I pulled into the parking lot of TALD at exactly 8:50 Am. I wanted to arrive at least fifteen minutes early, but ten would have to do. I was greeted at a small window just inside the doors by a thick, polite looking woman in a floral dress that hit her just below the knees. I recognized her from the picture on the website, and by her voice on our phone call; it was Anne Marie. She escorted me back to an office, where Bill was sitting at a large, oak desk. He stood to shake my hand and then gestured for me to sit in the chair across from his desk.
“So, Quinn, tell me about yourself…”
May 10, 2012
“Graduation day!” Lana screamed, when she entered my crappy apartment. She was holding her cap in one hand and two royal blue gowns, covered in plastic, were draped over the other. “I hope the Dry Cleaners were able to get all of those wrinkles out,” she whined, examining the fabric beneath the plastic.
“Everyone’s gowns will be wrinkled,” I told her. “I worked in the bookstore where they sell them, remember? They are shoved in a back closet all year, until May, when people start renting and buying them. I told you, you didn’t have to get them dry cleaned.”
“Well I was not going to have us walking across that stage looking like a pair of bums when it only cost three dollars to get them wrinkle-free,” she protested. “Here,” she said, jutting the gowns out towards me, “hang them up somewhere until we are ready to put them on. When’s your family getting here?”
I hung the gowns in my closet and then retreated back to my tiny, crappy bathroom to continue getting ready. “Umm, they should be here any minute. They are probably waiting on Marin. She takes forever to go anywhere now that she’s towing Kaymyn around with her.” Just as the last word slipped from my lips, I heard a loud bustle at my front door.
“Knock knock! Is everyone decent?” I heard my dad shout from the foyer.
“It’s just me and Lana, Dad, and yes, we’re both dressed. Come on in,” I shouted back to him from down the hall.
I could hear Kaymyn’s small giggles filtering in from the living room. She was just starting to walk; therefore, Marin had to follow her every move to make sure she didn’t fall or get into something that she shouldn’t. She was in that stage where she picked everything up from the ground and immediately placed it in her mouth. Marin always seemed exhausted from chasing her around.
My hair was curled with an actual curling iron, and I was just putting the final touches of my make-up on when my mom stuck her head in the bathroom. “Oh, Sweetie, you look beautiful. I think I’m going to cry,” she said through exaggerated sniffles.
“It’s just graduation, Mom. It’s not like I’m getting married.”
“You better not be. You’re too young, too smart and have too much potential to go and do something like that,” she teased.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Marin asked defensively, walking up behind my mom and pushing past her to stand next to me in the mirror. “I got married at Quinn’s age. Are you saying I didn’t have potential for greater things? That I wasn’t too smart for marriage?”
“Oh, you know that’s not what I meant, Honey. You and Quinn are two very different flowers picked from the same garden. You were not built to live the same lives.”
Marin and I looked at each other’s reflections, puzzled by Mom’s words. Now what’s that supposed to mean? I thought to myself. We both just shrugged our shoulders and smiled back at our mother. She was always saying things that we didn’t quite understand.
“Hey! I wanna be in on this party,” June squealed, squeezing herself between Marin and I. Looking at the three of our reflections, I couldn’t help but notice how much we had grown to look alike the older we got. As children, I never really thought so, but now that we had grown into our features, I could see bits of myself in each of them. In their personalities as well. I was free-spirited and a little bit wild like June, but I was also grounded and extremely family-oriented like Marin. I liked to think that I had the best of both of them in me.
“So, Quinn,” Mom started, “have you heard back from that Mr. Felder yet about the job?”
“No, not yet,” I frowned. It’s only been five days though, and he said I should hear something in about a week. I promise, you’ll be the first to know,” I assured her.
I could hear some sort of game on in the living room, baseball maybe. Dad and Marin’s husband, Bennett, must have already plopped down on the couch and made themselves comfortable. “There’s beer in the fridge if you guys want one,” I shouted towards the living room.
