Page 78 of Infinite
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“Where are we going?” I ask as we’re driving in the opposite direction of Virginia Beach.
Quinn smirks as he taps his thumbs on the wheel. “North.”
“You realize that we live south, right?”
“You know, I heard that before.”
We pass the Welcome to New Jersey sign, and I sit up in my seat. “We’re going to Jersey?”
“That would be the plan.”
“Oh my God! Why?”
“When’s the last time you saw your mother?” Quinn asks.
It’s been far too long. I smile so wide I worry I might split my face. I miss my mother terribly. We talk a few times a week, and she’s figured out how much she loves texting. I swear, the woman overuses emoji’s like it’s her job. Every line has some sort of addition because she says it makes the text messages look pretty. I love her, but she’s a mess.
She’s asked me each day about therapy, and I reply—without emojis—with whatever happened. The amount of clapping hands I have gotten in the last week could create an encore. She’s definitely happy.
“Far too long. When did you decide we were going to do this?” I ask.
“When I decided this was what we were going to do today. I sent her a text on her fancy new iPhone and made sure I put a ton of food emojis.”
“Oh, Jesus. You’re encouraging this?’
“Your dad is doing it too.”
The fact that even with us in this weird not-together-but-kind-of-together relationship, he still texts my parents gives me so much happiness. He could’ve handled this all very differently. It’s a testament to the kind of man he is.
“You realize she’s trying to see if she can speak solely with them. Half the time, I feel like I’m playing some weird game where you have to deduce the statement.”
Quinn nods. “Oh, I know, she’s loving the eggplant one.”
Which, of course, means something else. “She’s Italian and loves eggplant.” When Quinn bursts out laughing, I have to clarify. “Oh my God! The real one! Like the vegetable!”
“You went there . . . I just laughed.”
I slap his arm. “Ass.”
Quinn goes quiet, but there’s a soft smile on his lips, almost as if he’s trying to keep it hidden.
“Why are you smiling?”
He glances over at me and then back to the road. “Because you’re laughing, smiling, talking, and calling me names. It’s like day by day you’re coming back to life.”
I fidget in my seat a little. “I’m trying.”
“I know you are.”
“It’s hard sometimes, but other times it isn’t hard at all.”
His hand moves to mine. “All I’m saying is that it makes me smile.”
“You make me smile, Quinn. Being around you, having you be as wonderful as you’ve been . . . it makes me feel like there’s a light at the end of this dark tunnel. I know I put you through hell, and if I could go back in time, I would. I feel grateful that, when you leave, at least there won’t be animosity between us.”
He nods as we both fall silent. I can see that he’s trying to figure out what to say and do. I keep throwing these curveballs, but I’m hoping he’ll take a swing at one.
