by J. Bengtsson
The buzzing on my nightstand temporarily drew my mind away from the throbbing in my brain. Texts, one after another, were coming in quick succession. I grabbed my phone and silenced the vibrations. I didn’t even bother to check the senders since the only person I wanted to talk to was the one person who didn’t have my number.
Jess. My god. Yesterday. Last night. My fingers sliding over her body. The way she moved. I hardened. I needed her. Wanted her. Would give anything to have her again. She’d left in too much of a hurry for proper goodbyes, leaving me with a drunken urge to text her. But my prior experience with emergencies told me she needed her space. Besides, Jess and I had made a plan, however hastily it had been put together. I would text her in the morning, and that was that.
Easing my body back onto the mattress, I was surprised by my need for her. I’d felt something with Jess yesterday. She’d eased that lonely spot inside me. The place that no one got to go to or see. Why her? Why now? This time yesterday, I didn’t even know she existed, and now I couldn’t imagine being without her. Jess was someone I could see myself with, not just for a night but for life. And sure, people connected all the time. They fell in lust. They fell in love. But not me.
I didn’t bond easily with others. Never had. Actually, that wasn’t true. There had been a time—before—but I barely remembered before. But after? Oh yeah, I remembered that. Imagine aging a decade in a matter of months. That was me, which made the after especially difficult when it came to connecting with kids my own age. While they were laughing and cheerfully running around, I stayed a safe distance from the action, hyper-aware of the danger that lurked. I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t connect. Gone was the brave, inquisitive boy who’d led his peers. Gone was the sporty kid always carrying a ball tucked under his arm. And gone was the chatty talker who couldn’t walk down the street without making a new friend.
That punishing self-isolation carried on through grade school, gradually easing through my middle and high school years, but the feeling of being different never fully went away. Maybe it was the glare of existing in Jake’s wake—first after the kidnapping and then after the fame—that kept me isolated from my peers. As I got older, I thought maybe it might be different with women. My confidants—Grace, Emma, and Sam—were all women, so maybe I just expected it to be easier to connect with females. But it never was. In every relationship I’d ever had, there’d been a disconnect from the very start. I struggled to make the investment with them even though I knew I should. I was embarrassed to even admit that the point where I was now with Jess was further than I’d ever been with any woman I’d ever dated. Jess had flicked a switch inside me. With her I didn’t feel like I was crawling around in the dark. I had to know why. I had to see this through.
It wasn’t lost on me that I’d seen a very similar scenario to Jess and me play out before. It was a moment that was etched into my memory forever—the very first flickerings of love. I’d seen it through the eyes of my brother and the woman who would one day become his wife. Jake had fallen for Casey in the span of just one night. I still remembered the electricity in the room and that razor-sharp focus projecting off both of them. Neither one was able to pull their eyes away from the other. Somehow, they knew. I’d been sixteen at the time, and it had made an indelible mark on me. Even now, years later, I still considered that the gold standard of love… and why I knew I’d never found it.
But yesterday—last night—the electricity was there. The razor-sharp focus was there. My eyes seeing only the girl. It was there. I knew it made no sense, but was it supposed to? Jake and Casey hadn’t made any sense at the time either, but they’d never wavered. I blinked up at the ceiling, shocked by the thought slowly crystalizing in my brain. Was this my ‘Casey’ moment?
Was Jess my one?
My phone lit up, now the only indication of incoming calls. I tilted the screen toward me and soured upon seeing the Facetime request from my brother Kyle. Somehow I’d successfully kept my family at bay, probably only because I’d managed to send off another group text last night minutes before getting shit-faced drunk. In it, I’d reassured them that I wasn’t inching my way along a ledge somewhere. My family was funny like that. Even the most innocent of things could go from zero to worst-case scenario in a matter of seconds. And no one in the family seemed to have much faith in my solitary coping skills, despite the fact that I’d been weathering the storm alone my whole life.
Still, I was almost insulted that they’d sent Kyle to make sure I was all right. Who in their right mind would put him on the front lines? But then, maybe that was the strategy. Toss the most harmless member of the family in first to test the waters, and if he survived, send in the rest of the troops.
“Yeah?” I answered, hoping my gruff morning voice and appearance would be enough to scare him away.
“Damn, dude!” He jumped back. “You look rough. I can almost smell your breath from here.”
I breathed into my hand to confirm his theory and then cringed.
“Exactly.” He nodded. “Well, at least you’re alive. The fam will be happy to hear.”
“It was a nail-biter there for a while.”
“Nah. You’d never leave without getting the last word.”
Had he not seen my performance last night? If that wasn’t getting the last word, then I didn’t know what was.
“What do you want, Kyle? I’m severely hung over, and seeing your face makes me want to vomit.”
“Well, all right. Check you out. In a relatively good mood…considering.”
Years of being Jake’s punching bag made it near impossible to insult Kyle.
“And I wanted to thank you. See, when Kenz and I first heard you were going on Next in Line, we were both worried that you’d take our place as the favorite McKallister on a reality TV show. We worked hard for that title, as you know. Anyway, I should have known you’d screw it all up. I mean, what were we even worried about, am I right?”
