“Isn’t it your money, too, Mom?”
She paused, the stack of cups balanced in her hand like a miniature rainbow. “What are you going to major in instead?”
His gaze fell to the floor now. “I don’t know for sure,” he mumbled.
“Then I don’t know what else I can do, Zander. It’s really hard to argue that we should just pay for you to go and major in ‘not business’ at some college you haven’t even picked yet.”
“You told me the other day that you want me to go off to college and be an adult and live my own life.”
“And part of being an adult is making those decisions. Especially if you’re asking someone else to pay for them.”
He didn’t have an answer for that. He stared at her in silence, trying to wrap his brain around what she was saying, knowing that she was only trying to soften the blow – she agreed with his dad.
It was different than the conversation with his dad had been a couple of hours ago. Although the end result was the same, she wasn’t threatening him or trying to force him to make the decision she wanted him to – her expression as she looked at him was full of empathy. He couldn’t be angry with her.
A sudden noise from the doorway made both of them turn.
“I’m sorry,” Owen said. “I just really need to go home. Can Zander please take me home now?”
“Yeah, buddy. I’m going to take you home in just a few minutes. Can you just go and start getting your things together?”
With a look of overwhelming relief in his eyes, the little boy nodded and disappeared back down the hall.
“Look, Zan,” his mom said, “we’ll talk more about this. If it was entirely up to me, I would probably let you have a year or two of college to figure out what you want and decide what you’re going to do. But I can’t keep fighting your father on something when I don’t know what I’m fighting for.”
He nodded. “I know, Mom. Thanks for trying. I guess it’s my fault for not knowing what I want to do with myself, really. I just … learning about business and taking over Dad’s office someday – that’s not it for me. But I don’t know what the right thing is, either.”
She stretched up on her toes, and he grinned, leaning down so she could kiss him on the forehead. “Maybe you haven’t been able to make a decision because the right thing hasn’t presented itself to you yet.”
“You think a college major is just going to drop out of the sky?”
“Maybe,” she chuckled. “Or maybe it’s something you don’t know anything about yet.”
He raised an eyebrow at her.
“I know. I sound crazy. I just think there’s something more for you out there, Zander. I thought maybe you’d find it at college, but I could be wrong about that.”
“But you don’t think it’s doing exactly what Dad did?”
“I love your father, Zander. He’s a good man, and he loves all of us, and I’m grateful for his business, for the work that he does, and the way he’s always been able to support our family with it. But no, it’s not what I imagine for you.”
“She’s right.” Owen’s voice startled both of them again. Zander hadn’t heard him approaching at all. “You’re not supposed to grow up and sell buildings.”
“Oh?” Zander held out his hands, forgetting for a moment that Owen didn’t usually allow much contact. He remembered before he actually grabbed the little boy, but Owen surprised him and stepped forward, allowing Zander to scoop him up and set him on the counter so that the two of them were at eye level. “What am I supposed to do when I grow up, then?”
Owen looked into his eyes with such seriousness that a little shiver zipped down his spine. “I don’t know yet, but I think it’s important.”
He didn’t know how he was going to manage something “important” with either no college, or some mountain of debt from student loans, but he wasn’t going to say that to Owen. He just smiled. “Well, Owen, all I know is that it’s almost three in the morning, and it’s really important right now to get you home and to bed. I’m going to go and warm up the truck for you.”
His mother followed him outside, carrying Owen’s backpack. Zander opened the door of the truck, tossed Owen’s big pillow and blanket inside, and turned the key, flipping the heater on.
“You’re not too upset to drive, are you?” she asked.
“No. Two hours ago, I probably was, but I’m not now.”
“It will all work out somehow.”
“It’s hard to see it that way right now.”
“You will, though. I know I don’t say this enough, Zander, but I’m proud of you. I always have been, of course, but watching you now … you’re becoming a really great young man. Taking Owen tonight – caring for him instead of having a weekend to yourself – not many eighteen-year-old boys would do that. When you do decide what you want to do with your life, I think it will be the right decision the first time.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I love you, Zander. More than anything.”
“I love you, too.”
“Be safe, okay?”
He nodded and leaned in to her hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her. He didn’t know why, but something about this felt … off. Maybe it was just because she was worried about his reaction, but it was like something had changed, and he didn’t know what. It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t chase away the thought that he wouldn’t be hugging her like this again for a long time. He almost couldn’t let go.
“I’ll go get Owen,” she finally whispered against his ear, before kissing him on the cheek, and then turning and heading back into the house.
* * *
“You’re sure you’re okay with this, Owen?” Zander asked when they pulled into the driveway of the Robbins’ house. “Nobody is here.”
“You’re here.”
Zander grinned, reaching for Owen’s backpack. “That’s true. I’m here.”
“Thank you for bringing me home,” Owen said, as Zander helped him down from the cab. “I know you probably didn’t want to baby-sit tonight.”
