Days of You and Me

by Tawdra Kandle

  “And if you need anything at all, you call me. Text me whenever. Phone me day or night. I’m around, and nothing comes before you. Got it?”

  “Yup.” With no little effort, she stepped away, pasting on a smile. “I’ll be fine. Have a safe trip back, Leo. Be well.”

  With one last glance back, I followed Tucker out into the frigid late-afternoon gloom, feeling as though I’d torn out a piece of my heart and left it standing in the front hallway of my parents’ house.

  “As God is my witness, I’m never going to drink again.” I cradled my aching head in my hands, resting my elbows on the kitchen table.

  “Hmmm.” My mother pushed a mug of steaming coffee toward me. “I think I’ve heard that before.” She smirked. “I think I’ve said that before, come to think of it. What was it that pushed you over the edge?”

  “Tequila shots. Tucker’s idea. I hate that guy.”

  “No, you don’t.” Mom’s voice was mild. “Eli’s a lovely young man, especially given what he’s been through. He doesn’t seem bitter at all. And if I were him, honestly, the last person I’d want to hang out with would be you.”

  “Gee, thanks, Mom. You know how to make a guy feel loved.” I winced a little at the sound of my own voice and reached for the coffee.

  “No, you know what I mean. You’re living Eli’s dream. Playing pro ball and all that. The fact that he doesn’t seem to resent you is pretty amazing.” She sipped her own mug. “Do I even want to know how you got home? I know you didn’t drive in this condition, but I see your rental car in the driveway.”

  “I called Tate. I was pretty sure he was around, and he was. He’s still living with his grandfather, believe it or not, and he took a cab over to the bar where we were and drove my car to drop off Tuck and then bring me home. He’s sleeping in my bed upstairs, which is why I was on the sofa. I figured it was the least I could do.” I flashed my mom my most winning smile, or a reasonable facsimile of it. “It would be awesome if you could fix him a nice breakfast when he comes down, and maybe drop him at his house? I told him I’d take him home on the way to the airport, but I don’t want to wake him up if I don’t have to.”

  My mother heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Of course I will. Tate’s a good boy.” She looked at me meaningfully, maybe insinuating that not all of us were quite as good. And she might have had a point: I sometimes thought that Tate was a little too Boy Scout to be true. I’d known him since just before we’d started college together down at Carolina, and he’d become a close friend.

  “Thanks, Mom. You’re a peach.” I tried some more coffee. It felt like it was going to stay down.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She traced one finger around the handle of her cup. “Listen, Leo. I want to talk to you about something before you go back to Richmond.”

  “Hmmm?” I had no idea what this ‘talk’ was going to entail, but it didn’t sound like something I wanted to do when I was hungover and barely awake.

  “About Quinn. About . . . what you’re planning to do about Quinn.”

  Awesome. This was definitely not the discussion I wanted to have with my mother, and most assuredly not now. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not planning to do anything about Quinn.”

  “You know what I mean, son. Cut the bullshit.” My mother hadn’t raised three snarky, headstrong sons by being a wimp. Sometimes I forgot how tough she could be. “You’ve been panting after that girl since you were in junior high. You’ve gotten together twice, and neither time did it end well. I see how you look at her, still. I know it nearly killed you to see her marry Nate. Well, now he’s out of the picture, in a permanent way. And I can see in your eyes that you want her.”

  I swallowed. “Yeah, well . . . we can’t always get what we want. Remember that Rolling Stones song you used to play all the time when Simon, Danny and I were little? It stuck. I get it.”

  “Maybe it did, and maybe it didn’t. Leo, honey, you know I love Quinn. She’s like a daughter to me, just as Nate was like another son. I think you’re never happier, either of you, than when you’re together. You both light up the world. But . . .” She hesitated. “I want you to think carefully before you jump into anything. Quinn’s been through a lot. She needs some time, and I’m afraid if you swoop in on her now, you’ll both end up hurt. I don’t want to see that.”

