Page 33 of Through Quick and Quinn
yeah, it’s the way we deal I guess
11:39 a.m.
You deal by not dealing?
11:51 a.m.
pretty much
11:52 a.m.
Well, I hope you have a great rest of your day!
11:53 a.m.
you too
Quick:
That Simple
Winter break of my junior year was a confusing one. Typically, I craved time alone. Time for me to use my finger shovels, time for me to write to Geoffrey, time for me to sleep in. Whether I craved it or not, though, I was destined to spend that break alone. Christmas time was especially difficult for my parents, so it was no surprise that my mom was drugged up to the point of being practically comatose, and my dad spent more time at the office than at our house. I was on my own for meals, which explained why I was basically eating only once per day. Instant ramen. Yeah, real nutritious.
Even though my days were quiet and I encountered zero distractions, I still had a very hard time concentrating. I settled on researching the light topic of Native American braids and while I did indeed learn some fascinating things, I knew I was avoiding the more involved topics that typically swallow my attention whole. I had a list of controversial subject matters to explore, with CERN and its symbolism at the top of that list, but I could not seem to focus. It became quite apparent that the only thing I was trying to figure out was my friendship with Quinn. I thought about her much too often and found myself wishing I was with her, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I enjoyed companionship or it was something more.
She texted me out of the blue halfway through vacation, I assumed because she was missing me the same way I was missing her. Probably as confused, too. We didn’t text too much, just a few niceties. Later that night, while lying in bed with my eyes wide open, I suddenly realized how ridiculous all of it was. How overcomplicated I was making it. How much I was overthinking it.
I wanted to see her. Period. It was that simple.
I jumped out of bed and texted Quinn right there and then. All I wrote was, “Downtown tomorrow?” Within the same minute, she texted back, “Yes!” Her enthusiasm always made me smile, like I could hear her chipper voice through her exclamation points. I had a feeling she was thinking of me, too. She must have been. It was after two o’clock in the morning when we texted.
Quinn mentioned she had to run to the store the next morning, so we decided to meet for lunch and then check out the shops for a couple of hours. She suggested a Mexican restaurant, and we ended up eating so many chips with salsa that the only thing we had to pay for was our fancy strawberry lemonades. We tipped our server well and joked about how it was a good thing we had plans to meander downtown since we needed to walk off the insane amount of free food we consumed.
While we skipped entering the boutiques of overpriced clothing, the art galleries of desert landscaping, and the bizarre pop-up shop of water massage tables, Quinn and I did spend quite a bit of time in a family-owned bookstore we came across. It was one of those quaint shops with a huge array of gently used books, where no two bookshelves were the same, where the genre signs were handmade, and where the prices were written by hand on little stickers. Quinn got lost in a book on Kundalini yoga for a solid half hour while I perused the section of antiquated publications. I ended up purchasing an old reader on our nation’s history, curious to see if its contents would line up with what we were learning in class, and Quinn bought the Kundalini book like I knew she would the second she picked it up.
Towards the end of our afternoon, we stopped by a little coffee shop and ordered some hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. While we were sitting in the corner, Quinn announced that she had something for me. I cracked a joke about how my birthday wasn’t for a couple months and I hated it anyway, but my comment seemed to fly right over her head. She reached into her bag and pulled out a book of sorts, but by looking at it, I had no idea what it was. “It’s a scrapbook,” she smiled, “but it’s a work in progress.” She handed me the scrapbook and I noticed that she was beaming. Glowing. Twinkling. As she bounced in her seat and clapped her hands together, I could see how happy it made her to give me a gift. She was literally giddy.
It was a small brown book, maybe eight inches on each side and about an inch thick, with empty sheet protector pages within. Except for the first two. I opened it to read, “Your attitude entering a situation greatly affects your experience and the outcome thereof.” I took in the colors, the lettering, the swirly things. It looked like a work of art. I was so confused; I couldn’t figure out how she found that exact quote somewhere. Was it a magazine clipping? I glanced up to see the pride in her face and immediately understood. “You made this?” Surely the incredulous look on my face was easy to read, since my eyes were probably the size of half dollar coins. “You made me the pamphlet?”
“Yes!” There was that exclamation point again. I could feel the smile slowly erupting on my face as I started to piece it all together. It must have taken her hours to make this, and she made it just for me.
“Look!” She pointed back to the page where I noticed a tiny plastic door taped to the outside of the clear page cover. “There’s a reminder trinket, too, so if you ever need a little something in your pocket, you can take it with you!”
I tried to thank her, but I couldn’t find my voice. I was staring at the page, astounded by her thoughtfulness and fully aware that it was hands down the coolest gift I ever received.
I slowly turned the page to find what I already knew was there. The next Life Lesson. It took me a second to figure out how a plate represented the idea that we aren’t responsible for other people’s realities, but when it clicked, a laugh escaped my lips.
“I knew you’d get it! Oh my gosh, Quick, do you like it?” Quinn looked like she was coming out of her skin, she was so excited. Our eyes met and I slowly nodded. She settled down, released a giant sigh, and gave me a calm, sweet smile. “I’m so glad,” she purred.
And in that moment, I knew.
I loved her.
It was that simple.
+ + +
Hey Geoffrey,
