Adrien Walker
I look down at the carrier bag in front of my crossed legs, this hoodie is just another reminder of the fact that he's actually gone.
I don't want this stupid hoodie, I want Dad.
Nearly two years later and there's still some hope that he'll walk through the front door like the past 20 months did not happen. I know, I know, he won't but I can't stop hoping he will.
I angrily wipe away the tears.
Why am I even crying right now?
I should feel happy. Grateful even.
I finally have something of his, well minus his car. But even that was something Ma had to force me to use to ensure I could get to and from school safely.
There's a reason I haven't dared to go into their bedroom. The last time I stepped foot in there was when I looked for Elaine a few days after Dad's funeral. I asked Maya to put all of Dad's and Elaine's belongings in their room and to leave them there.
I don't need the constant reminders laying around the house, the staggering silence within the walls is enough.
Hell, I don't even know if Elaine ever asked Maya to clear out their stuff, I never asked. I probably should. But what use is it now?
I have this hoodie, though.
His championship hoodie.
Not a letter.
Not a goodbye note.
Not some ramblings of life advice.
No, none of that.
Just this hoodie.
I chuckle heartlessly, "I would have appreciated a letter Dad," I say looking up at the sky, "Even Charlie left Trevor a notebook."
I don't mean to be resentful, but a part of me is.
It's unfair.
Where was his goodbye to me?
I didn't even get a chance to give him a proper goodbye.
I was so sure he would be fine. That he'd make it through the operation okay. Dad was a fighter.
Till he wasn't.
"But I know you fought it the best you could Dad," I sigh, "I'm just in a shitty mood right now. I'm sorry."
My mind doesn't blame him, it's not his fault he was ill and I know he tried.
I know...
But my heart refuses to accept that he didn't purposely leave me.
My mind goes back to the hospital, I shouldn't have let Elaine dictate who could be there. Dad wanted Ma and Luke there. They should have got to say their goodbyes.
"I should have been a better son and made sure things happened the way you would have wanted them to. I shouldn't have let Elaine control so much."
Just before they took Dad for the operation. He held me tightly whispering into my ear, "Promise me you'll look after yourself and Luke," I squeezed him back just as tightly promising I would.
I love you my little lion, forever and always were his last words to me.
I love you too Dad, forever and always were mine to him.
"I'm sorry I haven't been keeping my promises, Dad. But I promise to start doing better," And I truly do mean it.
It's time to stop pushing people away because very soon I'll have no one left. I can't keep expecting them to forgive me, and move on.
I need fewer regrets.
I wish I'd said more than that to him.
I wished I told him that he was the best Dad, he always put me first, no matter what. He loved me with every fibre of his being and he made sure I knew that every day. He actually cared about me, he cared in a way no one else ever will.
I would have apologised for being such a shitty son at times.
"I miss you, Dad."
I miss waffle Wednesdays because everyone needs a mid-week pick-me-up as Dad would say.
I miss movie marathon Saturdays, the only day in the week you'd let me stay up late. Maybe it's because you desperately wanted a lie-in on a Sunday. Lazy Sundays.
I miss you driving me to school every morning.
I miss the little things more than anything.
I miss walking through the door after basketball training to find you covered in some sauce or flour or something asking me to try your new creation. Usually, it was you messing up the steps in a recipe you were supposedly following.
"Remember the time you burnt 6 bulbs of garlic in the oven? I asked you what recipe would ask for 6 bulbs of garlic and you confessed you got bulbs and cloves mixed up. But the fact that you didn't even question it," I can't help but laugh at the memory, "Elaine screamed at you as soon as she walked in from work. It took weeks for the stench to disappear. Could taste garlic in everything we cooked in the oven for absolute ages." I shake my head at the memory. Dad actually stopped buying garlic for months and would grimace any time we had to use the oven.
I sigh heavily, throwing my head back and looking up at the sky, "I wish I was more prepared for you to die."
But I guess nothing can possibly prepare you for that.
I knew there was a chance it would kill him.
Yet I still believed he'd make it. Simply because the odds were apparently in his favour.
I wished I'd let myself believe the fact he was actively dying, that it wasn't a short-term illness.
Maybe then I would have been more prepared.
Or would I have been like Luke when we found out Charlie was dying? Constantly worrying I'd receive the news of his death. That I wouldn't be there when he dies.
My phone buzzes bringing me out of my thoughts.
I smile when I see that it's Luke.
L: You okay?
Shit, I didn't reply to his last message asking if Ethan and I are okay.
L: Where are you?
Just as I'm about to type out a reply the roof door slams open.
"See I told you he'd be on the roof!" Luke exclaims happily, looking back at Trevor.
I quickly wipe away any last tears.
Trevor frowns at me and I subtly shake my head telling him not to bring it up.
"I never doubted you," Trevor replies ruffling Luke's hair before sitting next to me.
What are they doing here?
Luke sits opposite us, so we're in a little triangle.
"Aren't you both supposed to be in physics?"
