My dad and I pulled out chairs and sat down, too. For a long stretch, we stayed there, staring at each other, at the floor, at the walls . . . anything but at Quinn, whose eyes never moved from the center of the table.
“He was bringing us Chinese food. But I could have gone. Or maybe if I had talked to him a little longer. Or not so long. If he hadn’t been in that place right then . . . he’d be okay.” She lifted her gaze to my face. “Maybe it’s not even him, you know? The police said we had to identify him. Mom could get there, and maybe he’ll just be sitting there, talking about the accident and how he needs to get home. But they got mixed up and thought it was him. That happens, right? It could.”
My mother pressed her lips together. “Quinn, honey, I wish I could tell you that might happen, but it sounds like . . . the police don’t notify the family if they’re not sure.”
“If they’re so sure, then why did they make Mom go and look?” She shook her head, and I recognized the stubborn look in her eye. It was the same expression she wore when she was trying to talk me into doing something I didn’t want to do. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Dad’s a careful driver. You know that, Mark. Right? How could he get into an accident?”
“He probably didn’t do anything, Quinn. Sometimes things happen, and we can’t figure out why. I know it’s hard.”
“It’s stupid. And I’m not going to believe it until—until my mom gets back here.” She crossed her arms over her chest and retreated back into herself. For the next forty-five minutes, silence reigned in the kitchen, only broken when the front door opened again, and Carrie returned with Lisa and Joe.
Their eyes were red, and I could tell that Lisa, in particular, was shaking. But Carrie looked eerily like her daughter. She walked into the living room, that room that they almost never used, and sat down on the sofa, pulling a pillow over her stomach and holding it tight. Lisa came into the kitchen and began making coffee. I noticed she kept looking at her phone, and it occurred to me that no one had mentioned Leo. I wondered if he was out partying with his football buddies.
Quinn rose abruptly, her chair scraping on the tiled kitchen floor. She stalked into the front hallway and stood in the arched opening to the living room, hands on her hips.
“Well?” Her voice was rough. “Was it him? Or did they make a mistake?”
Carrie lifted her eyes. “Yes. It was him.”
For a few tense beats, none of us moved. And then Quinn dropped her arms to dangle at her sides. She moved into the living room and sat down in one of the overstuffed wing chairs.
Over the course of that horrible, endless night, my mother and Lisa took turns making coffee, pouring it and passing it around. Joe offered to go get food, but Carrie flipped out, absolutely refusing to let him go, and of course, we all understood why. The last time a man had left her house to bring back dinner, he’d ended up in the morgue.
Just before midnight, a couple of people from the Russells’ church came to the house carrying bags of rolls, platters of lunch meat and a few random casseroles and cakes. They didn’t say much, but they set out the food and made us all eat. All of us, that was, except for Quinn, who stubbornly refused to even try a bite.
Carrie, exhausted from bouts of crying, nodded off some time in the early hours of the morning, her head resting on my mother’s shoulder. Lisa curled up in the opposite corner of the sofa and dozed, and Joe stretched out on the carpeted floor. After a few minutes, he began to snore softly. My dad slept in his chair.
But Quinn didn’t close her eyes. She shifted now and again, but she didn’t speak, and she didn’t cry. When I tried to talk to her, she frowned at me as though I were speaking in a foreign language and didn’t answer me.
By the time the sun rose, I could barely keep my dry eyes open. Every time I blinked, it felt like sandpaper scraping over my eyeballs. My mother, who’d been putting away a few things in the kitchen, touched my shoulder.
“Nate. You need to go home and get some sleep. Dad’ll drive you. He should sleep some, too, in his own bed instead of that chair.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to leave Quinn.” I knew it was idiotic. I wasn’t doing her any good, but the idea of not being with her made me panic.
“I think maybe if you go get some sleep, she might, too. Just a few hours, honey. C’mon. I can’t have you getting sick. I can’t deal with it.”
