Days of You and Me

by Tawdra Kandle

  Nate: No, we’re living at the shore. Carrie and Quinn’s house. Thanks. See you then.

  I rubbed the edge of the phone, my lips pressed together. A jumpy kind of dread licked at my gut as I debated over what to do. I had a feeling maybe I knew what Nate wanted, why he needed to talk to me. And no matter how much shit had gone down between us, no matter how fucking angry at him I was just now, there was one thing I knew for sure.

  I wasn’t ready to say good-bye.

  It was a typical August day at the Jersey shore, meaning the sun was hot and the air was humid. In the interest of expediency, I’d hopped a direct flight from Charlottesville to Atlantic City, rented a car and driven down to Ocean City, texting Nate that I was heading his way.

  I knew this route well, since my great-aunt had lived in Ventnor when I was growing up, and my family had frequently visited her before we drove down to spend time with the Russells at their shore rental, the same house Carrie now owned, and the same house where apparently Nate and Quinn were currently living.

  Nerves were jumping around my stomach at the thought that I might see Quinn today. The last few times we’d talked had not gone well; I’d let my anger get the best of me the day after she married Nate, and at the grocery store on the Fourth of July, I’d skirted out-and-out meanness when I’d let her think Sarah and I were together, as in dating. I’d seen the bleak hurt in her weary eyes, and instantly, I’d felt like the biggest asshole jerk in the world. Anyone could see Quinn was barely holding herself together. I couldn’t imagine what she was dealing with, and I’d gone and made it worse.

  Of course, then I’d gotten an earful from Sarah, who’d blasted me all the way back to my parents’ house.

  “I only agreed to come up here with you this weekend because I promised my mom I’d come home, and I thought a road trip with you might be fun. I did not come up to be used to make Quinn, my friend, jealous because you’re still sulking. If you pull that shit again, I swear I will never talk to you, the rest of our lives. We’re friends, Leo, and that’s all we’re ever going to be, because you are loopy in love with that girl back there, and I’m not ever going to play consolation prize again. Got it?”

  I’d apologized and groveled, and by the time I’d dropped Sarah back in Georgetown, she’d mostly forgiven me. She’d pointed at me as she’d gotten out of the car and instructed me to text Quinn and tell her I was sorry, too, but somehow I’d never gotten around to that, which was a big reason for why, as I approached the house, I was hoping not to see Quinn today.

  The driveway was empty, and I pulled in, climbed out of the car and walked slowly across the porch. The front door was open, so I knocked on the screen, peering inside as I called.

  “Hello? Anyone home?’

  “Come on in, Leo.”

  I almost didn’t recognize Nate’s voice, but as I stepped inside, catching the screen door so that it didn’t slam, I saw him lying on the sofa. His hips and legs were covered with a knit afghan, and several pillows were at his back. He was thinner than ever, if that was even possible.

  “Hey.” I stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. “Uh, did I wake you up?”

  “Nah.” Nate shook his head, but he looked exhausted as he blinked, and I wondered if he was having trouble sleeping. “Sit down, okay? So I don’t have to break my neck staring up at you.”

  I perched on the edge of the chair nearest the sofa. “This better?”

  He nodded. “Much, thanks.” His eyes darted around the room, as though he was looking for his next line. “Thanks for coming up, Leo. It means a lot.”

  “Sure.” I glanced around my shoulder. “Is, uh . . . is anyone else at home?”

  A faint smile played about his lips. “No. Quinn had a meeting in the city for work, and I convinced my mom to go with her. I’m okay by myself for short stretches, and my mother needed the break.” He hastened to add, “They both did.”

  “You’re living here now full-time? I thought you moved back to Eatonboro after the . . . last time I saw you.” I wasn’t going to mention the wedding if I could help it. I also wasn’t going to say anything about seeing Quinn at the grocery store on the Fourth of July, just in case she hadn’t told him.

  Nate looked pained. “We did move back. But it was hard on Quinn. It was my dad’s idea to come down here for a while, and it’s . . . good. This place is her home, sort of, and she’s comfortable. I don’t have to climb steps, and it works out well for everyone.”

