Out of Grief (2 page)

“I don’t understand, Quinn. I should stay, and Nikki should leave.”

“Ma, go back with the girls, it makes more sense. Nikki already has an open ended ticket.”

“I could get an open ended ticket, Quinn. That’s not the real issue is it?”

There was a long pause. I could picture Quinn pacing as she tried to figure out the least hurtful thing to say to her mother.

“I have never understood your friendship with someone that makes no pretense about their sexuality. And I don’t like the way she looks at you. You are vulnerable right now, Quinn, and you know ‘those kind’ prey on the weak.”

“Really, Mom? ‘Those kind?’ Did you learn that at church?”

I pulled up the airline schedule and started to check flights, just in case I would be leaving later that day.

Abby and Amy were sitting on the sofa pretending to be absorbed in some daytime soap opera, but really listening to the events playing out above our heads.

“Don’t take that tone with me, missy,” her mother screamed. “I have faith in the Lord, and I know what the Bible says about homosexuality. It is an abomination, and you know it.”

“I was trying to be nice, Mom, but I think you should leave today. I know Amy and Abby are anxious to get back to their families, so they’re ready anytime.”

“Well, I’m not leaving, as long as she’s here.”

The door opened, and Quinn yelled, “Abby, Amy, Mom said she can’t wait to get home to see the grandkids, so you probably want to leave today.”

I watched the two sisters look at each other. I knew from experience they were struggling with what to do. Support their sister and defy their mother? Never their go-to option, so it would be a first if that happened.

“I said no such thing,” Mrs. Warren shouted. “I am staying here until Quinn feels better.”

“In that case, I’m better, Mom. So you all can leave.”

“I’ll leave when she leaves.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. “I can arrange that.”

There was a flight at 4 pm that would get me into Newark at 8 pm, but it wasn’t non-stop. I was changing the settings to look for a non-stop flight when Quinn marched into the kitchen. I couldn’t quite place the look on her face as she grabbed a pad off the refrigerator, the kind you write grocery lists on, and started to write something. “Nikki, I’m sorry,” she said, “but I think you should leave. My mother will be here, and I’ll be okay.”

She threw the pad in front of me, and I saw the note she had scrawled there. It read,
Play along, please. But don’t book a flight.

“Yeah, okay. Let me just see what’s available and I’ll be on my way.” I hoped it sounded as casual as it could. I made a show of looking up an actual flight, wrote the info down, and excused myself to make the call outside where I got better reception, so no one would know I wasn’t actually calling.

“All set. My flight leaves at 4 pm,” I said as I returned to the kitchen.

The smug look on Mrs. Warren’s face was not lost on me.

“I’ll just go grab my stuff.” I felt the phone buzzing in my pocket, and I pulled it out. There was a text from Quinn.

—
There’s a coffee shop at the bottom of our hill, I’ll meet you there about a half hour after you leave. Please don’t get on a plane. —

“Well, this is working out well,” I said, for Mrs. Warren’s benefit. “Seems like they need the draft of my novel back a week earlier than expected.”

***

Coffee shop was a stretch
, I thought as I walked into a small hut with a counter and six stools. But the smell of fresh pastry and good coffee filled the air, so I sat down to wait and ordered a cup of their dark roast.

Quinn, true to her word, was there in less than 30 minutes. She took the stool next to mine and looked at me for a moment before breaking down into hysterical tears. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“Hey.” I stood and took her in to my arms. “There’s no need to be sorry. You’re not the jerk.”

She sat back and sniffed. I handed her my napkin. “Did you mean what you said about staying?”

“Yeah, I can write anywhere. You know that. But I don’t want to cause any trouble for you with your mom, either.”

“I need a day or two to get rid of her. I don’t want to ask you, but would you maybe stay in the area … there’s a really nice hotel right by the airport, or a quaint little inn down the road, and you’d be close by. I’d be happy to pay for it.”

“Probably cheaper than flying home and back, and I can pay, if you’re sure. Does the quaint little inn have all the modern amenities?”

“Internet, cable, the whole nine. Plus it’s closer.”

“Are you sure that I should stay?”

“I need your clarity to help me sort some things out; she’s just going to make me crazy. And what she said back there about you; I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”

“Quinn, stop apologizing for your mother. She’s not you, and I’ve always known how she feels about me.”

“I never told her, you know. I would never
have told—”
 

I pressed my fingers to her lips. “I know that was just between the two of us.”

She hugged me. “You really are the best friend I could ever ask for.”

That was me. Best friend extraordinaire—never quite good enough to be the lover, but always the best friend. Sometimes I hated my life.

Chapter Four

“So let me get this straight,” my other best friend, Kat, said. “You’re hiding out in a hotel until her mother leaves. What are you? Her dirty fucking secret?”

“It’s not like that, and you know it. Besides, you know her mom can’t stand me. Always has been that way. When her dad was around, he was a great buffer, but now…”

“You’re setting yourself up.”

“For what?”

“That was fucking rhetorical, right? You know damn well how you feel about her, and she knows it too. I say she’s taking advantage of you.”

“Look, I know you aren’t her biggest fan, but I need you to back off. I know what I’m doing. And I’d do the same thing for you, so stop feeling so threatened.”

“Nikki, you are so naïve sometimes. But if you want to go in with blinders on, do it. I’ll be here when it all falls apart.”
 

“Whatever.”

“I have to be in court in an hour and I have to prep. I’ll talk to you later. Let me know what flight you’ll be on and I’ll pick you up. Later, gator.”

I’d known Kat wouldn’t be happy I was staying, but I’d had to let her know. We had a standing book club date every third Wednesday of the month at the Center. I always felt a little odd discussing other authors’ work out in the open like that. But we always had a good time, and I was a little bummed I would miss it.

