On Paper (42 page)

I’d laid it all out for her and she’d made the choice.

I had to let her leave. And this time I had to let her stay gone.

I had to trust that she knew what was best for her heart.

It didn’t stop the regret that sat heavy in my chest.

I threw the vase of daisies against the wall.

I watched for hours as the water painted designs on the expensive paint and then I left the flowers there among the shattered glass, packed my bag and headed home.

WHEN I STROLLED
up to the apartment door with my sad suitcase rolling behind me Lily was there to greet me with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.

"I wasn't sure which level we were going to need," she explained with a sad smile. I loved her. I shut the door and went straight into her arms, letting loose all of the emotions that I'd been trying to keep tucked away. I'd done my best to survive on autopilot, trading my ticket in for an earlier flight, shuffling through security. I'd sent Lily a text right before I boarded that had simply said:
I'm coming home. It's over.
Then I had turned my phone off, not wanting to risk the chance of seeing anything from him come across my screen. Or maybe I didn't want to risk nothing coming across my screen. That would be worse, to know that I'd left and he didn't care at all.

But I already knew there would be nothing. I knew because he hadn't tried to stop me. He hadn't even looked up to watch me leave. That cut the deepest. How had I been so wrong about things? How had I become so blinded? I had always played by the rules, made the smart choice -- until Keaton. I’d risked, I’d lost. I guess it happens to everyone at some point in their life, but this was most definitely not a feeling I ever wanted to repeat.

I felt lost, broken, and more vulnerable than I'd ever been. It's one thing to be vulnerable and feel safe and cared for. That sets you free. It's an all together different thing to be vulnerable and face rejection. It scars, you bleed and it feels like you will never truly recover.

"I'm sorry, Quinn. You want to tell me what happened?" Lily's voice was calm and soothing. She was treating me like I was a frightened animal. And I guess in a way I was. I definitely felt skittish.

The tears streamed down my face, unabashed and beyond my control now that I was home. I cried into Lily's shoulder for a long while, right there in the entryway, unable to venture in any further.

She continued to say soothing words, smoothing my hair like a child until I was calm enough to be released from her hold. She gave me a careful once over, maybe she was looking for the broken pieces, the jagged edges that were sure to be jutting out from my skin.

"Come in, I'll pour you a shot and you can tell me what happened--if you want to," she amended quickly. I gave her a tiny nod and followed her into the kitchen. I pulled out the barstool and Lily rounded the counter so that she was facing me.

"What's your poison?" she asked. I pointed to the tequila. I wanted to feel numb and that was a sure fire way to get me there quickly. I watched as she poured us each a shot.

"Lime?" she asked.

"No need for frills," I said downing the shot before she could join me. I shrugged at her raised eyebrow.

I took a deep breath as she waited for me to explain what happened. I didn't even know where to begin, so I just jumped into the middle.

"I just couldn't do it anymore. I thought I could be strong enough for both of us. I just couldn’t. He’s just been so different and he finally just let it all out and I realized that there wasn’t a place for me anymore. We weren’t ever going to be on the same page again. It’s like part of him wanted to pretend it was okay, but when I called him out on it he just kind of went off on me. He wanted to push me away.”

"What did he say when you told him you were leaving?" she asked.

I shook my head, tears pooling in my eyes again, "Nothing. He didn't say anything. He just let me walk out. He didn't even look at me, Lil."

I watched her jaw tighten and I knew she was probably plotting his painful death right then.

"You know what gets me the most? The thing I keep thinking about over and over?" She squeezed my hand and let me continue. "He loved me. I know that he did. But he didn't know how to be in love. He didn't know how to be that person. But after this, he'll know. I'll be the practice relationship, the one where he makes all the mistakes and learns how to be better. He'll meet someone new and he'll know. He'll fall in love again and he won't hide from it. He won't let it walk out the door. He'll be happy. He'll make her happy. I keep thinking about her and hating her and she doesn't even exist yet," I admitted.

"You know you'll find that person too. You will be happy again. I know it doesn't feel that way now, but I know it," she offered.

I gave her a weak smile. She was so worried about me. Worried that I'd go back to my guarded, logical self and use this as an excuse to never jump again. Maybe she was right. I had no idea what tomorrow was going to bring with it. I couldn't think about any of that yet. "Maybe. Right now I just want to hide out for a little bit. Find my balance. Learn to breathe through it."

"I'm right here with you," she said pulling me into a hug. I held on, taking her comfort to help rebuild my strength. Because that's the thing about best friends, they are your anchors. They refuse to let you sink.

