s fine,” he assured me, though something in the way he said it made me think that it was anything but fine. “She’s at Harvard, living her dream, so that’s all that really matters.” He looked down at the shiny tiles of JFK, and then returned with that lively gleam in his eyes that I knew so well. “Let’s get out of here, but when we’re in the car, I expect to hear all about the two of you, okay?”

           I let out a laugh, and then agreed. After having Alex ask where the rest of our luggage was, only to respond with a lame, “We don’t have anymore,” the three of us exited the airport, and hit the cold tundra of New York head on. I was still wearing my short sleeves. Ari had on her big sweatshirt. As we took our first few steps outside, we finally realized how screwed underdressing had made us. It was freezing. We booked it to Alex’s car (which was conveniently located right by the curb), and dove in, probably having contracted some type of hypothermia on our short outdoor adventure.

           Ari was in the back, and I sat in the passenger’s seat, right next to Alex. It was weird to be back in his car. I had spent so many drugless nights in the same car, so the memories weren’t bad ones, but rather difficult. Everything about high school was hard to think about. Alex and I had had so much fun in his car, and it was all sober. Obviously, I didn’t do drugs with Alex. His car and he were always a bit of a release from that life.

           Alex began to drive, skillfully navigating through the city. It was Christmas Eve, so the amount of people in the already overpopulated city was probably augmented even more, causing quite the overage of traffic. But like always, Alex kept his cool, and just went with the flow of things. He never complained, and made light of the situation. The ride from the city to my hometown was about a thirty minute one, but with all the cars, it had doubled. The extra time was used to talk, and it was good.

           We started by catching up about the usual things like school. Alex told me that he had joined a frat, and I told him that I had turned one down. He shared a bit about his tool of a roommate, and I shared a few stories about Seth Newman. We compared our classes, the food, the social life, the weather, and then finally, the girls. Since my girl happened to be sitting in the back seat, I couldn’t say much, but got the point across that I liked her. He told me that he went through some stuff after Alice, and was happy being single for the time being. I didn’t believe him, but didn’t dare to call him on it.

           Then Alex and Ari began to talk. Ari didn’t like everyone, but she liked Alex. Everyone did. The kid had a charisma that even I couldn’t come close to matching, and one of the most sociable personalities ever. His words always came out polished and poised, though with an authenticity about them that was believable. He was kind of like a mixture of Scott and Houston, only unlike Scott, he would never kiss somebody else’s girlfriend. Nevertheless, they reminded me of a morphed him.

           My old best friend and my new girlfriend hit it off well. They mostly ridiculed me, but as long as they were bonding rather than hating each other, I was fine with it. Alex would tell her a story of one of my lesser moments, and she would share an anecdote about our time together that also made me sound like an idiot. They were ganging up on me, but it was all in good nature, so I only stepped in when Alex began to tell a story about a certain football game that I really, really didn’t want to relive. Thankfully, he respected my request, and promised Ari that he would tell her later. He wouldn’t. I would make sure of it.

           After a surprisingly quick hour, we finally came across a green sign that said “Welcome to Westchester!” and my stomach flipped. I couldn’t just go back to California and pretend that this part of my life had never happened. It was real, and I was home. This was the place in which I had grown up, and though I had dreaded my return the day I left, I knew that it wouldn’t be that terrible. I was just scared, really. Scared to face everyone, but more importantly, scared to face myself and look back at the person I was.  

           Though it was dark, as we ventured further into the town, all the haunting memories flooded my mind. I would see the silhouette of a place, and the only thought I would have was, “I used to smoke there,” or something else negative. Coming back was an impulsive decision, and as we waded deeper and deeper into the town with all the secrets, regret consumed me.

           Alex drove into the small neighborhood of sporadic mini-mansions that I knew well. It was where I spent about half my life. My own neighborhood was a few streets away, but it still felt like we were coming home. In the distance I could see a well-lit house that was practically my second home. Like every year during this time, there were Christmas lights hung everywhere—but not the tacky ones in all those different colors. No, this house just had white and red. There were no inflatable Santa Clauses or prancing reindeer. It was just the two hues of Christmas lights, and they covered the house. I wasn’t quite home just yet, but it felt like I was.

           Cars were parked everywhere due to there being a party held within, so Alex had to leave the car a ways away, despite the fact that the house belonged to his family. The three of us got out (I left my backpack in Alex’s car), and then began the long trek on the desolate sidewalk caked with snow to the house. I offered Ari a piggyback ride, figuring that it would be easier for her with all the snow, but she declined, and walked on her own.

           When we finally reached the entrance of the house, Alex opened the door, and then upon entering, said in a very Alex way, “Welcome to Casa de Campbell!”

           I didn’t need to look around to know where we were or what was around the corner. Having been here enough times to know it as well as my own house, nothing could surprise me. There was a bunch of people my parents’ age and older, drinking eggnog and laughing about absolutely nothing. They were all dressed in cocktail attire, so I did feel slightly underdressed, but I wasn’t going to worry about it. There were so many other things to stress about, and adding my clothing to the list wasn’t going to solve any of them.

           “This house is big,” was Ari Remon’s initial reaction. If I had been seeing Alex’s house for the first time, that probably would’ve been my response, too. There wasn’t really any other way to describe it. His house was just big.

           “Do you two want anything to drink?” Alex offered, playing host for a moment.

           We both declined politely.

           Alex began to state a proposition, but mid-sentence, I felt the need to cut him off: “Okay, well, we can either go bond with the other kiddies—”

           “That’s not funny,” I interrupted, causing Alex’s face to break out into the loopy grin he often wore. At the Campbell Christmas Party, there was always a selection of “kids” who had been dragged by their parents because their parents were friends of Alex’s parents. The kids, however, were often, well, losers. Not exactly our typical crowd, so a running joke between us had always been to go chill with them, though it was probably the last thing on the planet that either of us wanted to do.