“Already on it, thanks,” Bennett replied, just before I heard the cracking of the tabs on two cans of Miller Lite. It wasn’t Dad’s beer of choice, but it would have to do.
The girls and I began laughing and chatting again, when I heard the sound of another cracking tab. “Damn, is it just me, or did Dad or Bennett just finish their beer in like thirty seconds?” I asked as Lana came pouncing into the bathroom.
“Nope. Neither!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “Your man just arrived!”
A smile lit up my face as I squeezed past my sisters and mom to meet Him in the hall. “You made it! I’m so glad you’re here,” I greeted Him as I threw my arms around His shoulders. “But I’m sad that I won’t get to see you walk across the stage this week,” I said with an embellished frown.
“I’m still graduating, Sweetheart. I just don’t want to walk the stage until it’s to receive my Graduate’s Degree. You’ll get to watch me in a couple of years,” He smiled before planting a sweet kiss on my pouty lip. A couple of years.
May 11, 2012
“I can’t believe we graduated,” I told, Lana as she helped me pack my entire crappy apartment into crappy cardboard boxes. “I know it’s cliché to say this, but I’m really going to miss this place. And you.” As I said it, tears began to well behind my eyes. Lana was also planning on attending graduate school, but she was staying there to do it. I almost envied her for it. There was so much that I was going to miss about my little college town, and too many emotions and memories to deal with all at once.
“I’m going to miss you too, Girl,” she said, climbing onto my bed to wrap me in her tiny frame for a hug. Tears also began to stream down her cheeks, but she quickly brushed them away with the pads of her fingertips. “You’re going to make me ruin my make-up. We can cry about this later, for now, let’s just put on the jams, and get this crappy place packed up!”
“Hey!” I said, tossing a throw pillow at her. “That’s only ok when I say it,” I joked.
Thirty minutes into our jam session/packing, I felt my phone buzz in the back pocket of my jean shorts. “Turn it down! Turn it down!” I shouted at Lana over the music. “It’s a Houston number and might be someone calling about the job.” Lana ran over to the speakers on my desk and quickly turned the knob all the way down until the room was completely silent, save for the ringing of my cell phone. Nervously, I punched the Answer button with my finger. “Hello.”
“May I speak with Quinn Borders please?” a man asked on the other end of the line. It was Bill Felder; I recognized his voice and accent.
“This is Quinn speaking,” I replied. My voice was shaking, along with the hand holding the phone up to my ear. Lana sat cross-legged in front of me on my bed, eagerly anticipating my recall of the conversation.
“Good afternoon, Quinn. I wanted to call and officially offer you the Creative Writing position here at The Academy of Learning and Discovery. That is, if you still want to join the family,” he added, with his sweet Southern charm.
I was stunned silent. Lana was giving me a funny look as I sat there with my eyes wide and a crooked grin on my lips. “What’s happening,” she mouthed. Her silent words shook me back to Earth.
“Yes! Yes, Sir. I would love to join the family!” I finally replied.
“Well great! We are honored to have you, then, Ms. Borders. You’ll have to get some training in, starting at the end of July and then school starts up the third wee
k of August. We prefer if you don’t start coming in to decorate and organize your classroom until the first week in August, though, because summer school is being taught in there as of next week. Does that all sound good to you?” he asked.
“That all sounds wonderful!” I told him. “Thank you so much, Mr. Felder.”
“You are very welcome. Oh and, Quinn…call me Bill, we’re family now.”
June 2, 2012
I hugged my mom and dad for what felt like an eternity, before pulling out of their driveway, Him following close behind with a U-Haul full of our things. Combined, we had one queen-sized bed, a full-length sofa, a love seat, one recliner and bags and boxes full of clothes and a few decorative pieces. It wasn’t much, but neither was the new apartment. Our apartment.