  Bitterness corroded my throat. Quinn was turning herself inside out for Nate, for this sham of a marriage. At a time when her life should’ve been beginning, when she should have been starting her first real job, excited about the future . . . and yeah, goddammit, marrying me, living with me . . . instead she was playing nurse, wearing herself thin and watching her friend die.

  I clenched my jaw so hard it ached. “So what do you need, Nate? Why did you ask me to come up?”

  He frowned, staring out the window at the ocean. “I want to talk to you about Quinn, Leo. Specifically, about what’s going to happen when I’m not here anymore.”

  Annoyance flared in my chest. “Oh, you want my word that I won’t make any moves? You want Quinn to stay a widow for the rest of her life, with no other prospects for marriage and a family?”

  Nate sighed. “No, of course not. And I’m not asking for your word about anything. I just want to give you some advice.” He paused, his lips pursing as he searched for the right words.

  “I’m going to help you get Quinn back. This time forever.”

  That was about the last thing I expected to hear him say. I quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Really.” Nate shifted, adjusting his back with a wince that made me wonder if he needed a dose of his pain meds. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do when I die?”

  “God, Nate.” I scowled. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

  “The kind someone who doesn’t have time for bullshitting might ask. I don’t want to play games or beat around the bush, Leo. So tell me what happens for you when I’m dead?”

  An unexpected lump rose in my throat. “I’ll be . . . devastated, Nate. No matter what’s happened between us over the years, no matter how much I disagree with some of the stuff you’ve pulled, it doesn’t change the fact that you were my first best friend. We were the Trio. I’m going to miss you for the rest of my life.”

  Nate stared at me. “I had no idea you . . . cared that much. I figured everything that happened with Quinn would change things between you and me.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” I ran a hand through my hair. “Maybe it did change us. But it doesn’t mean that I want you to die. You’ve done some shit I hate. But I don’t hate you.”

  “Good to know.” He pinched the edge of the blanket together and rubbed it between two fingers. “But aside from that . . . what I meant was, how do you foresee things going down between you and Quinn?”

  This line of questioning was making me very uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

  Nate dropped his head back against the pillows as though I was exhausting him, and hell, maybe I was. But this was a damn uncomfortable conversation we were having right here.

  “Stop tiptoeing around my tender feelings, Leo, and answer me. Are you planning to propose to her at my funeral, or maybe wait a few weeks?”

  “Jesus Christ!” I jumped to my feet and stalked around the small living room. “No. What do you think of me, man? I’m not considering that. It hasn’t even crossed my mind. If you want me to be completely honest, I don’t have any clear idea of what the future holds for Quinn and me. Once I thought I did. Now . . .” I shrugged. “I can’t say. She made a decision that’s pretty much a deal-breaker for me. She made a choice. I’m not going to sit around and wait until the repercussions of that choice are—” I searched for a word that wouldn’t sound cruel. “No longer an issue.”

  “So you’re saying that you don’t have feelings for Q
uinn anymore? You don’t love her?”

  Dropping down into the chair again, I ran one hand over my face. “Of course I love her. I’m going to love Quinn until I die. She’s always going to be the one for me, I know that. But it’s starting to feel like we’re never going to be on the same page. Our timing’s always off.”

  “Maybe.” He nodded. “Still, you came in here just now, proverbial guns blazing, to blast me if I was going to warn you away from her when I was gone. Doesn’t sound to me like you’re writing her off completely.”

  I flicked a glance at him. “Of course I haven’t. This is Quinn and me. But I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do here. She didn’t ask me to wait for her. And even if she did, wouldn’t that be a little awkward? Me, hanging out on the sidelines, waiting for the first-string tight end to get hurt so I could run onto the field?”

  “It always comes back to football with you, doesn’t it?” Nate shook his head. “But it’s not a bad analogy. Isn’t that what you do? Wait for your chance to be called into the game? This situation isn’t so different. What I’m suggesting, though, is that you don’t, uh, immediately try to grab the football and make a run for the end zone.”