“You guys are always underestimating me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Is there anything else, or can I go back to my misery?” I asked, rubbing my weary eyes. I was not in the mood for his grandstanding.
“Actually, there is just one other tiny little thing. Have you happened to look outside today?”
The way he said it implied I was missing something, so I rose from my bed and looked out the window. Squinting into the morning sun, all I could see was traffic for miles.
“Not that window,” he said, overseeing my movements through Facetime.
“It’s the only window I have, Kyle.”
“Ah, well, that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
He didn’t answer my question, instead opting for another one of his own. “Have you, by chance, checked social media?”
Now I was getting irritated. If Kyle didn’t spill soon, he wouldn’t make it back to the bunker to tell the others I’d survived. “Just get to the damn point, Kyle.”
“Okay, so. Don’t shoot the messenger, but there’s a crowd gathered outside your apartment building.”
“My apartment building? Why?”
He blinked. Then shook his head. “Why do you think?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”
“Oh, my god. You really are the worst reality star ever, aren’t you? Okay, let me spell it out for you—B. O. O. M.”
“Wait, what?”
“Dude, you blew up. Twitter. Instagram. You’re breaking the goddamn internet.”
That unbelievable piece of information took a second to process, but once it sank in, I had to know which direction I was trending. “In a good way or bad?”
“Does it matter? No publicity is bad publicity, bro.”
“Tell that to Jake,” I said.
“I have.”
“Kyle, come on. Good or bad?”
“Good. Real good.”
“So… they liked my performance?”
“Why w
ouldn’t they? It was bomb.”
It was? What I saw last night was anything but. “So, what do they want, these people outside?”
Kyle shook his head, tsking me. “It’s almost as if you didn’t grow up with a rock star for a brother. How do you not know what they want?”
“Because I’ve never had this happen before, dick!”
“Okay, fine. Let me paint the picture. You know when, like, Jake goes to a grocery store and people are ducking behind the avocados to take pictures of him and then those same people post the pictures to social media just to brag that they saw him? Now, pluck Jake out of that scenario and insert yourself. That, my friend, is what those people outside want. You, Quinn. They want you.”
I stared at him, blinking. That couldn’t be right.
“Don’t believe me? Check your followers on Instagram. Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
It took all of ten seconds to discover my brother was telling the truth. My followers hadn’t just doubled, they’d quadrupled—maybe even more.
My jaw dropped. “What the hell?”
“Exactly,” Kyle confirmed. “Now, don’t start getting a big head. You’re nowhere near Jake levels—or even my levels, for that matter—but it’s a solid start for our little troublemaking Quinn. You’re just so cute, I want to squeeze those cheeks of yours.”
I cut him off. “I have more.”
“More what?”
“More Instagram followers than you.”
“No, you don’t,” he scoffed.
“Yes, I do.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he said, his screen going black while he checked his own Instagram profile.
Once he came back on, disgruntled, I was ready to pounce. “Ah, look at you. So cute. Totally schooled by your own baby brother. Sorry, Kyle. How does it feel to be third best?”
“Shut up,” he grumbled.
I popped back over to my profile once more just to bask in the glory.
“Where did all these people come from?” I asked, more to myself than to anyone else.
“It’s not rocket science, Quinn. You went rogue in front of twelve million people. And then those twelve million people told their friends…”
I stopped listening when I saw the magical check next to my Instagram handle. “I have a check mark!”
“Yeah. Yeah. And you know what else you have? A security problem. Your apartment building isn’t equipped to handle a guy with a blue check mark next to his name; you know what I mean?”
“I’m starting to.” I nodded numbly, clicking back over to Kyle. “Does Jake know?”
“Dude, everyone knows.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What does he think?”
Kyle stared at me. “Does it matter what he thinks?”
It always mattered. Jake’s support was gold to me, especially since he so rarely had the opportunity to give me his stamp of approval.
“It doesn’t,” I mumbled, looking away. “I was just asking.”
Kyle took pity on me and offered up some rare sincerity. “He’s proud of you, Quinn. We all are. You killed it last night. Plus, we’re all on pins and needles waiting to see how you’re going to get out of this latest mess.”
Of course. I was a screwup. Even when I won, I lost. But I couldn’t let that get me down. I had a blue check mark, and what I did with that power was up to me. I sank into the chair beside my bed, unsure what to say or how to feel. This had been my dream for so long, but I’d never really allowed myself to believe it could actually happen for me.
“What should I do?” I asked. “About the security problem, I mean?”
“First, pack a bag. You’re staying at the main house for a few days. Second, brush your fuckin’ teeth and take a shower. I’m thinking you smell like Bigfoot’s dick right now. And third, be ready in thirty minutes. I’m coming to get you.”
“You don’t have to make the trip over. I can drive myself.”
“No worries. We all have to be at Mom and Dad’s by noon anyway.”
My stunned expression said it all.
“Seriously, Quinn? It’s Mother’s Day.”
“Again?”
“Yes, again. It happens every year. Haven’t you been reading the family group chat?”
