Days of You and Me (18 page)

“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

“H
oney, 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.”