to the prom because I wanted to go with you. I really did. I know I haven’t given you a reason to believe that for ten years, but I wanted to be with you that night. I was even thinking about telling you about Caleb.” He paused. “And okay, I was also hoping that we’d at least make out.”
Emotions were tumbling around inside me like clothes in a dryer. Sadness, excitement, empathy, dread. I tossed my ice-cold cup into the nearest trash and hugged my arms around myself as if I could protect myself. “Holden, tell me what happened.”
He sighed. “This is the part that doesn’t make me look very good. On prom night, I got drunk.”
I blinked at him. “Drunk?”
He nodded. He looked tense and miserable as he spoke. “I was getting dressed in my room, getting ready to pick you up. Caleb came in with a bottle of tequila and said we should have a shot to celebrate.”
“Was that what you two usually did?”
“No. I was an athlete. I stayed away from alcohol and drugs. I could see what all of that was doing to my brother. He wasn’t interested in hanging out with me anyway, because I was five years younger. But that night, he decided we should drink.”
I thought that over. “So you took the shot.”
“Yes. And then another one. I was nervous about picking you up, and Caleb was convincing. He put some music on. I thought he would leave my room after the second shot, but he didn’t. He just sprawled on my bed and poured more shots.”
“And you drank them.”
Holden slowly scratched his jaw. “I could blame Caleb. I think he was fucking with me. I think he came into my room that night because part of him didn’t want me to be happy, to go and have a fun, normal time at senior prom. I think part of him wanted me to be as unhappy and as empty as he was. That’s why he came into my room that night of all nights, ready to get me drunk.” He dropped his hand. “But it was me who took those drinks. The more drunk I got, the more drinking seemed like a really good idea. Then I realized I was in no shape to take you to prom anymore. I was a mess, and I sure as hell couldn’t drive. So why not have some more?”
I blinked at him. “So that’s it?” I asked. “After all that humiliation and ten years of silence, your explanation is ‘I got hammered?’”
Holden was silent for a long minute, looking past me into the park. His expression was so bleak it carved a hole in my heart.
Then he seemed to pull himself together, and he looked at me again.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s the explanation.”
Something about this wasn’t quite right, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. I didn’t think that Holden was lying; I thought maybe he was leaving something out. “So you just drank in your bedroom all night?” I asked.
“No. Caleb took me out to a bar with some of his friends from the restaurant business. I was still wearing my dress shirt and pants, though I hadn’t had time to put my tie on. They poured drinks into me until I puked. I passed out in the backseat of a car—I don’t remember who was driving—and then I puked again in our driveway when I got out. The last thing I remember is thinking I would take a shower. I woke up hours later, dressed and covered in puke, curled up in the bathtub.”
It was convincing. It was most likely true. But he was leaving something out. I was sure of it.
“So when you woke up, you didn’t think to call me and apologize?” I said. “Or come by my house? Or write me a letter?”
“I was so fucking embarrassed,” Holden said, his voice hoarse. “I knew deep down how much I’d hurt you. I couldn’t face it. I was a coward. I knew it, but I couldn’t make myself do anything about it. I was a coward, and I stayed a coward.”
I swallowed. “Your parents must have been impressed.”
“They were livid. I’ve never seen them so angry. They thought I was going to turn into Caleb. I thought my father was actually tempted to hit me, he was so mad. Caleb thought the whole thing was funny, of course. He was entertained.”
Holden’s brother sounded like a manipulative asshole, but I kept that