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.”
“So you’re not going to lay any words of wisdom on me, oh great guru?” I smiled, softening the words to teasing.
“Not any more than I already have,” Nate returned. I noticed that the shadows under his eyes had deepened. He looked exhausted. “But I do have one more favor.”
From under the blanket, he withdrew a flat white envelope and held it out to me in hands that shook just a little.
“What’s this?” I turned the envelope over, but there wasn’t any writing on it other than Quinn’s name.
“It’s for Quinn.” His voice was strained. “I want you to give this to her . . . the day you marry her.”
“Nate—” I began, but he cut me off.
“I’m too tired to argue with you, Leo. Take it. I promise, it’s nothing bad. It’s . . . my way of giving you both my blessing, okay? Call it me trying to be part of your day, if you want. I can’t talk to her about this, not now. But I want her to know . . . that it’s okay. That I want you to be together.” He attempted a smile. “And humor me. In the front row that day, leave one chair empty. Remember me when you look at it. Somehow, I’ll be there.”
The silence that stretched between us was heavy and deep. Nate exhaled and tucked his hand back under the cover. He seemed somehow even smaller now, as though he had shrunk a little during our time together.
“I should let you rest now. I don’t want to wear you out.” It sounded ludicrous coming out of my mouth that simply lying there talking had tired him, but it was the truth. His skin was almost translucent, and it struck me anew how thin he was.
“Yeah, crazy, isn’t it? Sometimes I need a nap after interacting with anyone. After the nurse stops by, I sleep for three or four hours.” He yawned enormously, as though the power of suggestion had pushed him over the edge.
“I’ll go now.” But I didn’t move yet. “I’d rather not run into Quinn. I have a feeling she’d get good and pissy that the two of us were talking about her behind her back.”
He grimaced. “Yeah, some things don’t change.”
I dug my car keys out of my pocket and slid the keyring over my finger. “Is it . . . what’s it like? Being married to Quinn?” I’d long ago established that I was a glutton for punishment. Asking this question was downright masochistic.
Nate’s eyes drifted to half-mast. “It’s . . . perfect.” His voice had dropped, and his words slurred a little in sleepiness. “It’s what I always wanted.” He managed to focus on me briefly. “But . . . not like it would be with you. What Quinn is to me . . . it’s not like what you’ll have. ‘Sokay, though. It’s okay. It’s enough, you know? For someone like me, it’s enough.”
My throat closed. Looking down at my friend, I had the overwhelming sense that I wasn’t going to see him again, and it dawned on me what kind of gift Nate had given me today. He’d sacrificed precious time and energy, first to convince me to come up and then to give me advice that I knew couldn’t have been easy to share. Everything he’d suggested had to do with how we would live our lives after his was over.
“Uh, Nate . . .” I cleared my throat. “Thanks. For this, I mean. For today. For everything.”
His lips curled up into a slight smile. “You’re welcome, Leo.”
“I know I haven’t been a very good friend. I’m sorry, Nate. I wish . . . I wish things could’ve been different for us. I wish—” I choked. “I wish you didn’t have to die.”
He adjusted his head a little. “I know. Sucks, but . . .” He blinked, the movement so slow that I wasn’t sure his eyes would open again. “I got everything I ever wanted, in the end. And no matter what you think, I had the best friends in the world.” His smile grew brighter momentarily before it began to fade. “Don’t think I’ll prob’ly see you again. Take care of our girl, ‘kay?”
“Always.” I coughed and swiped at my eyes. “Always will. For both of us, all right?”
“Yeah.” Nate sighed and his chin sagged a little as he fell asleep. “Bye, Leo.”
I stood in the living room near him as the afternoon’s light began to fade.
“Good-bye, Nate.”
Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye by Judy Collins
“Is it raining?”
I looked up from my book when Nate spoke, his voice laden with drowsiness. “Yes. It has been all day. Perfect weather for curling up with a good book . . . or napping. So between us, we’ve got this covered.”
“Hmm.” He turned his head, blinking at the gray light filtering into the bedroom. “It’s so cold. Feels like it should be snow.”
I reached over to tuck the heavy comforter more securely around Nate’s legs. “The temperature’s not quite low enough here for snow, but I bet they’re getting some of the white stuff up at home.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” He glanced over my shoulder. “Where’s Mom?”
I bit my lip, swallowing back a surge of unease. “She and your dad drove up to see Leo’s game today. The Rebels are playing in Philly.” We talked about this last night. Don’t you remember? I didn’t say the words, because they would accomplish nothing. A nurse and a social worker from hospice had come to talk with us last week, and one of the signs of progression they’d mentioned was an increase in memory lapses.