  “Uh huh.” I nodded slowly. “Can you maybe be just a little more specific and a little less derogatory to the girl we both love? Quinn would hate being compared to a football.”

  “You’re not wrong.” Nate grimaced. “Okay. Plain talk. No matter how you think you’re going to feel after I’m gone, once it happens, both you and Quinn will be tempted to dive back into a relationship. Or something. I’m going to advise you against that.”

  “Yeah, I just bet you are.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.

  “Leo, come on. I don’t have an ax to grind here. Dead, remember?” He hooked a thumb at his own chest. “I’m not an idiot. I know that once I’m off-planet, I have zero influence and zero expectations. I’m not going to know. Maybe I won’t even care. But right now, I do. I care about Quinn and her future.”

  “And you think I don’t?”

  Nate’s mouth pressed into a firm line. “Of course you do, but you’re too close to the whole thing to see it clearly.”

  “But you’re not.” Yeah, I was skeptical.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve had a front-row center life-long season ticket to the Quinn-and-Leo show. No one’s more of an expert on you two than me. And I’m telling you, if you go after her right away and end up together again . . . it might work. It might last, but the chances aren’t good, because neither of you have dealt with what always tears you apart.”

  “But you know what that is, and you’re going to tell me how to deal with it?”

  Nate remained unflappable. “Yes, as a matter of fact I think I can.” Bracing both hands on either side of his body, he pushed to sit up a little. I could see the effort cost him, as sweat broke out on his upper lip. But he ignored it and pushed on.

  “See, there’re two things, Leo. The first one really isn’t your fault, but you still have the power to change it.” He fiddled with a string on the edge of the blanket. “Quinn has never had a chance to know who she is without you or me. Think about it. Even when we were born, it was me first, then you, and then Quinn. We’ve been with her as long as she can remember. When I’m gone, she’ll have the opportunity to find out who she really is . . . if you let her do that.”

  “You mean she can find herself?” The air quotes were implied by my sarcasm.

  Nate ignored my mocking tone. “Yes, I guess that’s kind of what I mean. She needs to learn to live without depending on us for defining herself through being our friend. Or your girlfriend.”

  As much as I wanted to disagree, Nate had a point. I hated that.

  “It should have happened right after high school graduation. But then her dad died. And right after that, the two of you got back together again. She went from being Quinn in high school to being the girlfriend of that college football player. And then even after the two of you broke up during college, she never really took the chance to be on her own. I think part of her was always waiting for you.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but I noticed one thing. “What about you? You swooped in and started dating her right after we broke up. And then you fucking married her.”

  Nate had the grace to look a little guilty. “Yeah, I know. In my defense, I knew my time was short. If I hadn’t made my move then, it never would have happened.” He paused. “And marrying her . . . I know you don’t understand that.”

  “You’re right. I don’t.” If he wanted brutal honesty, I was going to give it to him.

  He sighed. “It’s not easy to explain without sounding selfish or petty. You and Quinn . . . there’s always been something between you, for as long as I can remember. She was drawn to you, even when it seemed like she chose me. I was always jealous of that. When we were kids, and I’d end up in the hospital for weeks, my mom would think she was cheering me up by telling me what you two were doing. But it made me angry that I couldn’t be part of that.” Nate leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Then we got older, and even though I realized I loved her before you knew the same thing about yourself, she was in love with you first. She dated you first.” His eyes opened and he shot a pointed look at me. “You were her first . . . everything. I guess, if I’m being honest, I wanted this one first to be mine. I married her. I’m always going to have that, even when I’m not here anymore.”

  I’d never wanted to hit a dying man in my life, but I was coming close now. “I think we need to get back to the topic at hand, Nate. We’re never going to agree on this point.”

  He nodded. “Okay. So I think Quinn needs to figure out who she is without you or me. You’re the only one who can give her that time and space.”

