Read Days of You and Me Online

Authors: Tawdra Kandle

Tags: #Keeping Score, Book Three

Days of You and Me (13 page)

“She’s not exaggerating. She really does.” Corey began counting off on his fingers. “There’re all the girls she’s still in touch with from high school. And then there are her sorority sisters from Virginia State. And then the women she works with now, from her job and on all the charities she helps.”

I nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m not ready to give up yet. I have to believe Mia and I haven’t blown our last chance.”

“Mia?” Ellie’s brow wrinkled.

“Ah . . . yeah. Her full name is Amelia Quinn, after her grandmother, and when we were little, her mom would call her that sometimes. I couldn’t say it—when I tried, it came out Mia Quinn. So that’s always been my special name for her.”

“Oh . . . my . . . God. That’s just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Ellie pressed her lips together, and I was pretty sure she was getting teary-eyed. “Okay, forget about the other women. I have
got
to meet this girl, and if the two of you don’t end up together, eventually, it’s going to break my heart, too.”

“You heard her.” Corey scrubbed at his mouth with a napkin and threw an arm around his wife. “Ellie’s kind of spooky like that. She says something’s going to happen, and it almost always does.”

“I wish that was true.” She smiled at her husband, the kind of expression I recognized and instantly envied, because it reminded me of how Quinn looked at me sometimes. Or used to look at me. Ellie threaded her fingers through Corey’s and cast me a half-apologetic glance that said she knew what I was thinking.

“I guess I feel like Corey and I were so lucky to find each other early and always be together that I want that for everyone else. I wish everyone could be as happy as we are.”

“Thanks.” I stabbed a juicy cherry with my fork and stuck it into my mouth. “I’d just be glad for one more chance to prove to Quinn that we’re supposed to be together. At the same time, I’m scared shitless that I’ll screw it up again.”

“As much as I’d like to say you should go for it as soon as you can, I gotta say, man . . . maybe your friend Nate’s got a point. If you want to make sure you two have the best shot, it’s possible Quinn needs some time to get over everything.” Corey turned his head and brushed his lips over Ellie’s cheek. “Remember after your accident, babe? That was a tough time.”

“It was.” Ellie nodded, leaning on Corey as she looked at me. “When we were sophomores in college, I was in a car accident. A bunch of my friends and I were driving home from an away game, and we were hit by an old man who’d fallen asleep at the wheel. The girl driving the car I was in was killed, and I was in the hospital for almost a month, and then in rehab for another three weeks. It was the worst few months of my life.”

“And afterward, she wasn’t the same for a while.” Corey tucked her more securely under his chin. “Neither of us was. I was mad as hell, but I couldn’t figure out who to hit, you know? And El here, she cried at the drop of a hat, and my girl’s not a weeper. I was frustrated that I could never say the right thing—or it felt that way—and she was scared I might leave her.” He huffed out a breath. “As if.”

“We finally talked to a counselor, and that helped. And I had to take some breathing room to get over everything that had happened. That wasn’t easy, because I didn’t want Corey to think I was running away from
him
—I wasn’t—I just needed to get my head screwed on straight again.”

“Yeah, I see.” I turned my plate in small revolutions, staring at the tiny flowers that adorned the edges. “I want to say you’re wrong. I want to say Nate’s wrong, but the bottom line is that I’m going to do anything and everything to get it right this time. So if Quinn has to wait a few months before we can give it a try, I’ll try to be patient.”

“If you need help or advice, we’re here.” Corey winked at me.

“Hey, if you guys keep treating me this good, I’ll be over every night. Hell, I’ll move in.” I laughed and pushed myself back from the table a little. “But for now, I think I need to hit the road. I’m going in for a training session first thing in the morning, and five thirty AM isn’t going to feel good if I stay out too late tonight.”

“True enough.”

Corey retrieved my coat from the hall closet, and Ellie gathered me into a quick hug. “You remember what I said. You know the way now. Don’t forget to use it.”

“Thanks again for everything. You two are the best.” I waved over my shoulder as I jogged down the front concrete steps to where my car waited at the curb. It was cold, and when I breathed in, I thought I smelled snow. We hadn’t had any down here yet . . . and the way the locals carried on about the possibility of it, I wondered if they knew how to deal with the white stuff.

I let the car warm up for a few minutes while I checked my phone. Sitting in that warm and welcoming house with Cory and his beautiful wife had made me homesick for something I’d never known. It had made me more sharply aware of how much I missed Quinn and how badly I wanted her with me. I wanted her to organize my mostly-sparse kitchen, to change around the living room, to put her makeup and hair crap all over the bedroom and bathroom . . . I wanted to trip over her heels, which she invariably kicked off the minute she came into the house. I just wanted the life I knew we could have.

I opened up my text app and skimmed down to her name. Our last few interactions had been generic and boring—me checking on her every once in a while, and Quinn’s vague answers.
Everything’s fine here.
That told me nothing.

When I’d played in Philadelphia a few weeks back, I’d had dinner after the game with my parents, Carrie Russell and Mark and Sheri. We’d kept the conversation light, steering away from the Nate and Quinn topic, but my mother had pulled me aside later to say that Nate was going downhill fast. They weren’t sure he’d make it to Christmas.

Yet Quinn had never told me that.

