Page 92 of Through Quick and Quinn
I was all set to pick her up from her house at four o’clock that afternoon. Quinn was expecting me to chauffeur her to the roller rink via the handlebars on my bike, and while she knew I had a surprise for her, there was no way she suspected that I’d pick her up in my dad’s car. I considered filming her reaction, but I knew that if I relished the moment in real time, I’d be able to remember every detail anyway.
She stopped meeting me on her driveway ever since she decided that her mom needed to know me so she’d love me, so I parked up the street from her house and made my way to her front door. When it was opened, I realized that Quinn wasn’t the only one in for a surprise that night. Her mother not only answered the door, but she greeted me with a genuinely friendly hello and a hug. “Come in, come in! Please tell me. Would you like me to call you Quick? Or Declan?”
I stammered as I tried to find my bearings. The shock had not worn off yet. “Um, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer Quick. Thank you.”
She ushered me to the kitchen with her arm tucked into mine, leading me to the island to offer me a snack and a beverage. Quinn’s father said hello and shook my hand as I walked over. He tried to stifle a chuckle, probably because of the unmistakable evidence of my stunned state. His wife’s welcoming kindness was completely unexpected and produced utter astonishment.
“What was that all about?” I asked her as we said our good-byes and headed out the front door.
“I’ll tell you later,” Quinn smiled cryptically. Then she stopped short and turned to face me. “Hey. My mom’s question got me thinking. Do you think you’ll ever go by your real name again?” Her face turned tender as she reached for my hand.
I released a deep breath and nodded. “I do. I just need my mom to be the first one to use it again. It won’t feel right otherwise. Does that make sense?” My eyes searched hers. I couldn’t help but feel like so many of my answers were behind those beautiful eyes.
“Absolutely it does, Quick. It makes perfect sense.” We walked towards the driveway and my heart began pounding in my chest. I was so eager for the moment that was waiting for us. She looked about with a bewildered expression. “Ummmm, Quick? Where’s your bike? Did you bring it? Or are we taking mine?” I waited for her to look in my direction, and when she did, I held her face in mine and touched my forehead to hers.
“Turn around, Quinn.” I whispered.
She held her forehead to mine as she whispered back, “Why? Is your bike in the bushes?”
I laughed as I spun her around and placed a blindfold over her eyes. The scent of her hair wafted towards me and I could feel my knees get weak. The strong urge to confess my feelings was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
“+ + +ooh, is this the surprise? Did you get a new bike? Oh my gosh, did you get roller skates for tonight?” She snickered at her own joke, presumably imagining us roller skating to the rink. She continued to entertain herself with guesses and giggles as I led her up the street. When we reached the car, I stopped walking and removed her hand from mine. I reached into my pocket, retrieved the keys, and placed them gently in her right hand. I closed her fingers around them and then I just watched. Waited and watched.
It went almost exactly as I expected. It took her about three seconds to figure out what she was holding and what it meant, and once she did, she gasped for air like a fish out of water. She ripped off the blindfold, saw the car in front of us, and screamed, “Oh my gosh, Quick, did you get your license?” She didn’t even wait for a response. She went right into the squealing and the jumping, the hugging and the exclamation points. “Tell me everything. Right now!” she demanded once she settled down.
“Surprise. I got my license. What is there to tell?” I chuckled. “Come on, let’s go.” I opened the door for her and she crawled in, smiling proudly at me.
“Oh, so chivalrous of you, my dear. Why, thank you,” she said in her best British accent as she tipped her nonexistent hat towards me.
There wasn’t too much chatter in the car, probably because Quinn could sense that I was a little nervous to be driving with her for the first time. She fiddled with the radio a bit at first but ended up rolling down the window and enjoying the wind. I glanced over a couple of times and saw her beaming face angled towards the sun. Such a beautiful sight. And one that made me feel so content. Almost as content as I felt when she reached over and squeezed my hand at a red light.
After scarfing down some pizza and renting our skates, we spent two solid hours awkwardly causing each other to fall on our asses. We held hands the entire time, but more so for balance rather than affection. If our hands weren’t locked, one of us was gripping the other’s shoulder or pulling on the other’s shirt. Even once we started to get the hang of it, we still bailed plenty of times. We were so exhausted, we ended up sitting exactly where we landed, laughing about the fall and groaning over the thought of having to get back up. Bruises and all, it was a blast. We must have looked like total fools, but luckily for us, we never cared about that. There was always a liberation that came with not concerning ourselves with the possible opinions of strangers, and that night wasn’t any different.
We headed back to her neighborhood and decided to go for a stroll, and that was when things shifted. Maybe because we were no longer distracted by surprises and pizza and skates, but instead alone in quiet stillness, I was distinctly aware of my SIDS secret creeping back into my consciousness. I couldn’t think about anything other than the fact that I was lying to her, but I wasn’t ready to tell her yet. I wanted to be very thoughtful about how to approach the conversation, and at that time, I was too focused on the conversation I had to have with my mother a few days from then.
Quinn seemed distracted as well. I figured she was tired or was sensing my uneasiness. The latter seemed more likely. Either way, feeling “off” with Quinn was torturous. I drove home that night knowing that the only way to fix it would be to get those hard conversations out of the way. Talk to my mother and see if we could reconcile as Dad and I did. Then talk to Quinn and tell her what I think happened to Troy. And then maybe, just maybe, work up the courage to confess my feelings for her.
Honestly, I did not know which of the three would be the hardest. None would be easy.
Friday, December 20, 2024
Note to self:
Tonight was amazing, until it wasn’t.
The surprise of him driving? Amazing. Especially the blindfold part. It was super sweet that he put so much thought into how he would go about telling me. Oh, and we did the forehead thing, which I will never ever tire of.
The pizza we shared? Amazing. It was delicious, for starters, and I just love how comfortable we are with each other. Tomato sauce all over our faces, stringy cheese hanging from his chin, me laughing while eating and then almost choking… We’re never embarrassed around each other. It’s the best feeling, truly.
Roller skating together? Amazing. Well, it was definitely a disaster in terms of successfully getting from Point A to Point B, but since our goal was to have fun, we nailed it. We had the most epic, cascading twin fall ever—he says I was the first domino, but it was totally him—where we were both flailing and trying to grasp onto each other, each movement making the fall worse and worse until we ended up flattened on the rink floor. I’m looking forward to counting the bruises, scratches, and various marks on my body tomorrow. And I know I am going to wake up so sore! But it was worth it. Totally worth it.
But then, we went for a walk around my block a couple of times. It felt so weird all of a sudden, and I know it’s because I have this horrible secret that I’m hiding from him. I really need to tell him about Mandy, and I need to tell him, like, yesterday, because the only thing that can make this worse is if he finds out in any way other than directly from me. Once we started walking and it was just us in the peace of the night, all I could think about was this awful untold information. I kept trying to be brave enough to tell him, but I couldn’t seem to find the right words, so I kind of retreated into a strange silence.
I don’t care how crazy it sounds. I am going to practice telling him. I process best out loud, and so the more I use my words, the more I’ll be able to find the right ones. I want to fast forward to the time when I tell him, and then fast forward right past it to the point when we’re okay again. When he’s forgiven me. I need to come clean as soon as possible so we can have the rest of winter break to reconnect and get back on track.
When I close my eyes and picture what I want, I can see it so clearly. It’s the same image in my mind’s eye every time. He’s sitting on a couch, angled in the corner, and I’m nestled up against him with my back to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around mine. And we’re just sitting. Being still. Enjoying one another’s presence.
I seriously want that more than anything.
