I nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.” I shivered as the wind whipped across the beach. “I appreciate anything you can do to respect this situation.” God, I sounded like a seventy-year-old nun.
“Of course. We’ll keep the music inside and tell everyone to be quiet. And hey.” His eyes tracked me. “I’m really sorry.”
I went inside, kicked off my shoes and made my way back to the bedroom. Sheri glanced at me.
“His eyes were fluttering just a minute ago. We thought maybe he might wake up a little.” There was such hope in her voice, even now.
“Really?” I sat down on the edge of the bed, and Nate turned his face toward me, his hand groping until I laced my fingers through his.
“Quinn.” His eyelids lifted just a little, but I could see his eyes watching me. “You’re here.”
I smiled even as tears filled my eyes. “Where else would I be, I’d like to know?” Squeezing his hand, I leaned over to kiss his cheek.
“You’re the best thing in my life.” The words were slurred, but I knew what he’d said. “Thank you, Quinn.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment. “You’re welcome, Nate. I love you.”
But his eyes were closed again, and his hand had gone slack in mine.
He woke slightly again twice more that day, and he mumbled a few words to his parents. Darkness seeped into the room as evening fell. Nate’s breathing slowed as the old year waned. His hand was cold now, even when I clung to it with both of mine.
Just before ten that night, his chest began to move almost convulsively. Sheri’s eyes met mine, and I knew we were both mentally checking another item off the list from the booklet. We were very near the end now.
In the doorway, where he’d been slouched for the last hour, watching in silence, Mark stood, a loud and awful sob ripping from his chest. His hand flew out and smacked the wall, making Sheri and me both jump.
“I can’t do it. I can’t watch him . . . I’m sorry.” Mark stumbled to the bed and pressed his cheek against his son’s. “I love you, bud. I always will. Love you.”
His face crumpling, Mark lurched from the bedroom. I listened to his steps across the great room and out onto the deck.
Sheri sighed and hitched her chair closer to the bed. “Something you’ll learn in life, Quinn. They say women are the weaker sex, but it isn’t true. Men . . . most of them can’t handle things like this. Watching life come into the world and watching it leave again . . . that’s up to the women.”
“Didn’t Sally Field say something like that in Steel Magnolias?” I moved closer, too.
“You know, she did. God, I cried every time I watched that movie. I’ll never be able to see it again, I don’t think.”
We sat in silence after that, the two of us forming a sort of chain, with Nate in the middle. By eleven-thirty, his breathing had calmed a little, but his inhales were slower. Each time he exhaled, I held my breath, too, waiting to see if another would come.
Just before midnight, the next breath did not come. Sheri and I sat frozen for several minutes, waiting, but we both knew. As we’d sat there, each of us holding one of Nate’s hands, his spirit had slipped away into the night. He wasn’t with us anymore. I couldn’t have explained how I knew that, but I did. There was a missing presence, an emptiness in the room. He had left us.
Sheri dropped her head onto the bed as the most horrible sounds came from deep within her. The bed shook along with her body.
I was too numb to move, but after a few seconds, I realized to my surprise that my hands were wet with the tears pouring down my face. Stupidly, I thought, Nate won’t like to have a wet hand, and I wiped at our joined fingers with the edge of the blanket.
Somewhere beyond this silent house, the sound of horns, bells, whistles and sirens exploded as the rest of the world marked the arrival of the new year. I looked down into Nate’s slack face and realized that he would never know even a moment in this year. He belonged to the one that had just ended.
His struggle was over.
He was at peace.
My best friend was gone.
Truce by Twenty-One Pilots
There was silence, and there were muted voices. I was dimly aware that my parents and Quinn were near. I felt her fingers linked with mine, and I was glad.
Stay with me, Quinn. We can play trains.
I pried my eyes open to tell her how I felt, but words were slow and sluggish. And then there was silence once more.
Quinn, I saved you a swing. I know you like them best.
Somewhere just beyond my reach and sight, there was warmth and light and an appealing sense of belonging. I moved toward it, intrigued, but Quinn’s hand was still in mine.
I always want you, Quinn. Every day, I want you.