I wasn’t in any state tonight to risk calling her or even texting with her. I knew I’d be too tempted to beg her to . . . what? Leave Nate? Let me come to her? Promise me something that neither of us was in a position yet to even mention? No, that would be disastrous.

So instead, I scrolled down until I found the name I was looking for and tapped out a brief message.

Leo:
Hey, Zelda. Leo here. Just wondering if you’ve heard from Quinn lately.

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. A few moments later, her response appeared.

Zelda:
I saw her a couple of weeks ago, the night the Rebels played in Philly. Gia and I spent the night with her. She’s okay. Best she could be under the circumstances. We text every day.

Knowing Quinn had been with friends that night made me feel a little better. I’d felt her absence all during dinner with our parents.

Leo:
Thanks. How’s Nate?

The reply was swift and cuttingly to the point.

Zelda:
Dying.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. Of course he was. But what I wanted to know I couldn’t ask over the phone, and definitely not via text. Was he in pain, or at peace? Was Quinn doing okay at this point, or was she suffering along with him? Should I be up there, or would my presence make everything harder for both of them?

I finally decided to keep it simple.

Leo:
If she needs me, or if you think I need to be there for either of them, tell me please. I don’t know the right thing to do anymore.

There wasn’t any answer. After waiting a few minutes, I put the car in gear and pulled away from the Iversons’ house, heading into the pitch dark of the country roads that wound between where they lived and my own gated townhouse community.

I’d just climbed out of my car in my own garage when the phone buzzed again.

Zelda:
I will. I promise.

I blew out a breath and stretched my neck. This was all I could ask Zelda to do, and I couldn’t bring myself to put yet another burden on Gia, not when she was still struggling to stay upright with her own issues. I was about to slide my phone back into my pocket when the second part of Zelda’s message came through.

Zelda:
She’s doing fine, Leo. Try not to worry about her too much. Quinn is strong, and she’s holding up. Be there for her after. She’s going to need us all then.

As if any power in heaven or on earth could keep me away.

Life Is Eternal
by Carly Simon

 

 

W
inter used to be my favorite time at the shore. Ocean City was nearly a ghost town during December, compared to how it was in the middle of summer; the locals were there, but thanks to the biting cold and damp air, most of us stayed indoors unless it was absolutely necessary. I loved having the beach to myself, or just about, when my parents and I would come down before Christmas. The ocean seemed wilder, loud and forbidding, the sand was blown into peaks and valleys, and I often found shells I didn’t at other times of the year.

But this year, the creeping gray of each new dawn felt threatening instead of comforting. It seemed that death drew nearer every hour, no matter how much I tried to ignore it. I’d fought against the sense of impending doom by going absolutely crazy with my Christmas decorating; we had a huge tree in the great room, and then I’d also bought a smaller artificial one for Nate’s room. He didn’t venture beyond his bed anymore, but he’d smiled faintly when I’d plugged in the lights for the first time.

Sheri had hauled down all their family ornaments and special decorations. She and I had made a big show of hanging the ornaments on Nate’s tree as she’d told the story behind each one. She was determined to include her son, but although she ended every sentence by saying, “Right, Nate?” or “Remember that, sweetie?” he rarely responded beyond a slight nod or a wisp of a smile.

With each day, as Nate began to retreat and fade, Sheri stepped up her frantic gaiety. She played Christmas music around the clock, baked cookies, made candy and addressed Christmas cards as though this were just another holiday season. If I hadn’t seen the bleak desperation behind her eyes, I might have been angry, but I’d realized early on that Sheri was dealing with everything in her own way. So I was patient with her as much as I could be. I helped with the cookies, and I hummed along to the carols until I was fairly sure we’d listened to every damn version of
Jingle Bells
that existed.

Mark was down with us as often as he could be. I’d overheard the two of them arguing one night when I couldn’t sleep; they were on the deck, but the walls were thin, and their voices carried. Sheri wanted Mark to take a leave of absence from work and spend these weeks with us, down in Ocean City. Mark wasn’t ready to do that yet.

“Maybe it makes me a coward, Sher, but sometimes the only thing that gets me through being here is the thought that I get to leave.” I’d heard the anguish and guilt in his tone, and my eyes had filled with tears. “I know you have to be with Nate as much as you can. But God,
God
, watching him die is fucking tearing me apart. So you do what you have to do to cope, to get through it, and I’ll do what I have to do. And we’ll be here for each other. Okay? Right now, you don’t need me here. When you do, you tell me, and I promise I’ll come running. But until then, please, Sher. Don’t make me sit and watch.”

I’d crept back to bed, unwilling to hear them debate anymore. When Mark left the next morning, it was clear to me who’d won for now.

But as much as Sheri jealously guarded each second with her son, I’d noticed that she always found a way to be out when the hospice nurse came by. At first, the nurse was only there two or three times a week, but as the days began to shorten the further into December we drifted, one or another of the nurses visited daily. They’d offered us the services of a certified nurse’s aide as well, to stay during the day or night in case we needed help with any of Nate’s medication or comfort care, but between Sheri and me, we were able to handle everything. At this point, it was only a matter of keeping him calm and comfortable, and since he slept most of the time, that wasn’t difficult.

About a week before Christmas, Sheri had conveniently run out to the post office when Jacey, the hospice nurse who managed Nate’s case, made her visit. I sat in the room as she examined Nate, and we kept up our regular banter, with both of us teasing Nate and talking to him, even when he didn’t really respond.

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