  “I know.” I rubbed my jaw. “Why do you think I’m leaving for Richmond this morning? I knew if I stayed up here any longer, I’d be . . . tempted. And I promised Nate . . .” My voice trailed off. I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was telling my mother about that conversation.

  “What did you promise Nate?” She was cupping her hands over the mug, absorbing the warmth.

  I took a deep breath. “Nate said that if I wanted to give Quinn and me a fighting chance of sticking this time, I need to give her a little time to find herself. He said she’s always lived in relation to him and to me, and she has to have the space to see who she is on her own.”

  “Huh.” Mom nodded. “That boy was even smarter than I gave him credit for. Damn. That was pretty much what I was going to say.” She smiled a little, her eyes misty. “Okay, then. You’re going to listen to both your late best friend and your mother, right? Give her some room. No rushing into anything.”

  “Yeah.” I pushed the coffee away. The smell was suddenly making me queasy. “But it’s not easy, Mom. Quinn . . . the way she looked at me yesterday, I can tell she’s wondering what comes next for us. How do I keep that balance between being her friend and not letting it go any further? And when is enough time? I mean, is it something I can put on the calendar? Like, if I can make it six months without us hooking up, that’s long enough and I can go for it? Or longer than that? Because I’ll tell you—right now, this feels wrong. It feels like I should be staying as close as possible to her, making sure she’s all right. Making sure she’s not alone or hurting or sad.”

  “You want to protect her, and I love that about you, honey. But you can’t. Remember the summer after Bill died? You asked me what you could do to make Quinn feel better after she’d lost her dad. And I told you that you had to let her go through it.” She lifted one shoulder. “This is not that different. Quinn has got to move through it and know that she is capable of standing on her own two feet. She’s got to realize that she’s strong, and tougher than she thinks she is. If you try to rescue her, she’ll never have that confidence. I have to agree with Nate. You and Quinn burn bright, but you’ve never yet burned long. I don’t want to see you hurt again, either of you. This time, it’s got to stick, or that’s it. And your best chance of that happening is letting Quinn discover her own strong core.”

  “Easy for you,” I grumbled. “You’re not the one who feels like his heart is being torn in two. And you’re not the one who’s got to wait, again. God, I’m fucking sick of sitting around, waiting for my life to start.”

  Mom didn’t ding me for language, and I figured it was mostly because we were alone and because she understood that I was speaking out of pain. Reaching over to me, she covered my hand where it rested on the table.

  “Your life is going pretty well so far, Leo. You’re playing a game you’re passionate about, and that’s something most of the world’s population can only dream about. You like your life down in Richmond. You’re not exactly in limbo, son.”

  “When you look at it from a professional point of view, you’re right, of course. I love what I do. I know I’m damn lucky. But none of that means shit without Quinn. She’s why I do everything, Mom. She’s the reason for it all. If I can’t have her, I might as well give it all up.” I curled my fingers into a tight fist. “And I’m tired of being patient. Tired of biding my time.”

  My mother studied me in silence for a few minutes. “I know, baby. I know. But . . . be patient just a little while longer. I have a strong feeling that in the end, it’s all going to be worth it. Trust me.”

  Full of Grace by Sarah McLachlan

  “Honey, do you have a minute?”
My mother spoke at the same time as she rapped softly on my half-open door, her anxious eyes seeking me.

  I rolled over on my bed, fighting the temptation to answer her sarcastically. Sure, I have a minute, as long as it doesn’t interrupt my rigorous napping schedule. Over the past two weeks, since I’d moved back home, napping made up the majority of my days. I slept late, went to bed early, and in between those two brackets, I drifted off into oblivion as often as I could.

  My mom made me leave the house every now and again, taking me out to lunch or dinner or even just to the grocery store. I could see the worry on her face whenever she looked at me, and I hated that I put it there. But I couldn’t seem to force myself to do anything to alleviate it.

  Mark and Sheri had left town almost right after Nate’s funeral. On the advice of several grief counselors and friends, they had taken an extended trip to Hawaii.