Tears were still rolling down my cheeks by the time we hit the red light at the end of my parent’s long country road. It wasn’t just them that I was going to miss. I was going to miss it all. College, Dr. Lasser, my crappy apartment, my friends, Marin, Bennett and Kaymyn. I couldn’t bear to think about it all. My body shook as the silent sobs continued to pass through my chest. I knew I was only going to be a few hours from my family, but I would be a lifetime away from all of the memories: parties at The Neighbors, “study sessions” at Big Joe’s Burgers, Tristan and Rachel, The Conquests…and Judd. Until that point, I hadn’t allowed myself to think about him since that day in my car on the way to my interview. I tucked the Dolly Parton tape back down into the console and buried it beneath a pile of mindless objects. Somehow, moving made it seem as if that was a chapter in my life that I would never again be able to revisit. Did I ever really think that I could?
I did the one thing that I ever knew to do in moments like these: I called Him.
“Is something wrong, do we need to stop for gas?” He asked on the second ring.
I looked in my rearview mirror and I could see His face, hidden partially behind His baseball cap and sunglasses, through the windshield of His Chevy. He waved when He noticed that I was watching Him, and then I watched as His brows furrowed and a frown formed on His lips. “Are you still crying? It’s going to be okay, Sweetheart,” He consoled. “You’ll see your parents again. We’re moving to Brookshire, not China.”
“I know. I’m just being overly sensitive today for some reason. I’ve moved away before, but this just feels so…so permanent. Aren’t you even a little sad to be moving so far from your dad and brothers?” His mom left His dad with three boys under the age of ten for a guy she met at church of all places. Last they heard, she moved to Colorado, but that was over two years ago. He was close with His dad and brothers, and I knew He had to feel at least a little sad about the move.
“Yeah, I guess I am a little sad, but they’re grown men, they’ll be okay. Right now, I just feel excited. I’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like an eternity. I knew the moment Mary introduced us, freshman year of high school, that we were meant to be so much more than just friends. I could feel it. And now I’m on my way to Our Home. Our Home,” He said again. “Aren’t you excited?”
I was feeling a roller coaster of emotions, and I was sure excited had to be one of them. “Yeah, Babe, I’m excited,” I said with gathered enthusiasm.
Four hours later, we pulled into the Crestwood Hills apartment complex and began unloading our lives into seven hundred and fifty square feet of shared space. It was small, not as small as my crappy apartment, but it would be crowded with the two of us living there. At the cost per month for rent, you’d think we were getting at least two bedrooms, but that wasn’t the case. By midnight we had everything unloaded and the closets crammed full of our things. I left several of the boxes full, worn out from the day, and unwilling to unpack any further.
It took a couple of weeks, but we finally got everything unpacked, hung up and put away in our new apartment. Our Apartment. It didn’t feel like home yet, but then again, I wasn’t sure if it ever would. I grew to love my crappy apartment in college, and even that never really felt like home. Not like it did at my parent’s house anyways. It was nice; however, having Him there every night when I went to sleep, and every morning when I woke up. I felt safe and secure with His arms wrapped tightly around me, and my body fit perfectly in the curve of his….In the beginning.
August 27, 2012
I stood at the front of the small room, behind an old wooden podium, and let my eyes roam over every shiny, new surface. Well, new to me at least. First, at the walls covered in colorful inspirational posters about success, learning and writing, and then at the door with big red letters displaying my name, Ms. Borders, and lastly at the twenty-five empty desks in front of me. In less than thirty minutes, eager teenagers would be arriving to fill those desks, in the hopes of getting in touch with their inner-writer. Their inner-selves.
Creative Writing was an elective at TALD, and Mr. Felder, Bill, had informed me that most of the students that chose to take my course were choosing it because they actually wanted to. Of course, there would be the few that took it because it was either that or another semester of Athletics, and some students just weren’t cut out for Coach Arnold’s rigorous training. He was an ex-Marine, but there was nothing “ex” about it. He kept his hair buzzed close to his scalp, he wore sturdy boots even when it was a hundred degrees outside, and you could hear his voice all the way from the other end of my small private school. The students were afraid of him, but also really respected and admired how dedicated he was to protecting and serving our country.