The truth was the family group chat had been blowing up my feed as of late. Once it started interrupting practice sessions for the show, I’d silenced them.
“Unbelievable.” Kyle shook his head. “You’ve been muting your own family? Do you realize how many people would kill to be in a McKallister family photo?”
“We’re taking photos too?” I whined. Nothing brought frowns to our faces faster than trying to fake happiness for a family photo.
Kyle shrugged. “The man has so little joy, Quinn. Just give him what he wants.”
Yes, you heard right. Somehow, over the years, Mother’s Day had become about my father. He took credit for everything because, and I quote, ‘You kids should thank me instead because chances are your mother wasn’t in the mood.’ So, now, in addition to his birthday week, we all had to celebrate him on Mother’s Day.
“I’m tired of living in fear of Dad’s special holidays. Someone needs to put an end to his tyranny.”
“Great. I nominate you. But please let me be in another state when you rip the beating heart out of his chest.”
I cringed at just the thought of being the Grinch who stole Mother’s Day from my father.
“Never mind. I’ll be there.”
“Ah, good. Doesn’t it feel nice to be agreeable for a change?” Kyle dissed. “Oh, and Quinn? Don’t forget to wear white.”
“White? Are we going to a Spanish rave?”
“Pictures, shithead. Dad’s request. Just do it and stop complaining. Jesus.”
I exhaled audibly. “My god. Fine. I’ll come dressed like the Pillsbury Doughboy. Are you happy now?”
“Ecstatic. Love the enthusiasm. Now get in that shower, Sasquatch. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
We hung up, but I held the phone, staring at the screen. I’d just gotten the biggest news of my life, and there was only one person I wanted to share it with. Bringing up Jess’s contact information, I started, stopped, and backspaced multiple times before finally settling on the message and sending off a text.
10
Jess: Noah’s Arc
Sleep finally came for Noah late into the night, allowing me a moment to reflect on everything that had happened. The on-purpose accident, Quinn, the passion on the couch, the revelation that my son was strong-arming my exes into professing their love for him. I wasn’t sure how to feel about any of it, but the sick feeling building in the pit of my stomach told me that something was going to have to give, and it wouldn’t be that little boy hooked up to monitors on the bed.
Noah. The force of his emotions shocked me. Did he want a father figure so badly that he was willing to create a dad where none existed? Not one of my exes had bothered to tell me about the conversation they’d had with him, which told me it had meant nothing to them. How could a little boy begging for affection not be worthy of a mention? And Dylan? I didn’t know what I was thinking with him. If ever there was a less fatherly figure, I’d like to know. I could picture Dylan getting that question while fishing off the pier with Noah. He’d have been shocked. Blindsided. How else would he have answered? No, Noah. I don’t love you. I only love nailing your mom.
But this wasn’t Dylan’s fault. He had no allegiance to my son. Noah’s needs came down to Nick and me, and since Nick had already tagged out of the whole fatherhood game, the blame fell squarely on my shoulders. I was the one bringing these men into Noah’s life, which meant I was the one who needed to carefully consider the effects they had on my son. If Noah thought every man I brought home was a potential father for him to love, then I was doing a great disservice to everyone involved—because when those ‘potential fathers’ left me, they also left him.
So, where did that leave me an
d Quinn? I felt stupid even bringing him into the equation seeing that we’d only just met a few explosive hours earlier. But I couldn’t not, because the attraction I felt toward him was too powerful to ignore. It wasn’t just the way he looked or the things he did to slay me. It was that I wanted him right down to my core. I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. Quinn and me, we had something. I felt it, and I was convinced he did too. If given a chance, we’d burn bright… but for how long? Quinn was too young and too talented to stay in one place for long. If what I believed was true—that Quinn was on the cusp of stardom—then it wouldn’t be long before he was gone for good.
If it were just me, I’d go for it. Live in the moment. Love hard and fast and free. But it wasn’t just me. Noah would always be part of the equation, and every decision I made would affect his life. He and I, we were drawn to the same type of people. The more fun and dynamic, the better. There was no doubt in my mind that he and Quinn would bond quickly. It would be puppy love at its finest, and Quinn would probably make a great temporary daddy to Noah. They’d laugh. They’d play. They’d pass flatulence jokes between one another. Hell, Quinn might even teach Noah how to lose gracefully at miniature golf. But when it ended between the two of us—and it would surely end—Quinn wouldn’t just take my heart with him. He’d take Noah’s too.
There was another option, of course. I could keep my son a secret from Quinn and sneak around like some desperate housewife carrying on an affair with her hot, young lover. Quinn wouldn’t know. Noah wouldn’t know. But I would know. And how could I show Quinn who I really was without sharing the most important part of me?
I lay my head back on the chair and fought off the tears. Why did things always have to be so complicated? It had been a balancing act since the day Noah was born—how much of myself to give to him and how much to keep for myself. On any given day, the scale tipped in Noah’s favor, but today was different. If you want something you’ve never had, you have to do something you’ve never done. My god, I’d almost forgotten Lloyd’s words. Was his prophecy about Quinn and me? And if so, what did it all mean?
