Twenty Four Weeks - Episode 14 - "Twenty Five" (PG)

by James David Denisson

not looking forward to this, the same way I wasn't looking forward to seeing Quinn's parents. Maybe more so, because my family are a bunch of crazy people. Quinn is right, they'll be polite, but I think it'll fall apart quickly, it always does. Wendy usually kept things in check but she won't be there.

  Quinn opens her eyes as I open the door to the hallway outside.

  "Where are you going?" she asks me.

  "Nowhere," I say. "I just have something to do."

  "Don't be long."

  "I won't." I look at her weary eyes. "You know you don't have to do this?"

  "I know."

  "Because you look exhausted. I don't want to face my family like this. We can do it another time."

  She shakes her head.

  "Well," I continue, "I guess if it gets too much we can pull the plug."

  "Sure."

  "I worry about you, you know?"

  "Thank you," she says with a yawn. "But I'll be fine."

  "Okay," I say and leave her to rest.

  Mom greets us at the front door. The others stand behind her. I let Quinn go in first, but it's not like I'm throwing her to the wolves, its just I'm putting her first, looking after her.

  "Quinn, darling," my mother says sweetly. "It's so good to see you."

  "Thank you for having us over," my wife says nervously.

  "Not at all. You're family."

  I wondering if she still thinks Quinn is family after everything.

  "I was so sorry to hear about Mort. I should have said it at the Shiva, but?"

  "Thank you, dear."

  Alice and Quinn embrace, compare bellies. My sister-in-law is not showing much yet, but my wife definitely looks pregnant. They exchange their congratulations. Everyone is telling Quinn she looks wonderful and how good a mother she is going to be. Paul has a look on his face that suggests that she hasn't been a good wife, but he keeps it to himself.

  And then we sit, around the table of my family. Quinn and I. Paul and Alice. My mother. I don't know where Phillip is, and Wendy is at the other side of the country.

  "Phillip will be along shortly," my mother explains, which answers my unspoken question.

  "How many weeks are you," Alice asks.

  "Twenty five," Quinn says, and she takes my hand under the table.

  We're eating, and the discussions turn to baby things. It turns out Alice has a head start on her baby preparations. We're preoccupied with our marriage, so much that we've fallen behind. But I don't care. There's plenty of time. Phillip turns up halfway through, grabs a plate and joins us.

  Then, with the dinner over and plates away, the family stand, but Quinn remains. She looks at them, they look at her, and then they take their seats again.

  "I just have some things to say," she says, "to get them out in the open. If that's okay?"

  "Sure thing," Phillip says.

  "What is it, dear?" my mother asks.

  Quinn takes a deep breath. "Firstly I want you to know how sorry I am for what's happened. There were a lot of reasons for it, and Judd and I are sorting through them, but... well, I messed up." She laughs a little. "Messed up... it sounds like it was a small thing. But I messed up big and I hurt Judd terribly, which you know. But I've said I'm sorry to him and he's forgiven me. So I'm saying sorry to you as well, because I know I've hurt you too. And I hope that you can forgive me."

  Alice reaches over and takes Quinn's hand. Paul has his arms folded over his chest. He's sitting back in his chair and his face is sour. Phillip is smiling, nodding. My mother regards my wife carefully.

  "Of course, dear," she says finally. "Family forgives each other."

  "But there's more," Quinn adds. "I'm not using this as an excuse for what I did - I know there isn't any excuse for that, but part of the reason why our marriage started to fall apart was Judd's inability to open up to me. And we all know where that's coming from."

  "What are you saying," Paul asks her. He leans in a little, his face pulled into a frown. Alice pulls back her hand.

  She looks around the table. "Just that I know when you all were growing up that everything about you was analysed and put into a book. I know that makes you guarded. I know it made Judd that way."

  "Are you blaming your infidelity on my mother?" Paul askes her, his face going red.

  "That's not what I'm saying."

  "Then what are you saying, dear?" my mother asks. She's calm, her voice steady, but her eyes are hard.

  Quinn has her hands up in defence. "I'm just saying that he had to keep things from you so they didn't get in the book and that carried on into our marriage. That's all. It just made things so unbearably hard." She looks at my mother. "But I forgive you."

  Paul swears at her. Phillip is laughing. Alice is starting to cry.

