12. Kelsey
Chapter twelve
Kelsey
Arlene opened the door for me with a big smile on her face.
“There you are, dear. How nice that you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t miss the party of the year,” I said, but as I stepped inside, I realized the party of the year was pretty… quiet. The only other guest already there was Quentin, who was sitting on Arlene’s couch, holding a bowl of chips on his lap, looking awkward.
Arlene had dimmed the lights, and “Life is a Highway” was playing on a metallic-sounding stereo that looked like it was a relic from the nineties.
“Am I too early?” I asked, confused, as Arlene led me over to the table with snacks and drinks.
“No, not at all. The others must be running late.” Arlene sounded chipper and seemed completely unfazed by the low attendance. “Why don’t you grab a beer and sit with Quentin over there? He looks pretty bored all alone. I’ll be in the kitchen. The cheese platter needs some last touches. ”
I took two bottles of beer, one for me, one for Quentin, and strolled over to him. Just a few weeks ago, I would have avoided that man like the plague, but I was actually happy to see him.
“Hey there, stranger. Is that seat still free?”
“No, sorry. There’s a reservation,” he joked.
A joke! Now that was unusual for him. I laughed as I handed him the bottle. “Scoot over.”
He made some room for me on the small loveseat and offered me the bowl.
I grabbed a handful of chips and looked around. “This is the perfect party for an introvert. You must love it here.”
He let out an exasperated sigh though I could tell he wasn’t really annoyed with me. “You know, this might surprise you, but I actually like most people.”
“Even me?”
He laughed. “On your good days.”
“Good enough. I’ll take it.”
We talked a bit about the everlasting heat wave, his students, and my customers at the diner. When I finished my story about the geriatric gentleman who came into the diner every Tuesday with his walker and his college-aged wife, I realized that no one else had arrived at the party in the meantime. It was still just the two of us.
“Funny no one else is here yet,” I said. “Arlene told me it starts at seven. How late is it now?”
“I don’t know.” He turned around. “Arlene, what time is it? Arlene?”
Nobody answered.
I sat up straight and called out for her, too. “Arlene?”
But the only sound was the pop-rock tune from the stereo .
I stood up to check the kitchen, but Arlene was nowhere in sight. Instead, I found two plates of freshly made spaghetti with meatballs on the counter.
Quentin had followed me into the kitchen. He stood in the doorframe and looked confused. “Where is she? I didn’t notice her leaving.”
I shrugged, but it had already dawned on me what was happening. Arlene had snuck out, not before lighting a romantic candle on the dining table, as I realized just that moment.
This wasn’t a party. It was a date, one that neither Quentin nor I had agreed to.
Now, Quentin noticed the candle too. “Wait,” he said, “Is this supposed to be a…”
“Oh no!” I covered my face with my hands as I felt myself flush. “Oh no, no, no.”
“She’s set us up.” He sounded tense.
I scrunched my face in embarrassment. “Oh God, this is terrible.”
Quentin’s expression changed quickly. His jaw clenched and his brows furrowed. “Okay, thank you very much.” I could clearly hear the hurt and bitterness in his voice.
Before I fully realized what had happened, Quentin had put his beer down on the kitchen counter with a loud clink and was walking away.
“No, that’s not what I meant!” I went after him. “Quentin, that’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, I know what you meant,” he said without turning around.
“No, wait. Stop.”
“It’s fine. I’m used to it. I get that a lot.”
I grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him to face me. “Quentin, stop it. ”
His eyes were fixed on a spot a few inches above my head, but I could see the pain in his eyes, and I hated that I had caused it. I searched for something to say, something to fix this.
“Look, Arlene made all this food for us,” I said slowly. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
He raised his gaze but remained silent, his mouth still a hard line.
“Eat with me?” I looked at him hopefully. I had no idea where this was going because what I had told Arlene was true. I didn’t want to date Quentin. I couldn’t date Quentin. But I didn’t want him to leave with that sad-puppy look on his face, either.
“Come on,” I coaxed, “Just a little friendly meatball dinner? There are divorce papers waiting for me at my apartment. I don’t want to go home yet.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “Arlene does make good meatballs.”
So we sat down to eat. We needed a moment to get over the initial awkwardness of the situation, but soon enough, we got back into the conversation.
“You weren’t lying. Those are good meatballs,” I said between two bites.
“They’re in a different league, compared to what they serve in the school cafeteria.”
“You eat in the school cafeteria? With the students?”
He laughed. “Not if I can help it. The food there is one step above prison rations.”
The mental image of Quentin, always proper and often a little stiff, in a high school cafeteria, surrounded by unruly, loudmouthed kids, made me grin. “Did you always want to be a teacher?” I asked.
Quentin nodded. “Yes, since I was a teenager.”
“So, why join the military instead? ”
“Money,” he said simply.
“Really?”
“Do you think I’m from some rich, posh family?”
“You told me you went to one of those fancy universities.” I realized too late that it sounded like an accusation, but I couldn’t help it. Every time I was reminded of how much smarter Quentin was than me, I got defensive.