“You’re not a baby, bud. You’re my friend. All I’m doing is hanging out with my friend.”
The shy smile that slid up the corners of Owen’s mouth then was enough to make the whole thing worth it to Zander.
“So, what was going on at my house?” he asked as he punched in the numbers for the garage code. “Did you have a nightmare or something?”
Owen was silent as the door went up, and he still didn’t say anything as the two of them walked through the garage and then into the kitchen.
Zander was starting to wonder if he’d upset him by asking the question when Owen climbed up onto one of the stools at the island and rested his chin on his hands, looking at Zander with an intense expression in his brown eyes. “It wasn’t a nightmare, exactly.”
“No? Just a dream that bothered you?”
“I don’t know yet. I can’t remember enough of it right now. All I can remember is him telling me I needed to be at home, that I should be home.”
“Who told you that, Owen?” He was starting to get a little freaked out now.
“Alvin.”
Zander’s legs suddenly felt like jelly. “Who is Alvin, Owen?” Surely, the little boy had to be talking about someone else – not the strange man he’d met down at the river the other day.
The look Owen gave him then made Zander’s stomach flip like it was on a roller coaster. He didn’t answer the question, either. After several seconds of studying Zander, he said, “Do you ever think there are things that are just supposed to happen?”
Now Zander paused. “Like things you can’t control?”
“Mmm … sort of. But more like there’s a certain way things are supposed to be, and that when they’re not that way, things keep happening to try to get them to be that way.”
Zander swallowed, thinking of the conversation with his father earlier. Was it possible that he was going to grow up and take over the business anyway, no
matter what he thought he wanted? “Don’t we have a choice, Owen?”
“That’s not what I mean. You always have a choice. Some people always do the wrong thing, no matter how many chances they have to do something right.”
“What if you don’t know what the right choice is?”
Owen looked thoughtful. “Nobody always knows what the right choice is. Everyone makes a choice sometimes that messes everything up. I guess what I’m talking about right now isn’t about right choices or wrong ones. I mean more like … do you think there’s something bigger than just what we think we want?”
Zander looked at the clock. Three fifteen. This was so not the time to be dealing with a conversation like this. With an eight year old who was thinking heavier thoughts than Zander ever usually did. “Can I say I don’t know right now, Owen? It’s really time that you should be in bed.”
“Okay.”
Getting Owen tucked back into bed was easy. Zander left the door propped open and hung out in the hallway for a little while, listening for any sign of trouble, but within a few minutes the breathing from the little boy’s room was slow and steady. He headed back toward the stairs to go get his own stuff.
It was then Zander realized that staying in this house for the weekend might be harder on him than on Owen.
He’d been so preoccupied with taking care of Owen when they arrived, that he hadn’t realized it was the first time he’d been at the Robbins’ house since the last time he’d come to pick up Quinn – when they were still together.
Now, he was staring at the closed door to her room. Maybe Owen would have called it one of the choices that messes everything up, but he couldn’t help himself.
In the next instant, the door was open, and he flipped the switch on the wall, bringing to life the reading lamp on the little table next to her bed.
He looked around the room, the whole time feeling like he’d been kicked in the gut.
Everything was the same. If they’d started packing for their move, they hadn’t yet touched Quinn’s room. It looked like she’d only just been here. Her desk might have been a bit neater than usual, and the lid was closed neatly over the white wicker hamper, instead of sitting on top of her chest of drawers while the clothes overflowed the basket, the way he remembered it often being, but otherwise…
He half expected her to follow him into the room, to sling her backpack over the back of the wooden desk chair, to flop onto the bed, still neatly made exactly the way she always did it herself. It was all so familiar, he somehow automatically drifted to the cozy reading chair – her prized spot, but where she’d always let him sit, so they could remain a respectable distance from each other in case her mother peeked in through the required crack in the door.
The emotions that overcame him sitting in here surprised him. After all, she hadn’t died – she was just living somewhere else right now. But his emotional response was so overwhelming that he’d been sitting there for probably way too long before he realized exactly how strange it was.
Shouldn’t she have taken some of her stuff with her? The green blanket that was folded on the end of the bed – he knew that was her favorite; she’d slept with it every night since they were little kids. He wasn’t sure she was capable of watching a movie on the couch without it. And yet – there it was.
The picture of her and her real father was still on her nightstand, too, and he knew how much that one meant to her. And was that…? It was. Her cell phone was there, sitting next to the picture, in the same spot she always left it.
He wasn’t even being cautious now. Crossing the room, he picked up the phone, flipping it open and pressing the power button. Nothing. He pulled open the nightstand drawer, where he knew she kept her charger. It was there, too, and he took it out and plugged in her phone. A few seconds later, the battery symbol appeared on the screen, letting him know it was charging. The power button worked now, but it would take a few minutes for it to come all the way on.