“As the patient continues his journey to the end, he begins to disengage with the world around him. It’s completely normal, but it can be upsetting for his family. Try to keep in mind that it’s not intentional. Be as tolerant as you can be. Pointing out the forgetfulness isn’t helpful, so just answer the questions, even if you already have.”
So now I repeated what we’d discussed the night before. “Lisa and Joe invited my mom and your parents to go over with them to see Leo play. They’re staying overnight at home, and then your mom’ll be back here tomorrow morning.”
“Okay.” Nate’s eyes slid closed again, but he kept talking. “When’s the game? Are we going to watch?”
I leaned back in my chair and propped my feet on the end of the bed. “I was going to, but if you want, I can bring the television in here so we can see it together. How does that sound?”
“Good.” He yawned. “You didn’t go with them to see Leo, huh?”
My heart thumped against my chest wall. “Of course not. I wanted to be with you.” I nudged his foot with mine. “Besides, it’s too cold to sit outside. I’d rather be here, nice and cozy with you. I took out some ground beef, so maybe I’ll make us some chili and cornbread. How does that sound?”
One side of his mouth tipped up a little. “You know I’ll eat anything you make. But I’m not that hungry right now. Maybe later.”
“All right.” I opened my book again, thinking he was drifting back to sleep, as he did so often these days.
But apparently he wasn’t ready yet. “Quinn. I need to talk with you about something. I kept waiting for another time, when I felt better, could be more awake, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. So I need you to not let me fall asleep while we talk, okay?”
I frowned. “Nate, you can sleep if you want to. It’s all right. I’m not going anywhere. We can talk later.”
His head moved restlessly on the pillow. “No, gotta be now. I want to talk with you about Leo.”
This was the very last conversation I’d expected and coincidentally the one I least wanted to have. “Nate, come on. Let’s not do this.”
“Don’t make me waste my energy arguing. I just need you to listen.” He licked his lips as though it might help him speak.
“Do you need some water? Or something else to drink?” I shut my book again and let it slide to the floor as I stood up.
“No. Listen to me, Quinn. I know how you feel about Leo. I know you love him. I know that, for you, Leo’s always been the one.”
Tears were threatening, but I was not going to give in. Not now. “This is hardly the conversation I want to have with my husband. What’re you trying to say, Nate?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just saying, I know you’re in love with him. Maybe in the back of your mind, you’ve been thinking that once I’m gone, the two of you might have another chance.”
Now I couldn’t help crying. I wasn’t sure if it was at the idea of Nate’s death or the thought of Leo, but I wiped angrily at my wet cheeks. “That’s a horrible thing to say to me, Nate. Horrible and hurtful.”
“It’s not meant to be, Quinn. It’s supposed to be us being real, like we’ve always been. I tell you the truth. You tell me, too. This is not the time to change that.”
I drew in a ragged breath. “Are you going to tell me that I’m not meant to be with Leo? Is that what this is all about?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.” He slitted his eyes open. “Even if I believed that, what good would it do to tell you? No. I just want to tell you . . . it’s okay. It’s okay for you to love Leo, to make a life with him.” A smile ghosted across his pale face. “A life that I hope will last a hell of a lot longer than what we’ve had. But I couldn’t wish for you to be any happier than I’ve been these last six months, because it’s just not possible. No one will ever be happier than I’ve been.”
I sniffled, reaching for the box of tissues next to Nate’s bed. “You’ve made me happy, too, Nate. I love you, and I’ll never stop. No matter what, no matter how long I live, you’ll always be a part of me.”
“I hope so. I think . . . I don’t want to be forgotten, you know? I’m not leaving any legacy. No children, no great work of literature, no world-changing scientific discovery. All I’m leaving is the love I have for you. So I hope you’ll think of me sometimes.”
“More than just sometimes. I promise.”
He nodded, though it was barely perceptible. “I want you to promise something else. And it’s important, although you probably won’t think so right now.”
“Okay.” I sat down again, this time at the foot of the bed. Nate shifted his feet over to make more room for me, and I smiled. Even at this stage, he was aware of my comfort, trying to accommodate me.
“After I’m gone, things might be hard on you. You’re going to be upset. Sad. And you might think Leo is the answer, and you might be tempted to run to him.”
My shoulders stiffened. I hadn’t let myself think that far ahead, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d been clinging to the idea that Leo would be there to put me back together after Nate passed. It didn’t surprise me that Nate already knew that.
“And I get that, Quinn. But please . . . give yourself some time, okay? Don’t jump into anything. Stop and . . . maybe get to know Quinn a little better.” He wiggled his foot against my hip. “She’s pretty awesome, you know. But the last five years have been tough on her.”
