Dear Professor(57)

I squeezed some ketchup onto the side of my plate and picked a fry up. I dipped it a few times before dropping it and looking at Jordan. “Do you mind… How did she die?”

“Amanda?” he questioned.

At my nod, he sipped from his drink.

“She was killed in a car crash. Drunk driver.”

Chills ran across my skin at those final two words. What were the chances? Just an hour ago, I’d spoken to my mom and had Griffin pushed to the forefront of my mind, and now, I was there…sitting with Jordan, a man whose wife had been killed in the same way.

“I’m sorry. I knew someone who passed the same way.”

He gave a wry twist of his lips. “Were they the drunk driver?”

“I—no. He wasn’t.”

“He?”

“My high school boyfriend.” I grimaced and dipped my fry in ketchup again. “Right before Halloween. He’d been the designated driver at a party and was on his way home after dropping me off at my house. He had an SUV go into the driver’s side of his car. He died on impact.” My heart was clenching inside my chest, the old wound reopening.

I understood then, truly. The pain would never leave. It’d just become a little more livable every day until it dulled.

“I’m sorry, Darcy. That must have been hard.”

I shrugged. “It was what it was, you know? If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else. Maybe someone with a husband or wife and kids.”

“I understand. Amanda almost killed someone along with herself.”

“She was the drunk one?”

Jordan nodded slowly and picked some lettuce off his burger. His eyes flicked to mine before he explained. “She’d been battling alcohol addiction since the early days of our marriage. She’d had three short stays in rehab, the last one not long before she died. It was the same old story. She told me she was working late. Then the next thing I knew, I was spending my nights in the ICU next to the sobbing family of the girl she’d hit. They left. She didn’t.”

My throat closed up. The wave of emotion I felt was overwhelming. It spread over me in a chill that radiated up and down my spine, eventually coming to settle in a dull ache in my heart. I couldn’t imagine the suffering he’d been through. All those nights, waiting and wondering…

I was right. There were a hundred layers to him that he kept carefully hidden.

“I’m sorry. That sucks.” Wow. If that wasn’t the lamest thing I’d ever said.#p#分页标题#e#

“It did at the time,” Jordan said, meeting my eyes. “But the young girl got lucky. Amanda hit the back of her car. If it hadn’t been then, it would have happened another day, and the other person may not have been so lucky. I’m thankful that no one else had to endure the pain of her addiction.”

“Do you miss her?” I tore a piece of my burger off and popped it in my mouth.

“Sometimes. It’s not as bad as it was before. But, without sounding like a total heartless bastard, I’m also glad. She doesn’t have to battle with herself every day anymore, and selfishly, I’m glad I don’t have to battle with her, either.”

“I don’t think that’s selfish at all. It sounds like you dedicated a lot of time to her addiction. It doesn’t make you a bad person if you’re relieved it’s no longer part of your life. It makes you human. We’re designed to be thankful when the negative things that dragged us down aren’t around anymore… It’s just the way we are. It’s like…that scratchy sweatshirt your grandmother knitted you and the relief when she leaves after the holidays and you can stuff it in the back of the closet. Just because it isn’t there doesn’t mean you don’t care about it. You can care about what happened without feeling guilty for being relieved.”

“Very well explained.” He offered me a small smile. “Now, I see why you’re studying law.”

I shrugged as my cheeks flushed lightly. “Ever lived with twin boys? You have to learn to be diplomatic. Mostly to get them to stop running around the house with your underwear on their head.”

“You have brothers?” He bites into his burger, one eyebrow raised.

“Yep. They’re seven and totally batshit crazy.” I picked my glass up and pursed my lips. “And I’m pretty sure they still do the underwear thing, just with my mom’s.”

“I assume she doesn’t have the same skills as you do.”

“The persuasive ones? Absolutely not.” I laugh. “She always joked that I could be on death row and talk myself out of the execution as it was in progress. And, despite my major, there’s a chance that I may or may not have talked myself out of a parking ticket, two speeding tickets, and having my license revoked.”