That was what finally got to me. I nodded reluctantly and stood up. Quinn glanced at me without even a flicker of interest in her eyes.
“I’m just going home for a little bit. I’m going to get some sleep, and you should, too.”
“Nate’s right, Quinn. Why don’t you go lie down, sweetie?” Lisa rubbed Quinn’s back. “I’ll get you tucked in. Come on.”
As I left the house, the last thing I saw was Quinn dragging her feet as Lisa led her up the stairs. I hoped she could sleep.
At home, I was afraid I was too keyed up to drop off, but my body must’ve had other thoughts, since I was sound asleep the minute my head hit the pillow. I only woke up when hunger gripped me.
I checked my phone now, surprised to see it was early afternoon. No wonder I was starving; I hadn’t eaten much of the food at Quinn’s house the night before, so it had been nearly twenty-four hours since my last meal. I got up slowly, stretching my legs the way I always had to before I could trust my weight to them. Moving fast, leaping out of bed the way other kids did—that had never been an option for me. Instead, I did some deep-breathing, trying to be patient with my sub-standard body while my mind raced ahead.
I knew Lisa had been trying to find Leo last night. She’d muttered something to Joe about him not answering his phone, and her expression had been a mix of worry and mad. I wondered if she’d reached him, and then I wondered if he’d come home. I couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t.
The last year had been tough on all of us, but I’d been surprised at how much guilt and regret I’d suffered. Seeing Quinn in pain was hard. Knowing I’d had a part in making her hurt was excruciating. I’d managed to survive by telling myself that it had been for her own good, that I’d been thinking of her future.
It didn’t help much.
Since the day that Leo had broken up with her, Quinn had never looked at him. It was as if he had simply ceased to exist. I never caught her eyes sliding his way, never found her gaze lingering on his departing back. But Leo was a different story. When Quinn didn’t realize it, he watched her almost hungrily. During assemblies, when we were all together in the gym, he always took advantage of the crowd to keep his eyes glued on her. There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that he missed her.
And on graduation—God, had that been only the day before yesterday? I’d known that Leo was dangerously close to breaking. When Carrie and my mom had insisted on taking pictures, he hadn’t hesitated to pull Quinn tight against his side, and I hadn’t missed the way he’d murmured to her. I was sure Quinn had heard it, too. Doom struck me deep in the stomach, the sense that Leo wasn’t going to be able to stay away from Quinn much longer. He was going to crack, and if Quinn took him back—well, that meant I’d return to being just Nate, the other friend.
I sighed as I finally shuffled out of my bedroom and made my way to the kitchen. My dad was sitting at the table, staring into a half-drunk cup of coffee. He looked up at me and attempted a smile.
“Hey, bud. You get a little rest?”
“Yeah. I pretty much passed out. How about you?”
He nodded. “Yeah. But then I woke up and your mom wasn’t next to me, so I couldn’t sleep anymore.” He pointed to the cup. “Tried to make some coffee, but I don’t like mine the way I like hers.”
“We should go back over there. Mom and Lisa are probably tired, and they need someone else to take over so they can rest. And Quinn might need me.”
My father sat back in his chair. “Mom texted me just before you woke up. Leo got to the house a few hours ago.”
I dropped into a chair. “Shit. I was afra
id of that.”
“Nate.” His voice was mildly chastising.
“I’m an adult now, a high school graduate. I can curse if I want to.”
“I wasn’t talking about the cussing. Hell, son, say anything you want today. I was referring to what you said about Leo.”
“What about it?” Yeah, I sounded surly, almost like a petulant child. I didn’t give one single fuck.
“He’s here for Quinn. He’s helping. Mom said she’s finally getting some sleep.”
I wanted to growl, but instead I just nodded. “Good. She needed it.”
“And Nate, we’ve talked about this before.” My father paused, and I could sense his struggle, the fight between wanting to support and encourage me and needing me to understand the truth. “Quinn and Leo were apart for a year. And unless I’m mistaken, you told Quinn how you feel about her, and yet . . . nothing happened. It isn’t meant to be. So if Leo is the person who’s going to help Quinn get through the worst day of her life, you need to stand back and let him do it.”