  "Hold on, Paul," I say, but he's not listening. He's leaning right over the table and pointing to her.

  "You come in here, eat food off my mother's table, and then accuse her of your own mistakes! You've got a lot of nerve lady. You might have Judd fooled, but I see you for what you are. You've stuck your tentacles into my brother as an easy ride with that baby. Is that really his, or have you been lying about that too?"

  I push my brother back so he hits the wall behind the table. "What the hell, Paul!" I yell.

  "You're a fool, Judd. She's making a fool out of you again."

  "Listen, all of you," I say forcefully. "Quinn is sorry. I've forgiven her. She's changed. I've changed. We're working our mess out. But we don't need you to accept us. In fact we don't need anything from you. You're going to have to deal with the fact that I've chosen Quinn and I'm going to stand by her. And I don't care if you don't."

  I put out a hand for Quinn to take. "We're leaving," I say, and we do.

  Quinn is both physically and emotionally drained when I get her back to our room. I'm proud of her for facing my family, and I'm a little ashamed of the way they treated her, but it was not wholely unexpected. I run her a bath and let her soak for a while as I watch television.

  Then my phone rings. It's Paul.

  "What?" I say sharply.

  "I'm an ass," he says.

  "Yes you are."

  "I should not have attacked Quinn like that. I'm sorry, man."

  "She's right, you know?"

  "I know. We're all the product of that damn book. None of us can communicate to save our lives."

  "Except for Phillip."

  "Are you nuts! He's the worst of us."

  "But for different reasons. We hold things in and he just blurts them out."

  "Yeah. So, it was true what she said, that you not being able to communicate your feelings wrecked your marriage?"

  "It wasn't the reason, but it sure didn't help."

  "Crap," he says.

  "Right?"

  "I'll have to give that some thought."

  "Might be a good idea."

  "Anyway, can you tell her? I'm sorry, I mean. If I can make it up to you..."

  "Well, now that you mention it."

  "What?"

  "I think this is the year I beat you at racquetball."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  "When?"

  "Tomorrow," I tell him. "Pick me up about ten?"

  "Sure. Get ready to be ground into the dust."

  Sunday

  The next morning we check out and I put our bags in the back of my car and meet her in the lobby. Grant and Mary would tell us that places in our story are special. This rather uninspiring setting is dear to us. This is where I learned that the baby Quinn is carrying, my baby, is a girl. This is where the smallest of loves was rekindled with that knowledge.

  "Are we ready?" she asks me. "We'd better get started if we're going to get back before lunch time."

  "Change of plans," I tell her, and she looks confused.

  "What plans?" she asks me.

  "I've booked you into the spa for a few hours," I say and she smiles. "Things have been tense this week. I want you to relax."


  "Really?"

  "Sure."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Don't worry about me. You just enjoy yourself. Have a treatment or two. I'll be back in two hours."

  Paul is smashing me down. He's always been better than me, and I know I have no hope of beating him. But that's not why I'm here.

  I imagine Wade's face - the Wade that I caught in my bed - is the ball. I hit that face with everything I can. The ball is propelled against the wall and springs back. Paul sends it to the wall again, with much greater finesse than I could ever hope for. I smash Wade again and he's screaming as he strikes the wall. I'm loving this, I'm imagining blood spatting in the wall, more and more until it is red and dripping. With each hit I'm getting stronger, I'm yelling by the end. Paul's getting worried.

  The point ends and I'm standing with my hands on my knees, panting heavily.

  "Take it easy," Paul advises.

  I stand up. "Serve up," I tell him, and we begin again.

  I'm remembering the lying, cheating Quinn, the one she left behind, and as I hit the ball I'm calling her all the names I can think of. We play on and now I'm finding I'm starting to say them. I'm get angry, and I like it. This has been bottled inside me for some time and it feels wonderful to allow it to escape. I'm angry at other things too - my inability to make love to my wife - my frustration at a time without sex. I'm screaming at family who don't understand, of friends who have deserted me, of a life lost never to be recovered. I'm throwing myself around the court, in front of Paul, behind him, slamming myself against the walls.

  Paul sends the ball to the back and I run around him, send the ball to the front. I step into the centre and wait. A second later there is a pain in the side of my head and the court tilts dangerously. My head bounces against the wooden floor, once, twice. Paul is in front of me, bending over. He's speaking to me but I can't hear him. All I can hear