He must have picked up on it because his tone sounded very guarded. “We were never rich to begin with, and when my father died, my mother really struggled. She took a second job. I barely saw her, but she had the medical bills from my father’s treatment to pay off. I secured a few scholarships, but it still wasn’t enough. Joining the army was the only option I could think of to go to college.” He paused for a moment. “And the army did pay for my college. But the price I had to pay was a lot higher than eighteen-year-old me could’ve imagined.”
His shoulders slumped, and a heavy weight settled over us.
Feeling a surge of sadness, I took a heavy breath. His scars were a visible reminder of his sacrifice, but that wasn’t all. Unseen wounds, trauma, and pain lay beneath the surface, forever changing the person he once was.
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Quentin.” My words sounded like an empty phrase, but I hoped he understood I really meant it.
He tried to shrug his vulnerability off but wasn’t quite successful.
“What about you?” he asked. His voice sounded more hoarse than usual.
“What about me?”
“What about your family? Your parents?”
I laughed a joyless laugh. “A shitshow from start to finish.”
“That bad? ”
“I don’t know. The classic story, I guess? Dad cheated on Mom. Mom cheated on Dad. Dad left the family when I was in second grade. For a while, he visited a few times a year, and then that stopped too. I haven’t heard from him in a decade. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”
“And your mother?”
“Worse.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Worse than the father who left you?”
“Believe me, there were times during my childhood when I wished she would just leave me too. I liked to imagine I would go live with some secret rich relatives on a big ranch or in some magical old manor. Silly kid stuff.”
He looked at me with sympathy. “It must’ve been very bad then.”
I leaned back in my chair. “There’s a long list of reasons why she should never have been a mother. She drinks too much, and she gets angry when she drinks. She’s terrible with money. She can’t keep a job down because she always gets wrapped up in some stupid workplace drama. She’s selfish, she’s lazy, and she’s a textbook case of a narcissist. I moved out as fast as I could.”
“Good for you.”
“Oh, don’t say that. I was a mess. Turns out I have a lot of the same vices she has.”
He cocked his head and looked at me intently. “I don’t know about that, Kelsey, but if it’s true, you’ve overcome them. Look at you. You’re doing great.”
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. “I’m doing great? I work two minimum-wage jobs, and I need you holding my hand just to pass my stupid GED.”
“Nothing wrong with a friend giving you a leg up when you have to start your journey from rock bottom.”
“A friend? ”
“At least, I hope we’re friends?” he asked, trying to sound playful, but I could hear the insecurity in his voice.
I didn’t have to think twice. A few weeks before, that man had made my blood boil, but now, I was looking forward to our Thursday sessions the entire week. “Yes, Quentin. We are friends.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes lit up in a way that made it hard for me not to stare at him and grin like an idiot.
Then we both went quiet. He looked at me, and I looked at him. Not his scars, not his injuries—I looked into his eyes, those warm, brown, intelligent eyes that had seen so much pain yet still radiated so much kindness. And I saw a flicker of something else, something that made my face flush and my heart beat faster. Friends. Was that really the way a friend would look at me? That moment, as we silently sat at the table, felt so much more intimate than a friendship. It felt like we’d both peeled away a bunch of layers and exposed ourselves to each other. I tried opening my mouth to continue the conversation, but no words came to me, so I closed it again. Quentin swallowed. Then he cleared his throat.
“Kelsey,” he said. The raspy sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
“Yes?” My gaze got drawn away from his eyes, toward his lips, and an idiotic thought crossed my mind. What would happen if we kissed? Would that really be such a terrible thing?
He shifted in his seat. Was I imagining that, or was he breathing very fast?
“Kelsey, I—”
Before he could even start the sentence, a noise startled us both. I nearly jolted out of my chair at the sound of a key being turned in a lock. A moment later, the door flew open, and Leah waltzed in. “Granny, do you have any more toilet pa— ”
Leah froze at the sight of Quentin and I sitting at the table, a suspiciously romantic candle the only light in the dark room.
“Where is my grandmother?” Leah looked at us, confused, as she turned on the overhead light. I felt almost disoriented by the sudden bright lights. “And what are you two doing here?”
I looked at Quentin, but he’d already jumped up from his chair like he’d been caught committing a crime. He couldn’t muster more than an awkward “Um.”
In my haste to get up, I nearly knocked the plate off the table. “So, your grandma invited us to this party, but—”
Leah laughed. “It was a setup! I told you this would happen, Kel.”
I forced myself to laugh along with her, sounding like a panicked hyena.
“Yep. She set us up for a date,” I said, plastering a pathetically fake grin on my face.
Leah’s laugh died down. She furrowed her brows. “And you two just decided to… go with it?”
Quentin raised his hands. “As friends. Entirely platonic.”
Leah crossed her arms. “Platonic, huh?”
He stiffly fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Platonic. That means the absence of romantic—”
“I know what it means, Quentin.” Leah still didn’t look convinced.
“We didn’t want to waste all this food,” I added. Not very helpful.
“Yes. And in fact, we were just finished.” He motioned toward our empty plates. “I was just about to leave.”
Quentin awkwardly rubbed his hands together. “Well, I’m going to leave now, then. Good night.”
And with that, he basically fled Arlene’s apartment .
Leah watched him leave, and as soon as the door closed behind him, she turned back to me. “So… do you want to tell me what this was really about?”