He closed the nightstand drawer – there were still journals and papers in there, but looking through those just didn’t feel right.
Of course, the next thing he did felt a little intrusive, too – walking to her closet and pulling open the folding doors – but at this point, he had to see. It was still full of clothes. Long sleeves, short sleeves – they were all here. If anything was missing, it wasn’t obvious.
He was beginning to feel a little sick to his stomach.
Just as he was closing the closet doors again, her phone started going crazy. It lit up like a Christmas tree and buzzed every second or two for the better part of a minute.
Knowing he was definitely crossing a line, he picked it up and scrolled through the options. There were several dozen new text messages – he could see that most of them were from Abigail, and there were a few from him, too. He knew what those said already.
He was more interested in her sent messages, so he went quickly to those. Once he did, he was even more confused. The very last message she’d sent was sometime in March, to her mother.
I picked up Annie from Maggie’s.
Going to spend some time with her, and then I’ll bring her home.
I need to talk to you.
He looked at the date using the calendar over Quinn’s desk, which was still turned to March. She’d sent that message on the last day of school before spring break. There was nothing after that.
He remembered that day clearly. It was the day after she’d broken up with him, on the phone.
Scrolling to the outgoing calls, he found it immediately. The twenty-three minute phone call that had broken his heart was nearly the last one she’d made. The only one after that was labeled “Will and Nathaniel – Home”. It took him a minute to realize the names must refer to Doctor Rose and William Rose – he’d never heard anyone, let alone Quinn, refer to either of them by anything informal. That call had only been three minutes long, made on the first Sunday of spring break – the day he’d seen her having brunch with Megan in the café.
Chained to the wall by the power cord, he sat down on her bed and started looking through all of the calls now. There were several more outgoing calls to the Roses’ number, including a few calls mixed in with incoming ones from Zander’s own number, labeled as “missed”. There weren’t any text messages to or from either of them, though.
In fact, the only other text message that was interesting at all was one to Quinn’s mom on that same Wednesday she’d broken up with him. It was short, informing Megan that Quinn planned to go to the hospital with William that night to see his brother. She’d sent it during school.
Even in the few sparse words she used in that message, though, he could feel the anger and distance between Quinn and her mom. He knew they’d been fighting then, but he didn’t understand all of it.
Megan’s response to that message was an equally short,
Fine. We won’t plan on staying up for you. Make sure you have your key.
So that’s what Quinn had come home to the night she’d called to break up with him.
He didn’t understand any of this. It was almost like Quinn had stopped existing after the day he’d last seen her. She didn’t have her phone; she didn’t have her clothes or her things…
For days, he’d been convincing himself to let this go. But now… There was something just too strange about it. It wasn’t right.
He stopped short of listening to her voicemail messages. That was too personal, or at least that’s what he told himself. Of course, he also didn’t have the password, and he knew that it would be obvious that the messages had been listened to. Anyway, he was almost certain he wouldn’t hear anything – it was probably all messages from him and Abigail, maybe some other people from school wondering where she’d gone.
Leaning back against her pillows, he opened the phone’s photo album, but he regretted that almost immediately. So many of the pictures were of him and Quinn, laughing and goofy together, clearly happy, and – he’d thought – i
n love. Maybe that had been a stupid thought to have at eighteen.
There was Quinn standing on the bottom step in her Valentine dress, as Zander put on her corsage, there were pictures at school, pictures of them tubing at the ski resort… At some point, someone – probably Abigail – had even been sneaky and snapped a picture of the two of them kissing at a table at Bruno’s Pizza.
There were lots of pictures of her family too, pictures of Annie dressed up in the skirt Quinn had bought her for her birthday, Owen holding up a collection of interesting rocks… His only consolation was that there were no pictures of “Will” or his brother.
Even the pictures seemed strange, though. Zander’s phone, too, had once been filled with shots like these ones, but after Quinn had broken up with him, he’d pulled out the memory card and tucked it in a shoebox on a shelf in his closet. He didn’t want to delete those pictures, but he didn’t want them staring at him every time he opened his phone either.
On Quinn’s phone, the pictures, like everything else, stopped right at the beginning of spring break. There were quite a few pictures of Annie – far more than Quinn would normally take of a single event – dated the same day she’d sent that text to her mother. It appeared she’d taken Annie out for hot chocolate and then shopping.
And then, there was nothing.
He couldn’t slow his pounding heart, or calm the churning in his stomach. If he didn’t know better, he would think … there was no way that something really bad had happened to Quinn – was there?
~ 10 ~
Thorns
Rosewood Castle, Eirentheos
THE BABY HAD just finished nursing and was drifting off to sleep in Quinn’s arms when William finally returned to their room.
Quinn glanced at the clock over the mantel, and she looked back at him in time to see that was where he’d been looking, too.
“I didn’t think you’d still be up,” he half-whispered.
Canes of Divergence (Dusk Gate Chronicles) Page 8