I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Time, huh? Are you saying I need to find myself, Nate?”
He didn’t smile. “Maybe. And it might mean . . . going away. Not forever, but for long enough that you can figure out what it is you really want. And what you need. You haven’t always been fair to Leo, you know? So if you decide you want to be with him, you better be sure this time. You shouldn’t break his heart again. He really loves you, Quinn. He’d do anything for you. I don’t think you always understand that.”
Bringing up my knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my legs. “I don’t think I understand what you’re saying. It’s Leo who’s broken my heart. He’s the one who . . . who chose football over me.”
Nate sighed, his chest rising and falling. “That’s not fair or accurate. Did you ever ask Leo to stop playing football?”
I fiddled with a thread on the blanket. “Not in so many words, no. But if he knows me so well and loves me like he says, I shouldn’t have to ask him. I shouldn’t have to put him in that position.”
“So you want Leo to give up something he loves, something that’s part of him, his way of living and his livelihood . . . but you want it to be his idea? Sounds to me like you don’t want to take responsibility for letting him know how you feel. That isn’t fair, Quinn, and you know it.”
“When I left him down in Carolina that summer—there wasn’t any better choice. I was in an impossible place. I could stay down there and hide, because Leo the Lion wasn’t supposed to have a girlfriend, or I could walk away with a little bit of dignity. I made the only logical decision.”
Nate coughed, turning his head toward the wall, and I jumped up to get him a glass of water. I held the straw to his lips as he sucked in the liquid and nodded his thanks, clearing his throat before he spoke again.
“And just how happy did that decision make you? Did that dignity keep you warm at night?”
I scowled, turning my back to Nate. “I didn’t know . . . it was only supposed to be a break. I just wanted some space, to let all the fuss over Leo die down. But it never did.”
“And Leo never came after you, did he? He took you at your word. He was devastated, Quinn. You think you were in an impossible place? Leo was in a no-win situation. You wanted him to do something that ultimately wouldn’t have made you happy.” He let his head loll to the side and fastened me with a tolerant if pointed gaze. “Remember the summer after freshman year? When you decided to work down here, and Leo was upset? You admitted back then that you’d put him in a position where he had to do things your way or end up pissing you off.”
“I remember.”
“So all I’m saying is that I hope you’ll think long and hard about what it is you want from life, from Leo and from yourself before you commit to trying again with him. Right now, you don’t want to think about that. But eventually you will. I hope you’ll think about what I’ve said when you do.”
I heaved out a long breath. “Okay.”
He smiled at me, this time both sides of his mouth curling up. “Is that a promise? You’re not just saying it to placate me?”
“No. I mean it.”
“Good.” He seemed to relax, to fade back against the pillow again, as though the effort
of our conversation had worn him out, which it probably had. “Might doze a little before the game, ‘kay?”
“Sure.” I stood up, moving restlessly around the room, fixing Nate’s covers and adjusting the blinds until I was sure he was asleep again. When his breathing was even, I slipped out into the living room and clicked on the television, keeping the volume low.
The stadium in Philadelphia appeared on the screen, and as I’d guessed, snow flurries filled the air, frosting the players just coming out onto the field as well as everyone in the seats. I found my phone and texted my mom, asking her if they were keeping warm.
When the phone buzzed, I assumed she was answering me. Instead, though, I saw Zelda’s name on the screen.
Zelda: Hey, doll. You watching the game?
I sighed, wondering if she was at the stadium, too. As glad as I was that Leo had so much support, I couldn’t help feeling a little like Cinderella, forced to stay at home while everyone else went to the ball.
Quinn: Just turned it on.
I’d no sooner hit reply than another text from her flew across my display.
Zelda: Want some company?
I frowned, but before I could wonder too long, there was a soft knock at the front door. Grinning, I jumped up from the sofa and sprinted to answer it.
“About time, woman! We’re freezing our very fine asses off out here.” Zelda pushed past me into the house, followed by Gia, who stopped long enough to give me a tight, if slightly damp, hug.
“What’re you guys doing here?” I stood back and gave them both room to take off their coats, hanging them on the hooks just inside the front door. Gia raked her fingers through her cap of black hair, sending droplets of water all over both Zelda and me.
“Hey, shaggy dog, watch it there.” Zelda frowned and stepped away, wrinkling her nose. “Not bad enough I have to run through the deluge, but then I have to get shaken on in here.”
Of course, Zelda herself looked impeccable. Her long white-blonde hair was twisted into a knot on the back of her head, and her makeup was not the least bit smeared. If anything, she looked dewy and perfect. If she hadn’t been one of my best friends, I might’ve hated her.
The Keeping Score Box Set Page 57