  Something like panic bubbled inside me. “You want me to abandon her after you die? Ignore her?” That sounded unbelievably cruel, to push Quinn away when she’d need me the most.

  “No. That’s just it. I want you to be there for her, support her, encourage her—but be her friend, not her boyfriend. You remember how to do that, right?”

  I didn’t miss the subtle jab. “Yes, I can do that.” I hesitated, considering. “I don’t want to admit it, Nate, but I think you might be right. Okay, I’ll keep it in mind. What’s your second piece of advice? I mean, while you’re on a roll here.”

  “This one you’re really not going to like.” One side of his mouth tipped up to a smile.

  “Have a feeling you’re probably right. Also have a feeling you don’t give a crap.” I leaned back. “Lay it on me anyway.”

  “It’s pretty simple, actually. Football. You need to make a choice, Leo. And this time, it’s got to be the right one.”

  A nerve jumped in my cheek. “You think I haven’t done that? God, Nate. How many times have I told Quinn that she comes first? How many times have I said I’d give up football in a minute if it meant making her happy? Remember the summer before college, right after Bill died? I told Quinn that I’d give up Carolina so I could stay with her. I offered to go to Birch. And then this spring, at Matt’s funeral . . . I told her I’d give it all up for her. She knows it’s all for her, everything I do.”

  “Does she?” Nate spoke without moving his head. His gaze stayed fastened on my face. “You’ve made the offers. You’d said the words. But what have you actually done? When did you ever act on the offer?”

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Quinn never wanted me to. She refused.”

  “Because she’s not stupid, and like it or not, Leo, she knows you better than you know yourself. She knows what football means to you, and she’d never be the one to take it away from you. Quinn realizes that no matter what you’d managed to convince yourself is true, football is more than a means to an end. It’s your life. It’s what you’ve always been able to depend on, no matter what.”

  “I—” Denial sprang to my lips, but the words got stuck somewhere in my throat. I swallowed hard. “I don’
t love football more than I love Quinn.”

  “No,” Nate agreed. “I don’t think you do. But you trust football more than you trust Quinn. As much as you love her, you’ve always felt like you weren’t good enough for her. You were waiting for her to decide you weren’t worth the trouble. And then when all the publicity went crazy and she had to step away from you, it was as if she was fulfilling your deepest fear.”

  I knew he was right, and it was pissing me off. “I must’ve missed the part when you got your doctorate in counseling and therapy, Nate.”

  He lifted one shoulder. “When you spend a lot of your life on the edges of life, you become a good observer. And that’s all I’m doing. You’re welcome to tell me I’m full of shit. You don’t have to listen to me. I don’t have any way to force you into anything. But whether or not you believe me, I really want you and Quinn to make it. Don’t feel like you have to argue with me now. Just . . . think about it, okay?”

  I wanted to argue. I wanted to walk out of the house without a single word. I wanted to forget everything Nate had said this afternoon, wipe it from my mind like letters in the sand when the tide came up. But the hell of it was, part of me, deep down inside, knew he was right.

  So instead of leaving, I stood up slowly and paced to the patio doors, resting my hands on the edge and staring out to the beach. “What do I . . . do? How do I make Quinn know that she comes first? I could quit playing, but I’m not sure that’s the best answer. If she feels guilty about making me give it up, that can’t help us, right? Somehow we’ve got to be on the same page.”

  Nate smiled, and for the first time since I’d come into the house, I felt like we were on the same side.

  “Now I think you’re onto something. You’re right. Just walking away from football isn’t going to solve anything. As a matter of fact, I think you’re right. If you quit the game, you’d be miserable, and that wouldn’t help either of you. If she gets some time and space, I’m pretty sure she’ll be able to understand that giving up football isn’t going to solve your problems, not in the long run. The point is that Quinn needs to know that she is everything to you, that there’s nothing you would put before her. You have to make her realize that you would lay down everything and anything to make her happy, to win her. She has to know that you won’t let anything come between you two again. She needs you to prove it, in a big way. And before you ask me, no, I don’t know what that is. And maybe you won’t know, either, until it’s time.”