"We got let out early, we were gonna go to the library but Luke was worried," Trevor replies.
I look over at Luke to see him already staring at the bag, completely zoned out to Trevor and I's conversation.
"So what's in the bag?" Luke asks still staring at it.
Guess there's no avoiding it.
"Macie gave me it," He looks at me in confusion so I clarify, "it's Dad's hoodie. He gave her it before the championship game," Luke's face quickly changes to a big O.
"Have you looked at it yet?" Trevor asks.
I shake my head, "No, just stared at the bag for over an hour."
"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic."
"I'm being serious."
Trevor turns to look at me with, eyebrows scrunched up and head slightly tilted like he's trying to look directly into my mind.
"Why?" Luke asks also giving me a weird look.
I sigh heavily, "I don't know."
I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes.
"Maybe I'm finding it weird actually having something of Dad's. Like I know I drive his car, but this is more personal. And it's not something Dad left for me, it's something someone else gave me. And it's just strange," I shrug, "I don't know why it is. But it just is."
"But you have all of Pops' stuff at home. Why is this weird?" Luke asks confused.
"I haven't actually gone through any of Dad's stuff," I groan, "Been avoiding their bedroom. I just know Maya cleans in there sometimes."
"So you literally don't have anything of Pops? Well minus the car."
My silence answers his question.
"Why?" He asks once again.
I shrug, "I don't know. It just feels wrong. At first, some part of me thought he'd magically return from the dead so I shouldn't touch it. And then the thought of just taking something felt wrong. Like Dad didn't give me it you know? He didn't have a will where he said I could have something of his. Even the car, Ma convinced me to use it so I could get to school and back okay."
"Adrien," Luke says my name in such a way that makes me look at him, "Pops would have wanted you to have his stuff, he may not expressed it in writing but you're his son."
"You were a son to him too. I don't know what he would have wanted me to have and what he would have wanted you to have. So it just feels wrong to take things on assumption."
"Well, what if you both went through some of his stuff?" Trevor asks. Always the one with the logical strategy.
Luke nods, "I'd like that."
"You can have Dad's watch collection," I state, it's really a no-brainer.
"Because I have time blindness?" He asks a little offended.
I forgot about his awful time management skills. It's an ADHD thing.
Are watches even helpful to people with ADHD?
I remember reading some blog posts by people with ADHD saying they sit and stare at the time when they have plans to make sure they don't miss them. Will it make Luke more time aware? Is that a bad thing?
I really need to do some more reading.
"No, I just said that because I can't stand the ticking sound."
Stupid misophonia.
Luke blinks and then slowly says, "Oh."
"Yeah, sorry I didn't mean to offend you or anything."
"It's fine," He replies waving his hand.
"Shall we come over on the weekend?" Trevor asks.
I nod, "Sure."
I'm actually relieved I won't be alone at the weekend.
"So are you going to take it out of the bag?" Luke asks eyeing it, and I know he really wants to see it.
I pass him the bag.
"You serious?"
I just nod.
He'll get more joy from opening it.
"It's orange! Your favourite colour! Isn't that awesome?" Luke exclaims pulling it out of the bag with a giant smile.
He genuinely seems so happy.
"You can keep it if you want."
He pauses, and they both just stare at me as if I've suddenly sprouted another head. Luke shakes his head, "No Adrien, this is yours. There is no way I'm keeping it. But look how cool this is! It's actually in great condition."
Dad was always one to look after his stuff, so I'm not surprised it's in mint condition. But it seems like Macie took great care of it too which I'm thankful for. I'm surprised she even kept it this long.
I stare at the number 6 on the back, a small smile plays on my lips, it was Dad's favourite number. A nod to Bill Russell, the true GOAT.
The letters above the number cause my smile to drop.
DIRIC.
Dad and Elaine never married. Elaine claimed she didn't believe in the ideology of a piece of paper. Elaine named me. She wouldn't even let me have Dad's surname, her argument being she was the one that had to carry me for 9 months. I wish I had the surname Diric, meaning bold and fearless. I'd like to think it describes me better than whatever Walker means.
"Adrien," I turn to Trevor and just by looking at his face I know it's one of those moments he's going to impart some wisdom, "When your Dad passed away you had a lot of displaced anger and emotion, displacement is a defence mechanism and through therapy, you've learnt better coping mechanisms. Right now you're angry, upset and sad because the hoodie represents a lot to you. Yes, it's just a hoodie. But to you it signifies the fact that your Dad's gone and didn't actually leave you anything, he didn't prepare a will, or letter, or note or you, for that matter, for his death. Which then develops into anger, resentment, sadness and guilt for feeling that way. And you're trying to brush away feeling like that. One of the ways you're doing that is by avoiding going through his things, and the other is right now by refusing to accept the hoodie."
The entire time Luke's nodding along like a bobblehead. I ignore him and instead stare at Trevor, slowly processing his words.
I do feel a little called out, maybe he is right.
Trevor usually is always right.
I'm about to say something when the warning bell rings making Luke groan loudly. He passes me the hoodie sternly saying, "It's yours."