I had used the two days to polish my manuscript. The inn was not without its charm, and had a lovely garden to sit in. Between the texts from Quinn about how her mother was driving her crazy, I did manage to get a lot of work done. I also took advantage of the free HBO to catch up on some movies, but I was happy to be packing up to go back to Quinn’s, once the clan Warren departed.

Chapter Five

“Which bedroom should I take?” I asked Quinn as I pulled the suitcase up the stairs. “The one your sisters were in is probably a better choice, since I didn’t bring my smudge kit.” Actually, not a bad thought. I made a mental note to find a shop where I could get some supplies. Between the suicide and her mother’s outbursts, a good cleansing might help the healing process.

When she didn’t answer, I saw the puzzled look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing.” She bit her lip. “Take whichever room you want.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Do you want some coffee? I can make some.”

“I know you like tea better, so make tea.”

“Okay.” I watched her disappear into the kitchen, and deposited my bag and laptop case in the guest room. It wasn’t until later that evening that I put two and two together. We had watched a movie, and she had fallen asleep beside me. I put the popcorn bowl in the dishwasher, cleaned up the drinks, and waited for her to awaken. When she didn’t seem to be stirring, I gently shook her knee a bit. “Hey, sleepyhead, time for bed.”

“I missed the end of the movie. What happened?”

“I hit record when I saw you falling asleep, we can watch the end tomorrow.”

She followed me up the stairs, but stopped in her doorway.

“Good night,” I said. But she wasn’t moving. “Quinn?” She was staring at her bare feet, and fidgeting. “Are you okay?”

“I was wondering if you could …” She bit her lip. She was so adorable when she was flustered. “Never mind.”

“You were wondering what?” I prompted.

Her voice was soft, but I still heard what she said. “I don’t have the bad dreams when you’re with me.”

I moved closer. “You’re having nightmares? What kind?”

She looked up at me, and I could see the tears in her eyes. “Just the past two nights, and before you …”

“Okay. Just let me brush my teeth, and get my pajamas.”

“Thank you.”

***

I pulled the duvet back and crawled in on the other side of the bed, as Quinn had taken up her spot. I wasn’t quite sure what Quinn was asking of me, so I fluffed my pillow and lay on my side facing her. I pushed a stray hair off her face before thinking about it. “Do you want to tell me what the dreams are about?”

“I just keep seeing him in his office.”

“I’m sorry you had to be the one to find him.”

“Half his face was …” She shuddered. “I don’t want to talk, can you just … please hold me.”

I opened my arms, and she snuggled up against me. I prayed she couldn’t hear my heart beating as her head rested against my breast.
I can do this,
I told myself over and over, as the sweet smell of her shampoo assaulted my nostrils. Her arm wrapped around my waist, securing me in place, and the contentment in her sigh was not lost on me.

Chapter Six

With her mother out of her hair, Quinn relaxed, and it was easier for me to cajole her into doing the things that needed to be done. We removed his name from accounts, closed credit cards, updated wills, and she gave me power of attorney. She had held mine for my divorce. I knew that once she met someone, things would change again. But for the time being, at least the paperwork was done.

The museum she worked for was very generous in allowing her some flexibility in hours. Throwing herself back into her work seemed to give her something else to think about, and allowed me the time I needed to work on a new outline for my next novel.

I was cooking for her. I actually loved to cook, when I had someone to cook for, and she was eating. We fell into a pattern that seemed to work well. I tried to move into the guest room to sleep a couple times, but every time I did, I would wake up with her curled around me. “I guess I’m just not ready to sleep alone,” she would say, and we would leave it at that.

***

The weather was the perfect temperature for working outside, so we chose a Saturday to clean out the garage. She wanted to get rid of his things. She said they reminded her of him, and she was quickly moving out of denial into the anger phase of grieving. I had noted lately that she would just throw tiny trinkets of his into the garbage.

The garage was a mess, with spider webs everywhere making me nervous. I admit it; I have a serious case of arachnophobia. Quinn didn’t say a word. She just picked up the shop vac and cleared away the offending webs. “Better?” she asked when she was finished.

“Much. Thanks.” I was examining his workbench, with a complete set of tools. “You probably should keep some basic things.” I picked out a hammer, some screwdrivers, the electric drill, an adjustable wrench, pliers and a few other items. “I have a friend back in New York that might want some of this stuff. We could box it up for her. I’m sure she’d even give you some money for it.”

“She can have it.” She was looking through a box of old, beat up tins. “I don’t even know what he was going to do with half this stuff.”

The tins wouldn’t have even pulled anything at an antique dealer, they were so old and rusted, probably from being in the garage.

“Just make a pile and we’ll take it down to that dump.”

She began to stack boxes outside, while I boxed up the tools for Joann. She was a multi-media artist I’d met in the Village through one of my exes, and we had remained friends. Recently, she had begun to gain some recognition downtown, which was richly deserved, and I knew she would be thrilled to have a heat gun in particular, but she would definitely make use of the other tools.

I set that box to the side to address and take it to the post office later. I noticed her staring at his truck. “You okay?”

“Fine. I just want it all gone.”

“Even those bikes? I saw some great trails in town; maybe we could clean them up and take a ride later.”

“You’re right. We should go through it; there may be some stuff I want to keep.”

We actually made quick work of sorting through what to keep. Some basic garden tools, a hose, the bikes, and the toolbox made it into the keep pile, while boxes of old National Geographics and a complete set of encyclopedias got stacked on the pile to throw out. There were several boxes of his winter clothes that I set on another pile for Goodwill.