           “…Or we could go find our parents to let them know of the return of Eric Wilson,” Alex then posed the second and more realistic half of his suggestion.

           “Let’s go find Mama and Papa Campbell…and maybe my parents, too,” I determined without an ounce of hesitation. There wasn’t really even an option. Besides, it was what was right. I needed to see my parents. Though I spoke to my mom often, I still missed her a ton, and I couldn’t even remember the last time that I had talked to my dad. I felt like California had just distanced the two of us even more than we already had been after the drug thing. It wasn’t a healthy relationship.

           Thus, the three of us began to wander about the large house, passing by familiar faces, in search of our parents. Some people who we passed recognized me, some couldn’t care less who we were, and others were absolutely floored to see me again. It wasn’t that big of a town, and I was a legend. Quarterback gone drug addict, as the rumor went. It hadn’t been confirmed that I had a history of using, but people knew. My name still held weight, but with a slightly different undertone, now.

           We came into the Campbell’s kitchen, which was swamped with housewives, businessmen, and professionals alike. In the center of the room by the island topped in refreshments stood two women who couldn’t be closer. They did practically everything together. From yoga to shopping to the occasional spa trip in Florida. I had never met two people better matched than they, and was proud to call one of them my mom, the other Alex’s mom.

           “Mom!” I called from where we were standing by the entrance of the room. About ten heads snapped my way, but only one (or, debatably, two) mattered. I grabbed Ari’s hand, and then quickly walked over to where my mother was standing. The woman’s face was alight with glee, as was mine. There was something special about a bond between a mother and her son that could almost never deteriorate. We had one of those special connections. She was always my support structure, and stood by me through it all.

           When I finally met her, she couldn’t resist, and attacked me in a loving hug. She kissed both my cheeks, and tears began to spring from the creases by her eyes. I contemplated crying for about a millisecond, but then sought against it, for I happened to be a guy who tried to never cry. I hugged my mom back tightly, and smiled. She dropped her arms for a moment, and then looked me other briefly.

           “I missed you so much, Eric,” she cried.

           “I missed you, too, Mom,” I told her.

           “And what about me?” Alex’s mom demanded with open arms. Sheepishly, I embraced her, and then retreated back over to Ari so the two of them could scrutinize us to their hearts’ content.

           “You’ve lost weight,” my mom determined as the final verdict, her sharp eyes meeting my own.

           “What are you talking about?” her best friend argued. “If anything, he’s gained weight! No offense, Eric.”

           “None taken,” I muttered, knowing fully well that my weight had stayed the exact same as when I had left.

           “Who’s this?” my mother then questioned, finally noticing Ari. It was the moment of truth. The girlfriend meeting the mother. Under normal circumstances, I probably would’ve waited another few months, but nothing about these circumstances were normal, so Ari was meeting my mom now.

           “Hi, I’m Ari, Eric’s girlfriend,” Ari introduced herself, sticking a hand out to both my mother and Alex’s.

           “Hello,” my mom said cautiously, “I’m Eric’s mother.”

           Ari was overly careful, but I didn’t blame her. My mom was great, but she was also like a piranha. You never knew when she would snap. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Wilson,” Ari gulped, then switching her hand over to Alex’s mom.

           “Hello, dear, I’m Alex’s mom,” the other woman introduced herself.

           “You have a lovely home, Ms. Campbell.”

           At that, she grinned broadly, and I knew that Ari had won over at least one of the two main middle-aged women in my life. The other, I wasn’t so sure. “Thank you, Ari,” Alex’s mom said graciously. “How long have you and Eric been together?”

           “A little over a month,” I semi-lied, then adding a quick, “but we’ve known each other since the beggining of the year.”

           “Oh, how nice,” my mom said, not giving any tells as to whether she actually meant it. “I presume you’ll be staying with us, Ari?”

           Ari opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off, already getting sick of how these suburban moms operated. I loved my mom, I really did. But sometimes I forgot how she could be. She was just trying to protect me, and I knew that, but she often went about it the wrong way. “Yes, she will be,” I answered for my girlfriend. I didn’t want my mom twisting her words or judging her because of a verbal misstep.

           “Have you seen your father yet?” sighed my mother, irritated that I hadn’t let Ari reply.

           “No.”

           “Well, he’s coming this way, so go give him a hug,” she prompted.

           At her words, my body froze as I slowly bent my head. And there, standing across the room, was my dad. I was often told that I looked a lot like him, but aside from our shared jawline and stature, I couldn’t really see it. He was a taller man—bigger than me by at least three inches—and used his height to intimidate. Unlike most dads, he wasn’t exactly the most welcoming, and when his eyes came across me, I almost broke down. In them was an emotion that I loathed: disappointment.

           Wanting to get the exchange other with, I went over to him, and started the uneasy conversation with a, “Hi, Dad.”

           “Son,” he said in response, “it’s, uh, good to see you.”

           “Is it?” I mumbled, sure that he had heard me.

           “It is,” he managed. “We’ll talk more at home. If you’ll excuse me, I have something to discuss with your mother.”

           I let him leave, and upon his absence, gained the presence of someone else. She was clinging to my arm, and was practically acting as my life support. “One question,” she whispered.

           “I’d answer a million for you, Ari Pomegranate,” I murmured back.

           “Who the hell is Alex?”

           I smiled, looking over to him as he chatted animatedly with his mom. Nothing had changed, even though everything had. I was his Jacob, and he was my Esau. There wasn’t really one particular way to describe Alex Campbell in a single phrase, but as I answered Ari Remon, I found one that would have to suffice: “My best friend.”