9. Quinn
9
QUINN
M y little house off of Pine Street feels really quiet tonight. Usually, I relish the peace after a long day, especially after I’ve spent it among a lot of people. Even after I light the apple cinnamon candles and plug in the Christmas tree, I can’t shake off the sense of melancholy that follows me as I curl up on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate.
Nothing appeals to me on television, not even the holiday movies that I usually treasure so much. I keep replaying the day over in my head and wishing I’d ended things differently with Alex.
But what could I have said? What should I have done?
I’m not sure if I forgive him for the way he behaved in high school, but at the same time, I’m not sure if I believe I’m remembering things right.
Setting my hot cocoa down on the coffee table, I sink back against the sofa cushions and think hard about those years again, difficult as it is.
The ridicule still rings in my ears, the taunting over my braces and my bookish nature by the so-called “jocks” on the football team. Alex was among them, but had he really done anything?
My phone chimes from the kitchen where it’s charging, and I stand to answer the text.
Quinn?
I don’t recognize the number, but I intuitively know it’s Alex. My heart flutters.
Me: Yes?
Alex: It’s Alex. I got your number from Edna. I hope you don’t mind.
Hesitating, I peer at the screen, unsure how I feel about him reaching out to me like this.
Me: It’s fine.
There’s a slight pause, and I wait, leaning my hip against the counter as I wait for him to say something, but instead of a response, the phone rings, causing me to jump. My ringtone, “Holly Jolly Christmas,” filters through the kitchen and scares me. I laugh shakily as I answer.
“Hello?”
“Sorry, I hope this isn’t out of line,” Alex says quickly. “And I don’t want you to say anything, but I want you to hear me say this, with my words in my voice. I didn’t want to text it.”
“Okay…?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said today, and you’re right. I didn’t do anything to stop my friends when they were picking on you back in high school. Maybe it’s because I didn’t think it was a big deal, or maybe it’s because I was selfish and self-absorbed, but it was wrong, and I own it. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way, and I’m sorry for the part I played in that.”
“Alex—”
“No, wait, please, let me get this out before I forget what I wanted to say,” he pleads, and I exhale.
“Go ahead.”
“I never thought of myself as a bully or someone who was that guy in high school, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I was probably projecting my own insecurities on other people. It’s not an excuse—that’s not what this is. I just want you to know that I’m seeing things more clearly now that you’ve brought it up. And thank you for that.”
I blink, confounded by his gratitude. I wasn’t expecting a thanks.
“I really like you, Quinn, and I get the sense that if we didn’t have this history, you might like me, too. The truth is, I’m a work in progress, but I like to think I’m getting better every day. We all have things we need to work on, I guess.”
He draws in a deep breath through the phone, and I wait.
“Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” I reassure him, touched by his confession. “I’m just not sure what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he reiterates. “This was just something I needed to say to you. I won’t bother you again. You have my number now, if you want to talk again, and if not, I’ll see you around town.”
I gulp back the lump of emotion in my throat. A part of me wants to tell him that all is forgiven, that I’m over it all, but I can’t, not yet.
“Thank you for that, Alex,” I murmur. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“I look forward to that,” he says, trying to mask his disappointment, but I can hear it clearly.
We say goodbye, and I hang up, retreating to my spot in the living room with my hot chocolate, my eyes trained on the blinking lights of the Christmas tree. A flash of Alex with the dog at the park bounces through my mind, the way his face lit up when the dog bounded toward us. His silly banter and wry jokes filter through my mind’s ear, wafts of his cologne still lingering in my nostrils… along with his lips on mine.
I want to pursue this, to trust that the man I saw today, whom I bonded with over that scavenger hunt, is the real Alex Roth. But I have to let go of the past to do that.
I did let those kids win today, I remind myself dryly, taking a long sip of drink. Maybe I can change, too.
The warmth of the cocoa floods my insides, and my shoulders relax slightly, as if my guard is lowering.
Mom calls me the next day, waking me from a fitful sleep.
“Some boy from your high school called here looking for you,” she informs me excitedly. Bleary-eyed, I sit up and look at the blazing green numbers on my alarm clock.
“Mom, it’s seven o’clock in the morning!” I groan. “And I don’t have to work today!”
“I’ve been up for hours,” she replies, as if this should be everyone’s problem. “Did you hear what I said?”
Her original words hit me. “What? Who? Alex Roth?” I demand, suddenly wide awake.
“No,” she says. “Some other man… Calvin Bury?—”
“Kevin Bury?” I choke, sitting straight up, the duvet falling away from my body. Blood drains out of my face. “What did he want?”
“I just told you, honey. You need to start taking better vitamins, Quinny. You’re just not that alert. Maybe something higher in iron—or B12. That should help.”
“Mom!”
“He was looking for you.”
My pulse roars in my ears. “No, I heard that, but what did Kevin say specifically? What did he want?”
“Oh… nothing. I mean, I don’t know. He called late last night—after eight—and left a message on the voicemail. He wants you to call him back when you have a minute. Why would someone call here looking for you, Quinn? You haven’t lived here in years.”
Kevin Bury wouldn’t know that. He moved out of Holly Ridge after high school when he got a football scholarship.