I nod and attempt a small smile.
"We'll see you at lunch?" Trevor asks.
I'm about to nod but remember Ethan, "I'm spending lunch with Ethan in the nurses' office."
Luke frowns, "How is he?"
I shrug, not knowing how to answer that. How do I say he's had the life beat out of him but he's still managing to stand up straight?
"Pretty beaten up, but he's hanging in there."
They both look sympathetic, "We've got your back Adrien and his. So if there's anything either of you need, let us know," Trevor says holding my shoulder.
"Thanks, man."
Luke pulls me into a hug, "Twelve minimum twenty-second hugs a day."
I can't help but smile, as I wrap my arms around him, he hasn't forgotten.
"Adrien it's not break or lunch, you should be in class," Macie says as soon as I step foot into the nurses' office.
"Forgot my backpack Mace," I smile when she glares at me.
"Hurry up and grab it, you're going to get detention at this rate."
"You know," I start walking towards her desk, as she lifts an eyebrow and crosses her arms, "It's RP and Principle Parker is making us work in pairs. My partner's in the nurses' office right now, so I'm afraid I won't be able to work on the project. Guess there's no point in me going to Ms Lii's," I say shrugging, "Wouldn't it make more sense for me to work on the project with my partner where he is as he's unable to leave the nurses' office?"
She's full-on glaring at me by the time I finish, "Adrien, I am sure you can manage to work by yourself just this once. The school year has just begun so the most you'll be doing is planning, which I am absolutely certain you can do on your own."
My smile grows, "I don't doubt that. However, it's a research paper to be written in pairs. Input by both parties is required from start to finish, per Ms Lii's rules. The planning stage is considered the start."
I swear I hear her mutter, "Little shit," under her breath which makes me smile wider.
"Don't be a nuisance, and I will be checking in on you both to make sure you're working on the project," She says sternly, still glaring at me.
I grab my backpack, "Thank you, Macie!" I practically run to Ethan before she can change her mind.
I gently knock on the door before entering, Ethan's already sitting up staring at me as I step inside the room.
He probably heard Macie and me just now.
I smile at him, "So how are you feeling?"
There's only a bed in the room, so I sit at the foot of it.
"A little better," He says picking at the loose thread on the sleeve of his hoodie.
"That's good. Macie said we have to work on the project but if you're not feeling up to it, we don't have to."
He shakes his head, "No I don't mind, we might as well get some planning done."
He grabs his backpack off the floor and pulls out a notebook and pen, "Mental health is quite a broad subject. Is there anything, in particular, you want to address in the project?"
I shake my head, "I don't mind."
"Do you have any ideas on what we could write about?"
Again I shake my head, I really have thought about it.
Ethan moves so he's sitting up leaning against the wall, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed. He props a pillow between the wall and his back. He passes me the second pillow. I do the same so we're sitting next to each other.
"It's 10,000 words so I was thinking it would be easier if we split that into 5 different topics or sections so we'd just be doing 5 2,000-word essays, for example, if we discuss and analyse 5 different types of mental health disorders. Or we could write about how treatment for mental health disorders has evolved and bring in case studies to compare past and present cases. Or we could do a mixture of those two approaches discuss and analyse 3 different mental health disorders and include the history of said disorders with case studies. What do you think?"
He really has put a lot of thought into how to approach the project.
He actually seems a little smart.
I wouldn't have thought of adding case studies.
"I think the last approach would work best, just to make sure the research paper covers everything, that way we can't run out of things to write about."
Ethan nods, writing something down, "Alright, which 3 mental health disorders shall we write about?"
I shrug.
"Should we go for depression and anxiety? They seem like quite common disorders so there will be plenty of research and case studies."
I nod, "Sure."
I was thinking about how I needed to research ADHD earlier, so maybe? Kill two birds with one stone.
"What about ADHD?"
"ADHD isn't a mental health condition, it's considered a neurological and developmental disorder. Oh, we could write about the overlap of mental health and neurodevelopmental disorders like ADHD and Autism. That's a good idea," He says writing some more.
He makes it sound like I came up with the idea when it was all him.
He might actually be smart.
No, there's no way, he literally sleeps through every single class.
"We could do about BPD - bipolar disorder?"
Ethan nods, "Depression, anxiety and BPD. And if we have enough words left we can do the comparison between mental health and neurodevelopmental disorders."
He finally looks up at me and smiles, "We sort of have a plan, we just need to do an outline now before we start researching."
"Why can't we research and then outline what we'll write about?"
"Outlines help aid research, that way we won't go off-topic or write about one more than the others. If we have an outline, we know exactly what we need to write about. We'll do the outline in reference with the help sheets and marking pointers Ms Lii gave us."
I nod, he really does sound like he knows what he's doing.
Maybe I misjudged his academic skills.
--
It's only taken them 24 chapters to actually start working on the project.
I kept changing the chapter, still not 100% happy with it but you guys have waited long enough!
Thank you all for your continued support, it really means a lot! <3