  “We need to get away from it all.” Sheri had looked a little guilty as she’d tried to explain it to me. “We need some time to mourn Nate, and we need to see what the rest of our lives are going to look like.” She’d sighed, rubbing her forehead. “For over twenty years, we’ve defined ourselves as the parents of a medically-fragile child. Now that we’re not that anymore, Mark and I want to make sure we don’t drift apart. We want to be intentional about moving forward.”

  I’d hugged her and told her that the trip was a wonderful idea, even while I resented them both for being able to escape their sorrow. It wasn’t true, of course; the grief over losing Nate would go along with them, but at least they wouldn’t have to be in the same town, with people who stared at them or avoided them altogether.

  My mother was watching me, a frown on her face as she stood in the doorway. I wondered if this was another attempt to make me leave the house, another idea in the bring-Quinn-back-to-life campaign.

  “Sure.” I answered her question finally. “For you, I have all the minutes in the world.”

  Smiling a little, she came in to sit on the end of my bed. “Honey, I wanted to talk to you about something. I’ve been putting it off, hoping there’d be a good time, but . . .” She shrugged, glancing around the room. “It doesn’t seem like there will be.”

  “What’s up?” I sat up slowly, hugging my knees to my chest and wrapping the quilt around my back. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, sure. I just . . .” She fidgeted a little, playing with a thread from my blanket. “I don’t know really how to say this except to come right out.” She took a deep breath. “Last summer, after you and Nate, um, got married, I kind of met someone.”

  “You met someone?” The words didn’t make sense to me. They didn’t compute.

  “Yes. Or . . . it was more like, I started seeing someone.” She swallowed. “His name is Shane. I’ve known him for years. He owns the dry cleaners.”

  “The dry cleaners.” I’d been reduced to repeating what she’d said.

  “His wife died of cancer about eight years ago. Your dad knew him—I remember we used to talk about how sad it was and how amazing Shane was with her. He took care of her.” Mom’s lips pressed together. “Anyway, I went in there right after you moved in with Mark and Sheri, and Shane and I got talking . . . at first it was just eating together, dinner now and then. And then, I guess . . . I don’t know. It was, um, more.”

  “More.” Yeah, that was about all I could say at this point.

  “The thing is, I know it’s sudden. Or it seems like it is, to you. But this whole time that you’ve been living down at the shore, I’ve been getting to know Shane better. And, uh . . .” Her cheeks pinked a little. “I just wanted to know if you’ve been thinking about what you want to do. You know, when you’re going back to work and—”

  “When I’m going to move out of the house and give you back your privacy?” I recovered the power of speech, and it came complete with a bitter tone.

  “No, of course not.” My mother’s eyes flashed, reproving and shocked. “Quinn, you know I only want what’s best for you. I understand the last few years have been rough, and losing Nate . . . I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now. But sweetie, you’re not dead. I’m not trying to be cruel, but you’re alive, and you’re young.”

  “I know I am. I’m just . . . I’m not giving up on life, Mom. I’m just taking a little time to recover from a very stressful six months. I don’t think that’s unreasonable. I’m sorry if I’m not moving along on the timeline that works for you.”

  “Quinn, my God. You know that’s not what I mean.” She had the good grace to sound at little guilty at least. “But I wouldn’t be a very good mother if I let you wallow forever.”

  “But if it wasn’t for Shane the dry cleaner, would you be so quick to push me along?” I crossed my arms over my chest. I could hear my own voice, and I knew I was being childish. But I didn’t have the emotional reserves right now to deal with this. I wasn’t ready to be mature and understanding. For God’s sake, I only wanted one thing to stay the same, just for a little while. Was that asking too much?

  “Maybe not. Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up now. But the truth is that I’m ready to make some decisions, Quinn, and you’re going to be affected by them.”

  “Are you getting married again?” I ground out the words.

