Page 27 of Through Quick and Quinn
I admitted to him that he was the first friend I had made in years, to which he surprised me with his response. “Yeah, I heard about the witch thing. That sucks, Quinn. I’m sorry. Where did that even come from?” Shrugging my shoulders, I divulged that it probably came from my crystals collection and my inner work with chakras, but that I didn’t really know exactly what triggered the rumor about me being a witch. I mentioned Mandy and that she was probably hurt by the sudden change in our friendship, not to mention that she thought my avocation was beyond strange.
“Human nature is to fear what we do not understand, so I get why she was uncomfortable. Maybe it was the perfect storm, you know? I was having, uh, a hard time of things which I think caused the slow dissolution of our friendship, and then there was the hurt or anger she was feeling, and the uneasiness she felt about my new interests… It makes sense that she lashed out.”
“Did it bother you?” Quick’s eyes were set on mine, concentrating on my disclosure with his full attention.
“At first, yeah. It was a rough summer that year, but I pushed through it. I dedicated myself to reflection, meditation, and healing. It took me a long time to realize that other people’s truths are not my responsibility. I can’t control what they are going to think, and at the end of the day, I just need to be good with who I am. I don’t need to be liked by everyone. Just the right ones. I don’t need to collect a bunch of empty and shallow friendships. Just the right ones. Does that make sense?” The words poured from my mouth so effortlessly, and I had no qualms about allowing myself to be vulnerable with Quick. “I will be understood by the right people at the right times throughout my journey. I trust in that, and it gives me comfort, you know?”
Quick let my words simmer in the atmosphere for a moment. He never seemed to be in a rush, especially when it came to conversation. I appreciated that when he spoke, he did so with contemplation and intention. “You are understood, Quinn. I understand you.”
The sentiment was so sincere that it pierced straight through to my heart. I gave him the most grateful of smiles but amicably countered, “I’m not sure you do quite yet, kind sir, but perhaps one day. You still have much to learn of me.”
“Ok, well then, I see you. How’s that? Better?” he winked.
I blushed. That was the physical response he was able to see. Luckily, the heart-stopping sensation was one I could keep to myself.
Perhaps because so much was communicated, both verbally and non, we quietly immersed ourselves in the nibbling of watermelon and the munching of crackers. I found it amazing how quickly the two of us passed the stage of awkward presence around one another, not to mention how swiftly we arrived at the stage of comfortable stillness. It was refreshing that neither of us felt the need to fill the space with unnecessary statements.
After quite some time and probably some inner deliberation, Quick cleared his throat. “Quinn, may I ask you something else?” I nodded, signaling him to continue. “The hard time you mentioned earlier… Was that somehow related to you being a non-only?”
My eyes instantly answered for me as they wistfully filled with tears. I didn’t blink, for fear that the tears would fall.
“I’m sorry, Quinn,” he said softly. As I looked at Quick, I could easily recognize that my eyes weren’t the only ones struggling to remain dry.
I took a deep breath and steadied myself. “Yeah, my brother Troy died when he was three months old. I was eight.” I dropped my gaze and let my head hang. We both silently understood that I was done sharing for the day. I closed my eyes and tried to redirect my focus to the present moment: the trickling water, the sun-kissed patches of warmth on my skin, the awareness of a profound leap in friendship. Respecting the moment, Quick quietly busied himself with packing up the food. When I could sense that he was nearly finished, I opened my eyes only to find him staring directly at me. His face looked different. It looked pained. And panicked.
“I gotta get back,” he stated matter-of-factly, gesturing for me to give him access to the picnic blanket below me. I watched him as he rushed to bundle up the blanket in a messy heap, a far cry from the way it was folded an hour before. He was fidgety and seemed so unsettled; it was actually quite difficult to watch.
I did not push him to talk on the walk back home. He had respected my space, and I wanted to do the same. In no way was I worried that I upset him, nor was I taking his sudden mood shift personally. I already trusted our friendship enough to know that what was bothering him had nothing to do with me. Figuring that the topic of being a non-only was a trigger for him, I felt his pain in my bones. I knew he was hurting, and during that wordless walk home I noted that if I was lucky, I just might be able to witness his growth through that pain. He was definitely feeling, but I wasn’t sure if he was dealing.
He had yet to heal. Of that I was certain.
+ + +
Hey,
My friendship with Quinn leveled up today. No, not like that.
What started out as a friendly stroll and a picnic turned into a soul-baring session of trust and vulnerability. It’s strange… I didn’t see it coming, but now that it’s happened, it seems so obvious that it would. I think that’s called a “black swan event.” Anyway, I had this weird epiphany on the walk back today. So many girls try too hard to be different, to be noticed, and to be envied by others in this bizarre, unspoken competition that is the high school scene. What they don’t see, though, is that none of them stand out because they all end up looking the same, sounding the same, behaving the same.
But not Quinn. She is literally the textbook definition of authentic. She’s so real and after spending the day with her, I can see that she doesn’t have a superficial cell in her body. I don’t think she is capable of shallow conversation, even when talking about nonsense like movies or whatever, and I definitely don’t think she’s capable of shallow friendships. Everything about her exudes that attitude of, “Here I am as I am. Take it or leave it.” It’s admirable and, at times, exhilarating.
I know what makes her different. I know what rocked her entire world and shaped her into who she is today. It was her brother, Troy. She lost her little brother when she was eight. She barely told me anything about him or what happened, but I could feel the suffering when she shared with me. The pain was pounding throughout my body like Taiko drums, and it took everything I had not to crack.
I almost broke down in tears.
I almost told her about you.
I should tell her.
But how? Just writing to you now, I’m sobbing hysterically. God, I would give anything to have you back, even for only one more day. I miss you so damn much.
Maybe telling her will help somehow?
I’ll think about it.
Love you.
-Deck
