Page 123 of Through Quick and Quinn
The night continued as the mothers headed to the backyard to check out the garden and chat in the pleasant evening air. The fathers stepped into the garage to “talk shop,” whatever that meant. To see our parents effortlessly forming what seemed to be organic friendships made the evening better than either Quick or I could have imagined. We plopped ourselves on the couch with a happy sigh, both of us quieted by the pure contentment. Suddenly, Quick jumped up and shouted, “Oh! I have a gift for you!” He ran upstairs, taking the flight two at a time, and I took the opportunity to retrieve the gift I had for him from the bag I had placed by the front door. I always tried to honor his aversion to gifts, so I came up with something simple. As silly as it seemed to give someone a 9-volt battery for graduation, I knew Quick would appreciate it when he read the accompanying page I meticulously designed for his Life Lessons book: Stay Charged and Follow Your Dreams.
He hugged me so tightly when he accepted his gift and told me he cherished it like all of the others, but when I saw the small black box he then placed in my hands, I knew my gift for him paled in comparison to what I was about to see. I slowly opened the velvet case and laid eyes upon a treasure like no other. Quick carefully removed the silver necklace and nodded at me, silently messaging for me to position myself so that he could place the necklace. I corralled my hair and placed it above my head as he gingerly clasped the jewelry around my neck. “Do you like it?” he gently asked, and I looked down to see the attached pendant for the first time. It felt as though time stopped, but the tears streaming down my face proved that it had not.
Blue opals. Stones of compatibility and harmony, of opportunity and ingenuity, of peace and healing.
White sapphire. Stones of intention and clarity, of focus and enlightenment, of spirituality and inner wisdom.
Two perfectly chosen stones, delicately crafted into a majestic dragonfly. My majestic dragonfly.
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Hey Geoffrey,
Summer is blowing by way too fast. Quinn’s birthday is right around the corner, and then bam, a few weeks later, she leaves and I start school. No matter how much time we spend together, it never seems to be enough. Doesn’t matter if it’s only the two of us, if we’re with our folks, hers, or both. Doesn’t matter if we’re on a hike or watching a movie. Doesn’t matter if we get on the phone as soon as we can after saying good-bye. It’s never enough time.
Whether I’m with her or not, I’m thinking about the next chapter. It’s constantly on my brain. And as much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, Quinn and I are going to need to take a step back when she leaves. Amidst all these huge life changes, it places way too much pressure for her to have to maintain a relationship that spans 3000 miles. She needs to be focused on her thermography program, on her business classes, on making new connections, and on discovering her adult self. If she feels like she has to get back to her place so she can FaceTime me or whatever, she will not only end up stunting herself but she’ll resent me for it. And I can’t have that.
My head and my heart have been on the battlefield with one another about this for weeks now, but I know this is the right call. And now it’s just a matter of telling her, and hopefully getting her to see that it comes from a place of love.
Besides, who’s to say she isn’t thinking the exact same thing? That she’s not sitting at home right now worried about breaking my heart? Chances are, we’ll be on the same page. We always are.
She needs to do her thing. I need to do mine. And maybe we’ll end up doing “our” thing together in the end. Or maybe not. We’re eighteen. What the hell do we know anyway? We’re amateurs at this thing called life and a lot can happen in a year or two. I mean, look at what happened in the last year or two. Right?
No matter what, she and I will always be connected in some way.
Like me and you.
-Deck
Tuesday, July 22, 2025
Note to self:
This day is hard every year, and I’m sure it will never be easy. This year, though, the anniversary of Troy’s death was especially difficult for us. I think my parents’ grief was compounded by the imminent empty nest, and my upcoming move to a distant, foreign land is definitely causing a knot in my stomach. What if I can’t sense Troy there? What if I feel disconnected from him? I know it sounds silly, but does it? What if my parents struggle even more in the quietness of the home? What if my absence makes his absence even more profound?
I know I shouldn’t spiral down the tunnel of hypotheticals, and I am usually pretty good about clawing my way out and redirecting my attention to the here and now of reality. In all fairness, though, this is the biggest change any of us have gone through since Troy passed away. And as much as I feel this path calling to me, and as much as I know God is waiting for me on it, I still have that dang knot in my stomach.
Well, to be completely honest, part of that knot is about Quick. For a verbose girl, I have no words for my feelings. To say that I love him seems like an understating cliche, but I really do love him. He is my best friend, but on a level deeper than I can comprehend, let alone articulate. Kissing aside, because yes, I do want to kiss him every single time I see him, my strongest feelings are those of companionship. We have experienced so many highs and lows together over the last two years. We’ve found ourselves as individuals, but so much so through being companions. Through conversations, through sob sessions, through laughter, through new hobbies, through surprises, through nightmares, through family woes, through school drama, through it all. And through every single one, we came out closer. Our friendship grew stronger. Every single time.
The “relationship” part made it a little messy, not that I regret it. It was bound to happen. But the timing? Ugh. Do I love him? Yes. Do I want to be with him? Yes. Right now. But I have no idea what awaits me in Florida, or what’s coming after that either. And when I think about missing him, it’s the friendship I think about first.
We have a hard conversation coming up, and we both know it. It’s okay. Neither one of us really shies away from those, especially not with each other. And at the end of the day, I know Quick and I will always be the best of friends. The friendship may look different; we may talk less frequently and see each other even less than that. But there is not a singular doubt in my mind that no matter what life throws at us, and no matter when, he and I would drop everything to be there for each other. Zero doubt. I am not worried about our friendship in the least.
His mom, on the other hand, just might be. She reached out to me last week, concerned about how Quick is going to handle my move to Florida. Through our conversation, we came up with the idea of getting him a dog. We went online to check out the abandoned pups at the nearby shelters and the instant we saw the picture of a sweet little guy named Jack, we agreed that we had to go meet him. He is what they call a “jug,” a half Jack Russell terrier, half pug. He is absolutely darling, with his apricot coat and brown stripe along his spine, his curly tail, and his dark brown floppy ears. I especially adored his huge underbite, and Mrs. Williams appreciated Jack’s calm demeanor.
The decision is not for me to make, but I’m really hoping Quick’s parents choose to bring Jack home for Quick. I think it would be good for him in so many ways, not to mention how great it would be for the little guy. Fingers crossed that when I leave in less than two weeks, he’ll have a new buddy waiting for him at the door.
…Q
Quick:
What I Knew
Quinn and her parents planned to leave at the crack of dawn on a Monday morning, given that they had a 3000-mile road trip ahead of them. As it was, I hadn’t seen too much of her in the week leading up to it. She was packing up her entire life, and while I did hang out with her for a bit, I understood that it was something she needed to do on her own. Packing’s a personal thing. I wouldn’t want someone in my space if I were doing it.
We planned to spend that Sunday together. Just her and I. All day. Starting at the crack of dawn. And it was such a given as to how we would spend it.
Hand in hand and walking ever so slowly, as though that would somehow prolong our time together, we meandered the trail to our favorite picnic spot. Barely a word was spoken as we ate our breakfast sandwiches. The peaceful quiet continued as we snuggled on the blanket to take in the sights and sounds of our waterfall. The cascading water was perfectly in tune with the tidal wave of memories that was gushing about in the sea of my mind.
