Chapter 56 Sonya
SONYA
“He’s always looked at you, you know.” Quinn hands me a glass of pink lemonade. “But now I see you’re looking back.”
I could pretend I don’t know who he’s talking about, but across the backyard, Adrian waves eagerly at us.
I shield my face, pretending not to see—but really, I’m covering a smile that threatens to curve my lips up. Until he pouts. Then I give him a barely-there two-finger wave.
“Does he make you happy?” Quinn wonders, watching me closely.
I choke on my lemonade. “We haven’t said or labeled anything—”
“That wasn’t what I wanted to know.”
No, it wasn’t.
Sid shrieks with laughter. Them and Adrian are taking turns spraying each other with water guns, and I know from the way he keeps sneaking looks in my direction, he wants to invite me over.
This man. This ridiculous and nonsensical man. Compared to him, I’m logic-driven and moody. Often scowling and needing to be coaxed out of an antisocial shell. And…
None of that answers what my brother is asking me.
I cough a single word into my hand. “Yes.”
He does, somehow and paradoxically, make me happy. And I…want to make him happy. What that equates to, I’m trying not to overthink, or, really, think about even. Even if I am thinking about it, almost all the time.
Quinn hooks an arm around my shoulders for five seconds. A flash of a squeeze like usual as if he’s always making sure he doesn’t overdo the gesture and overwhelm me. “That’s all that matters. Your happiness.”
I pat his arm. “…I appreciate that.”
For the next few minutes, we watch the party unfold.
There’s a gazebo with seating fit for a hockey team, plus more, and what’s probably the largest barbecue contraption ever built, firing up more food.
It’s like four barbecues melted into one mega-grill.
Then there’s a busy side games area, complete with a DIY backyard bowling lane, mega dice piled on the grass, and this multi-hued Jenga tower rising tall.
String lights are being turned on early because the glow is nice while more plates loaded with burgers are being handed out. Everyone’s been chatting, playing, and giving each other casual hugs. Some of Adrian’s sisters are flirting with the players, so the sound of laughter fills the air.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask Quinn.
“Always.”
“Did you ever have this feeling when we were younger?” I clasp my fingers together.
“You know, the one where you catch sight of someone else’s life and can’t help but window-shop it.
When you press your nose against the glass and dream about it being yours, not knowing how much of what you see is real or not.
” A breath. “None of it could be, but that doesn’t stop you from wondering what it would be like if you could switch places or—not even that— just ask to come inside and stay for a while.
” I chew on my lip, rocking back on my heels.
“How… How do I know if I belong or it’s a temporary dream? ”
“Wait here.”
I watch him go grab his jacket from the back of a chair. He rifles inside a pocket and takes out his wallet.
Coming back next to me, his fingers have a slight tremble when he pulls out a folded square.
I can’t properly see, but I’m scowling. “Are you trying to give me money?”
“No!” He holds out his hand. “You asked how you know if you belong. Actions. They speak louder than words. When people want you around, when you really matter to them, they show you in a way you can’t mistake.”
He starts unfolding the square.
It’s not a square at all.
In his hands is a falling apart, faded, preciously kept, crayon-colored crown.
My hand flies to my mouth.
“I’m sorry I left,” says Quinn, his light brown eyes damp pools of regret. “I don’t think I’ve said that nearly enough, Sonya.”
“No.” I exhale shakily. “You were taken away.”
“To a little kid, it still felt like I left you, right?”
Since Team Nutcracker’s conclusions and after Adrian came over to my apartment, I’ve been trying a few more recommendations from the report.
Between practicing in the studio, of course.
Like I’ve journaled. At first it was painstakingly hard and irritating, but after a while, I couldn’t stop.
I’m unpacking, one of the things being my childhood…
“I was so mad,” I babble out, my confession muffled between my fingers. “I hated you for so long, because we were supposed to be f-forever siblings, and then you left. You just left.”
His posture stoops. “I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
I’m grabbing my wallet from my purse, unzipping a pocket and digging out my own memory. It’s not a full crown, but a broken off jewel from the one he made for me on my ninth birthday.
I show him.
Quinn recognizes it instantly and staggers back. “You kept a part of it, Sonya?”
I inhale, this soft stuttering sound. “I liked being mad, because it was easier to blame you than to miss you, but I never stopped. Missing you.”
Both of us are rubbing our eyes.
“Making those crowns is my second happiest memory with you, Quinn.” I pause and steady myself for the longest time. “…the first being when you found me again.”
He’s thunderstruck. His warm brown eyes take on a very vulnerable look.
A single tear rolls down my cheek that I quickly wipe away. “I don’t think I ever said this, but thank you. And also I’m sorry. Ever since you found me, I know I haven’t let myself open back up to you properly.”
“Don’t say sorry, Sonya. Not to me. I get it.” Understanding passes over his features. “I hurt you when we were little. Badly. You don’t want to risk feeling like that again.”
I rub my nose with the back of my other hand and shake my head. “That’s not fair of me though. It wasn’t your fault, so I’m not going to let fear keep stopping me. Not anymore. You’re always going to be my big brother.”
On his scarred face, an expression of wondrous boyish happiness spreads. As if I’ve celebrated his birthday a hundred times over. I feel like I’m looking at eleven-year-old him, and I’m nine-year-old me.
“I love you,” rasps Quinn. His throat is working up and down and his eyebrows have pulled together.
I mumble rapid-fire fast, “Yeah-same-you-too.”
Then before I can second guess myself, I hug him. Properly. Fully. With my whole weight. Something I haven’t done for a really long time.
Quinn lifts me off the ground, he hugs me back so tightly.
Across the backyard, Adrian is smiling at us. Like he couldn’t be happier.
My eyes blur with unshed tears, but I blink them away.
So many things have led us to this point, and for their part in that, I don’t loathe the day I fell on stage and the yips invaded my life.
I’m still not cured and my audition is in little over a week, but this?
This feels like a different kind of healing. One that’s long overdue.
Afterwards, Quinn watches me amble around for a bit, then divert to where I really want to go. Adrian hands me his water gun and opens his arms wide.
I high-five Sid and we blast Adrian with water.
Then I join Adrian’s sisters. They’re offering me way too much food and promising to show me all of their brother’s awkward teenage pictures. I vow to save them on my phone for blackmail.
More stories are shared, some even from me.
I get multiple invitations to come over whenever I want for dinner, even if Adrian isn’t with me.
My stomach does a slow roll hearing them, because maybe I think I could say yes. Maybe I think I would like that very much.