“I know that.” I leaned my forehead on my hand, slumping forward. “I do know it, Dad. I’m not getting in the way of anything between them. But I don’t have to like it.”
“That’s true.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Okay. Let’s get ourselves together and go.”
When we walked into Quinn’s house an hour later, it seemed as though time had stood still. Carrie was still curled on the sofa, with my mom’s arm around her shoulder. Joe came out of the kitchen, carrying a slab of lasagna on a paper plate.
“Hey. You two get some shut-eye?”
My dad gave Joe one of those manly half-hugs, clapping him on the back. “Yeah, a little. You’ve got to be exhausted.”
“I conked out for quite a while on the floor.” He lowered his voice and leaned toward us. “The funeral director’s on his way over. He’s been calling since this morning, but Carrie said she wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. I finally just told him to come. So I’m not sure what she’s going to do when he gets here.”
My dad blew out a long sigh. “Okay. Well, we’ll try to keep it low-key and hope for the best. Did Bill—does anyone know what he wanted?”
Joe shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we can try to get some idea from Carrie . . .” He and my father both stepped into the living room, talking quietly.
I took advantage of the fact that all the parents were preoccupied and began climbing the steps, hoping no one would notice and try to stop me. I knew Quinn had to be upstairs in her room, and if Leo was here, he was with her.
Hesitating outside the door, I knocked softly and then turned the knob, not sure what to expect and dreading what I might see.
Leo sat on the end of the bed, and he looked up when the door opened. He was wearing shorts but no shirt, and his hair was messed up, as though he’d just slid out from under the covers. Holding up a finger to his lips, he glanced back over his shoulder to where Quinn lay sleeping.
She was on her stomach, with her hair half-covering the side of her face. A sheet had been tugged up nearly to her shoulders, but I could tell she wasn’t wearing a shirt or bra even before I caught sight of her yoga pants, turned inside-out, hanging off the side of the bed.
Leo stood up and motioned me back. I moved out of his way, and he stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him carefully.
I waited for him to start in on me for disturbing them, but to my surprise, Leo wrapped one arm around me in a tight hug.
“Nate.” His voice broke. “I still can’t believe it. How can this be happening?”
For the first time in many years, I let my resentment of Leo slip away and pounded him on the back. “I know. It’s like a nightmare.”
We both pulled back, and I jerked my head toward the bedroom. “How’s she doing?”
Leo lifted one shoulder. “Man, I don’t know. She was mad, and then she was crying, and then after . . .” His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. “Well, she just really broke down, and once that happened, she fell asleep. I didn’t want to move and risk waking her up, but she’s still pretty deep.” He leaned against the wall, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t want to leave her alone, though. I promised I’d stay.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “Do you need anything? Want me to bring you up some food?” I’d eaten a leftover burger at home before we’d come back over, and my stomach had finally stopped growling.
“Thanks, but I’ll wait until Quinn’s ready to eat.” He studied me for a minute, his face inscrutable. “Nate, about what happened before . . . last year—”
I held up my hand. “We don’t have to talk about it now. I know I fucked up. I didn’t have any right to come between you and Quinn, and—I don’t have an excuse, except that I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.”
“You weren’t wrong.” He leveled his gaze at me. “I was being an asshole, and if you hadn’t said it—well, I don’t know what might’ve happened. As it was, breaking up with Quinn—it opened my eyes to how I was screwing up stuff.” He braced one hand against the door jamb. “I’m smarter now, though, Nate. Smart enough to know I’m better with Quinn than I am without.”
“I’m not going to get in the way. Definitely not now.” I paused as I heard a commotion downstairs, and the front door open. Must be the guy from the funeral home.
“I appreciate it.” He tilted his neck, cracking it. “I better go back in there. What’s going on downstairs?”
