Chapter 6 - The Cooler in the Hallway
The lobby aftermath was where we met. That was where I handed my cap back and walked away.
No one followed me.
Not Mom. Not Dad. Not Colton.
They stayed frozen near the pillar, trapped between their meticulously planned celebration and the sudden, inconvenient reality that another person had occupied the same hours of the same day.
As I walked toward the glass exit doors, my cousin Deacon stepped out from behind a concrete column. Deacon was mother’s sister’s son, the black sheep of the family only because he refused to work in insurance or attend football tailgates. He was wearing a faded flannel shirt and carrying a large plastic cooler on wheels.
He stopped, let the handle drop, and looked at me with his heavy-lidded eyes.
He didn't offer a hug or a joke. He just looked at the plaque under my arm, then back up at my face.
He shook his head once, a slow, bitter motion.
As he walked past me toward the parking lot, he leaned over and whispered, “Yeah. I know.”
That was all. But it was enough to keep my spine straight as I pushed through the glass doors into the blinding Tulsa afternoon.
Sloan and Emmett were waiting by my Civic.
Sloan had her keys out. Emmett was holding a cardboard box containing my extra tassel, a framed parking pass I had saved from sophomore year, and a coffee mug from the campus union.
“Are we going to the restaurant?” Emmett asked, though his tone made it clear he hoped the answer was no.
“No,” I said, opening the passenger door. “We are going to my apartment.”
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“What about your parents?” Sloan asked softly, sliding into the driver's seat.
“They have Colton,” I said. “And Colton has them. I think everyone is exactly where they belong.”