  My mom shook her head. “We haven’t made any plans to do that. But both Shane and I are sensitive to the fact that life is short, and we don’t want to waste any time. If we didn’t know that before, we’ve learned the lesson from Shane’s wife, your dad and Nate.” She paused for a beat. “Shane’s son is taking over the dry cleaners, and Shane’s going to retire. We want to travel, Quinn. I have freedom with my job, and even if I cut back a little on my work hours, I’ll be fine financially.” She raised her eyes to mine. “I’m going to sell the house.”

  I’d known it was coming. Deep down, I’d been waiting for my mother to tell me this for a long time, even before this Shane guy had come onto the scene. The house was big, and I hadn’t lived here for years. Even over summers in college, I’d ended up either down at the shore . . . or with Leo, during those bittersweet months we’d lived together down in Carolina. It had been four years since this had really been my home. Still . . . I wasn’t ready to give it up.

  “And just where am I supposed to go?” I hated the shrill note I heard in my words.

  Mom raised one eyebrow. “That’s what I came in here to talk to you about. Quinn, you’re an adult. You’re nearly twenty-three. You’re a college graduate. You’ve been married. You can’t hide out here forever. You have options, lots of them. There’s Zelda or Gia—I know both of them would love to have you as a roommate. Or get your own place.”

  I bit the side of my lip. “What about the house at the shore?”

  “I’m keeping that, for us.” She ventured one hand to touch my arm. “I thought we could go through the furniture and stuff here, decide what we want to keep and what we want to sell, and then move whatever we want to keep down to the shore house. And anything you want to take with you, of course you can.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I couldn’t help bringing this up. “What if you sell the house and go off with this guy, and it turns out he’s only interested in your money? I mean, it’s not like you know him that well.”

  If I’d expected to fluster her, I’d have been disappointed. “You’re not completely wrong, Quinn, but you’re not completely right, either. I’m not a stupid woman. I have my eyes wide open. I’ve been consulting with Joe Taylor about all of this, so he can keep an unbiased eye on my money and let me know if anything looks off. I’m not handing everything over to Shane; we’re going into this fifty/fifty, each of us paying our own way.” She laughed a little. “Believe me, sweetie, Shane’s kids are just as suspicious about me. We’re keeping things separate.”

  “I can’t believe you’re running off with the dry cleaner. Shacking up with him.” Judgmental? Yep, just a tad.

  “Quinn.” My mother was running out of patience. �
��I expect you to extend to me the same courtesy I have to you all these years, when Leo spent the nights in your bedroom. When you lived with him for an entire summer.” She ran the tip of her tongue over her top lip. “I think you know how much I loved your father. He was the love of my life. I don’t ever expect to find that again. What I have with Shane is companionship and fun. It’s probably as much as I can expect at this point in my life. I’ve been lonely, Quinn. So damned lonely. I’m ready to live again. And you should, too.”

  I sniffed. “You don’t have to be lonely. You have me. You have Sheri and Lisa.”

  “All very true, but Sheri and Lisa both have husbands. They’re not going to take off and travel with me. And you, my darling, wouldn’t want to be tied down to your mother forever. Right now, I’m safe and comfortable, but pretty soon, you’re going to be itching to get moving again. That’s how it’s supposed to be.” She stood up and patted my leg. “There’s no rush for you to go anywhere. I don’t have a deadline for putting the house on the market. But I wanted you to know my plans, so you could start considering yours.”

  I gripped the edges of my quilt so tightly that my fingers began to throb. Some of the numbness had given way to a solid mad, and that was quickly changing into panic.

  I had no idea what I wanted to do now. The thought of moving in with Zelda . . . it felt wrong. I didn’t want to be around her easy success, and although I wasn’t quite clear on the situation between Zelda and Tuck, I had a sense that they needed privacy. Gia was right when she said she didn’t have room for me, and the two of us living together, depressed and struggling as we were . . . it didn’t sound like a winning combination.

  Even work didn’t feel appealing to me anymore. I’d taken the gig at the online magazine because it gave me flexibility when I needed it, and it was true that my editor, Dawn, had been kind to me and understanding about my situation. But the thought of continuing to do that indefinitely made me feel like I might be drowning.