“Funeral guy just got here, I guess. Carrie’s got to make some decisions. God, this sucks.”
Leo winced a little. “It’s just surreal. I keep waiting for someone to tell me it’s all been some sick joke.”
“Can you imagine what it would be like? Losing your father?” We both were quiet for a minute, thinking of horrible possibilities.
“I had to think about losing my mom last year, and that was shit I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. So no, I can’t even wrap my mind around having a parent gone, just like that.” He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. “We’re both going to have to watch Quinn for a while, make sure she’s really okay. She puts up a good front, but she’s hurting.”
“We can do that. It’ll be like when we were little. Remember when Quinn went through that phase when she cried whenever her mom left? And you and I used to do silly crap to distract her.”
Leo smiled. “I’d forgotten that. She was a mess.”
“Yeah, she was.” I smiled a little, too, remembering. “There’s no reason we can’t do the same thing now. We’ll get her through this, right?”
“We will.” Leo held out a hand to me, his eyes sober. “The trio. Together again.”
The seven days after my father died were a blur of numbness. Later, I would look back and not remember much more than a few minutes here and there.
People came to the house. My mother’s family as well as my father’s, people I hadn’t seen in years, arrived in town. They didn’t stay with us—except for my mother’s sister, who did—but it seemed there were always at least three or four people at the house. And they all wanted to talk to me, or hug me, or feed me.
All I wanted was to be left alone. Well, alone with Leo, that was.
He never left me during that week, unless it was for brief snatches of time when he had to run home for more clothes, and even then, he made sure Nate was with me. The two most important guys in my life seemed to have come to some sort of meeting of the minds, and they were more at ease with each other than I’d seen them in years.
The three of us hid out in my room as much as we could. When I had to go downstairs and be sociable, Leo held my hand in his and sat next to me the whole time. He was fiercely protective, cutting off anyone who veered into anything too deep or painful. And he took care of my mom, too, frequently sending her upstairs to rest when she began to look overwhelmed.
Every night, when I climbed into bed, Leo was with me. That first evening, after he’d come back to me, my mother had been too up
set to notice him climbing the steps with his arm around my shoulders, but Lisa had seen us and called to her son.
Leo had paused without turning around. “What, Mom?”
“Do you think this is a good idea?” Lisa’s voice was even. I’d never known her to get rattled with any of her sons, and tonight was no exception.
“Yeah, actually, I think it is.” He shifted on the step, sliding his hand down to grip mine. “Quinn needs me. I’m not leaving her alone.” There was steel in his tone, and his mom must’ve heard it, too. She nodded, though I heard her sigh.
“All right.” Lisa glanced at me, and her eyes softened. “Dad and I are going to head home in a few minutes. If you need anything, Quinn, you call me.”
“I will.” I wanted to tell her how much I appreciated everything she’d done over the past twenty-four hours since the unthinkable had happened, but I was too tired and my brain was too sluggish to form the words. I squeezed Leo’s hand and leaned into him. “Thank you, Lisa.”
As if she understood, she smiled a little. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep again after I’d stayed in bed through most of the afternoon, but the minute Leo had slid under the covers, wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest, I’d dropped off again into a blessedly dreamless slumber.
After that, we fell into the same rhythm. I was pretty sure my mother eventually noticed Leo coming out of my bedroom in the morning, but she didn’t say anything to me. But then again, that week we were all just trying to survive. We didn’t have the strength or the will for anything else.
To be honest, I wasn’t too worried about my mother realizing that Leo and I were sleeping together, because that was all we were doing. After that first day, I didn’t want anything from Leo but his warm body and the knowledge that he was there for me. I couldn’t think of sex; it was as if part of my brain had been clicked off.
Leo never pushed me. He kissed me softly on the lips each night and each morning, and he touched me all the time, but never in a way that was meant to tantalize. We didn’t have deep talks about the future or the past, and I was grateful for that, too. He let me be, without pressure or expectations.
The Keeping Score Box Set Page 34