I was ready. Somehow, the nerves were released from my body with one, last, deep breath at the sound of the bell for first period.
“Good morning, everyone! I am Ms. Borders, and I will be your guide in deep, creative thinking this year!”
My first day as a real teacher couldn’t have gone better. I was exhausted, yet, at the same time, invigorated at the thought of doing something that I love every day. My students seemed interested enough in what I had to say, and they seemed to actually want to participate in the first assignment. After the expected groans and a bit of whining that I received when I assigned homework for the evening, most of them began journaling with the few extra minutes that they had at the end of class. I simply wanted them to write down their expectations for the 2012- 2013 school year. They were free to discuss whatever they wished: academics, friendships, social activities, sports…anything.
As soon as I pushed open the door to Our Apartment at a little after five PM, the cold breeze from the air conditioning and the fluffy cushions of Our Sofa were much too inviting. I poured a glass of wine, propped me feet up on the coffee table and waited patiently for Him to get home from His internship so that I could fill Him in on my successful first day as a teacher.
His work with Harper and Hays began a few weeks before the start of my school year, and I loved seeing the excitement that He got from doing something that He also loved. I listened to His stories about “The guys from work,” and truly found happiness in His.
At around 5:30, I heard His key clicking and turning in the door, so I set my glass down and popped up off the couch to greet Him with a kiss. When He walked in, His shoulders were slumped and His eyes looked red and tired. He tossed all of the belongings from the pockets of His slacks haphazardly up on the counter, not bothering to organize them in the different compartments of the caddy like He normally did, and sauntered slowly over to the fridge to retrieve a beer. He hadn’t even looked at me yet.
I walked over to the kitchen from the living room and found Him leaning against the closed door of the fridge, His forehead pressed flat against the cold metal, and the fresh beer hanging loosely from His fingertips. He had a bad day. I wanted to pacify Him, release some of the tension that I could see forming in His neck and shoulders, so I eased up behind Him and gently massaged the straining muscles. He flinched when I touched Him.
“Not now, Quinn. It’s been a really long day.” His words were muffled by the closeness of His lips to the face of th
e refrigerator. He turned slowly, and brushed past me to retreat the living room and into His old leather recliner.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked gently, taking my seat back on the couch.
“Not really,” He grunted. “Honestly, all I want to do right now is drink this beer and watch the Rangers kick the shit out of the Rays.” He immediately started flipping through channels until He found the one broadcasting the game. The game that didn’t start for another hour and a half. I never understood how men could watch the sports casters talk for hours about the game and then sit through hours of the actual game. I guess its all part of that whole “Men are from Mars” thing.
I sat in shock, hurt, by His complete and total disregard for me. It was one of the biggest moments of my life, the start of my career, and He didn’t even bother to ask me how me how my day went. After a few minutes of silence, my hurt boiled into anger, so I decided to make Him ask me about it. “Isn’t there anything you want to ask me,” I tried to keep my voice cool, but the words came out laced with rage.
“Wha…oh, I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.” He said turning His head towards me. “You know how I get when I have a bad day. It’s like I tune everyone out and wallow in my own self-pity. I become a selfish asshole who forgets that anyone else even exists.” My thoughts exactly. But at least he recognized His selfishness and was even apologizing for it. “Did you want a beer?”
WHAT!?
It wasn’t until late Thursday evening that He finally asked me how my job was going. I sat and listened to Him night after night, venting about how hard of a week He was having. Apparently something went wrong with one of the firm’s biggest clients, and the whole office was on edge because of it; even the interns. He was also ranting on about how difficult it was going to be to try and juggle grad school and the internship once classes started up on Monday. By Thursday, though, the problem was solved at work, and it was as if there was magically time for us again. The sweet, loving man, the man that above all else, was my best friend, had returned.
Silent Flutter (The Butterfly Series) Page 19