“Text me the number, Mom,” I breathe shakily, my palms suddenly sweaty.
“All right, dear. Are you going to the festival tonight?”
“Uh, yeah. Can I call you later?” I mumble. “I have to call you back.”
“Make sure you do. And eat a banana, Quinn. I bet you’re low in potassium.”
“Okay, Mom.”
We hang up, and a second later, a text from my mom comes in with Kevin’s phone number. He has a Seattle area code, which gives me a modicum of relief. At least he’s not back in Holly Ridge.
My first instinct is to call Alex and ask him why his former best friend is calling me out of the blue, but I don’t. I know full well that Alex has something to do with it, but I also don’t know if I’m prepared to speak with Alex again so soon. Plus, it’s still first thing in the morning. A fusion of dread and anticipation washes over me as I rise and shower, waiting for a decent time before returning Kevin’s call.
He answers right away.
“Hello?”
“Uh… hi… it’s Quinn Tanner. You left a message at my parents’ place?”
“Quinn!” He sounds relieved, as if he’s just gotten in touch with a long-lost friend and not someone he used to torment regularly. “How are you? It’s been ages!”
I sink onto a chair in my kitchen and stare out the back door. The light snow from yesterday has let up, creating a sparkling diamond dust over my modest backyard, but I barely see any of it. My mind whirls as I try to imagine how this conversation is going to play out.
“I’m fine.”
“Good, good,” he says, and I note the hint of anxiety in his voice for the first time. “I bet you’re wondering why I’m calling.”
I say nothing, sweat breaking out over my brow line.
“Look, Quinn,” he sighs, abruptly losing the jovial, fake tone. “I know we acted like real jerks in high school. Me and half the football team. We weren’t nice to you. We weren’t nice to a lot of people.”
I remain silent, my fingers picking at the edge of the tabletop, nail scraping over the gleaming wood as I bite on my lower lip.
Is he really calling to apologize?
It’s hard to breathe.
“I talked to Alex Roth yesterday,” he continues, confirming what I already suspected. “And he told me you’re harboring a bit of a grudge.”
I bristle at his assessment, my eyes narrowing. “That’s not true,” I tell him coldly. “I don’t think about you at all.”
Kevin sighs. “That’s fair,” he agrees. “I wouldn’t want to remember some of the stuff we did, either. But we were young and dumb. Don’t take it personally, Quinn. It was just teenage stuff. Everyone does it.”
Heat rises up my neck, and my hand closes into a fist as I lean forward against the table. “You know, Kevin, that’s just not true,” I argue. “I’m actually a teacher now, and I know for a fact that kids don’t inherently act like jerks.”
“Oh, come on—” he argues, but I cut him off.
“All kids will push boundaries,” I continue. “They will question authority, and sometimes, they will single out those they don’t understand, but with the right guidance and accountability, they don’t become bullies. That’s what makes them decent adults, Kevin. Accountability. I think you still have something to learn about that. Thanks for reaching out, though.”
I hang up before he can respond, my body shaking as I try to compose myself. Swallowing, I steel my breath.
He’s exactly the same guy he was in high school. He hasn’t changed at all! Did he call to make himself feel better?
But as I think about it, I realize something else, and my pulse slowly returns to normal, a deep calm washing over me. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, I pick up the phone again, but before I can dial out, it rings in my hands.
It’s Alex this time, and I answer on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Please don’t hang up on me,” he pleads. “You must be upset, but hear me out. I thought Kevin was going to make amends and do the right thing. I don’t know what he said, but I honestly thought it would make things better, not worse.”
A smile curves over my lips as I settle back in the chair. “Why would I hang up on you?”
Alex hesitates. “I thought you’d be furious I spoke to him about you.”
“No, Alex,” I reassure him. “In fact, I’m really glad you did.”
“You… you are?” he asks uncertainly.
“Yes. It made me realize that some people never really change.”
The silence between us is longer now. “I really am sorry, Quinn,” he mutters tensely. “I thought I was doing the right thing. My mind was working on a way to make things better between us.”
I gasp as I realize he’s misconstrued what I said. “I meant Kevin, not you,” I laugh. “He’s the one who hasn’t changed. You’ve changed a lot, and that phone call made me realize how much people can grow. I hope I have, too.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not mad,” I repeat. “And it doesn’t matter that I didn’t get an apology from Kevin. I don’t really need it. I have moved on… and I want to keep moving forward. Looking back, dwelling on the past—it doesn’t change anything.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he drawls.
I close my eyes and take the plunge before I can change my mind. “How would you feel about having dinner with me tonight before going to the festival?”
There’s a half second hesitation, as if I’ve caught him off guard, but Alex responds with gusto.
“That would be a hard feeling to put into words, Quinn,” he replies, and I titter. “What time should I pick you up?”
I falter at the bold offer, but I started it. I am putting myself out there now, and there’s no going back.
“Five?” I propose. “It will give us time to eat and walk around the festival a bit.”
“Text me the address,” he agrees. “And Quinn?”
“Hm?”
“Thanks for giving me another shot.”
“Ditto,” I reply.