I WAS MOPING.
My new favorite pastime was kicking my own ass for being a moron. For turning away from the best thing I'd ever had. If it wasn't so pathetic it might be poetic. I was supposed to feel better. The tug-of-war was gone. I didn’t have to decide anymore. She was gone. It was done. Someone forgot to tell my heart that it was a good thing.

The streets had become my friend. It was my solace, to walk and get lost in the crowds, lost in my thoughts. It felt like if I could just walk far enough I might find the place where I could figure out my next step. Quinn never left my thoughts, whether she was there in memory or in regret. It really just depended on my level of self pity.

I had no one to blame but myself. Even Miles was tired of pretending otherwise. He'd finally laid into me one night when he'd found me in some tucked away honky tonk that I'd stumbled into. I'd texted him to join me in my misery and he'd found me there practically crying in my beer. It wasn’t entirely my fault. Have you heard country songs? Like have you really listened to them? The lyrics will rip a man's guts out. They did mine. I sat there listening to some guy on the jukebox sing about a girl being like a perfect storm, a mix of sun and hurricane and I felt pretty positive that he'd written the damn thing about Quinn. I gave him five bucks to play it again.

Fuck, I missed that girl.

Miles had huffed as he grabbed the chair back and sat across from me.

"Dude, you have got to get it together. Pathetic is not working for you," he had said. I growled in response and continued to think about Quinn and rain and memories of rain slicked skin on rooftops.

"You want her back, go get her back. The girl loves you, though seeing you here like this I can't imagine why she does," he said.

"She doesn't want me back. You didn't see her when she left. She was done. She gave up. I pushed her away. I practically shoved her out the door," I mumbled.

"You are such a chick. What happened to my brother? No holds barred, the go-after-what-you-want-asshole that always gets what he wants?"

"I don't deserve her," I said, the truth burning a path down my throat.

"Not like this you don't. All you deserve now is a shower and a clean shirt. Shit, have you even showered this week?"

"You're an asshole," I spit. When I wasn't moping I wanted to kick things. Miles had been on the other side of it more than once and I knew he was losing his patience with me.

He laughed, unfazed. I went back to drinking my beer.

"Seriously, I still don't get what happened." I stared at the table without answering him. I didn't either. Only that I was a coward. Didn't that say it all really?

That had been three days ago and I was still walking and wandering. As I rounded the corner to make my way back to my apartment the clouds that had threatened all day finally let loose a deluge of water. I looked up into the drops as they fell, letting them drench me straight to my core.

I'm sure I looked like a crazy person, standing there in the rain laughing at the sky, relishing in the fact that as the rain fell I could feel her all around me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized that that indeed might actually make me a crazy person. But there was something about it, about the rain and the way it was ferociously wrapping around me that felt cleansing. It was almost as if the cobwebs were melting away and my head was starting to clear.

Miles was right. This wasn't me. I went after what I wanted. I didn't sit around in self pity about it. I had shit to figure out. There was one way I knew how to do that and it wasn't walking around the city like Forest Gump.

I shook the rain from my hair and hurried down the street towards home. When I made it upstairs I stripped off my wet shirt, kicked off my jeans, dumping them in the washing machine and grabbing a towel to scrub my wet hair. Then I walked straight into my office, hit the power button on my laptop and took a seat.

It was time to write.

THE CALL I'D
been waiting for came three weeks later, when I was on my way home from yoga. I'd started it up again thinking it would help clear my head. Turns out it was good at getting rid of a lot of the head garbage. So much so that when the New York number flashed across my screen I didn't give it a second thought before answering it.

"This is Quinn," I answered cheerfully.

"Ms. Ryan, my name is Julie Barnett. I'm the human resources manager here at McLean and Matthews Publishing. Do you have a moment to talk?"

My heart began to pound in my chest. This was it. My future could hang on the next few minutes and whatever it was that Julie Barnett had to say.

"Of course, it's good to hear from you," I managed hoping that I sounded professional and not like a nervous twelve year old girl.

"I'm calling regarding the interview that you had with us awhile back. We have an editorial assistant job that I'd like to offer you if you are still interested in employment with us,"

My smile was instant, as were the butterflies that had just taken flight in my stomach.

"Oh, yes, I am still interested," I managed. I know I sounded eager, I didn't care. This was a big deal. The beginning of me making my big move and starting the path that would let me do what I'd always dreamed about.

"Oh wonderful, I will email you over the offer letter. Please take a look at it and contact me with any questions or your official acceptance," she said.

"I will. Thank you very much, Ms. Barnett." I was doing my best to hold it together, but as soon as I hit the end button on my phone I was squealing and doing a happy dance, right there in my car. This moment was full of promise and it had me on a high.