I didn’t want to leave her behind, but back there was cold and pain. Ahead was sunlight and . . . joy.
With an ease I’d never known in life, I sprinted forward. My feet didn’t stumble or trip, and my chest didn’t tighten as I tried to breathe.
I’ll always love you, Quinn.
I love you, Nate. Always.
With one last glance behind, I stepped into the sun.
All the missing crooked hearts
They may die, but in us they live on
I believe,
And I believe ‘cause I can see,
Our future days,
Days of you and me
Pearl Jam
Hard Love by NEEDTOBREATHE
Nate had planned his own funeral. Quinn told me that he’d actually had parts of it figured out since high school. That didn’t surprise me. Nate had said once that he’d always known his life expectancy wasn’t very long, and death had hovered near him time and again as we all grew up.
We gathered in the church his family had attended for years on a cold afternoon in mid-January. I sat in a pew with my parents, my brothers Simon and Danny, and Simon’s girlfriend Justine, two rows behind the front pew where Quinn and Carrie had joined Mark and Sheri. The church wasn’t even near full, and I couldn’t help comparing the turnout here with that at Matt’s service last year. That day, the church had been so full, they’d had to stream the service outside to the people who couldn’t get in, and his grandparents’ house had been crowded afterward for the repast. It made me unreasonably angry; Nate had fought with everything he had to hold onto life, and Matt had thrown his away with both hands. There should have been more people in the church.
Sheri and Mark each had a couple of siblings who were present, along with their kids. Sheri’s mother and Mark’s father were both still alive, and they were there, too. One row was filled with people I didn’t recognize; my mother murmured to me that they were all people who worked with Mark.
About ten minutes before the service began, Eli Tucker wheeled himself down the center aisle. When he caught sight of me, he nodded slightly and steered around to draw up alongside me.
“Taylor.” He extended his hand, his face drawn and sober. “Hell of a thing. I’m not supposed to be going to my college roommate’s funeral for at least fifty years.”
“Yeah.” I shook his hand and then slid over as Tuck deftly transferred himself to the wooden pew. My mother leaned forward a little and gave him a small sad smile.
“It’s cool if I sit here? I don’t know anyone else but Quinn, and I don’t want to intrude.”
I nodded. “Of course, it’s fine.” I glanced to the back of the church. “Where’s Zelda?”
Tuck’s face tightened. “I don’t know. I came with my parents.” A few rows behind us, Mr. and Mrs. Tucker were settling into their seats. Tucker’s words were curt, and his face shuttered. I didn’t ask any more questions.
I’d known of Tucker because he was a year ahead of me at a school in a neighboring town, one of our district rivals. Tuck had played quarterback, and he’d been a legend until his senior year, when a freak accident on the field had paralyzed his legs, costing him both his career and year of recovery and rehab. He’d started at
Birch the same year Quinn, Nate and Gia had, and he and Nate had struck up a friendship when they’d been matched together as roommates.
Quinn had suspected that there was more than met the eye between Tucker and her own roommate, Zelda. I didn’t know them well, but when we’d hung out last summer after Nate and Quinn’s wedding, I’d noticed something, too. Zelda looked out for Tuck, and the two touched in the same way Quinn and I once had.
But clearly Tuck wasn’t interested in pouring out his heart to me today, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to push it. I had enough on my plate without adding anyone else’s heartache.
I’d seen Quinn a few times since she’d come home to Eatonboro after Nate died, but never for very long, and never alone. We’d all converged at Mark and Sheri’s house just about every day since they’d come back to town. I knew Quinn had moved back in with her mother, but she stuck close to Sheri over those days, offering as much support and comfort as she could.
She’d gotten so thin, I’d noticed. Her eyes looked huge in her face, and her clothes hung on her body as they never had before. It ripped me apart, knowing how much she’d sacrificed these months and how much it had cost her.
The first time I saw Quinn after Nate’s death, I’d acted on instinct, pulling her into a tight hug.
“I’m so sorry, Mia,” I whispered into her ear. “So sorry. Was it . . . bad?” I knew that was a stupid question; of course watching your friend die was horrible, but I also trusted that Quinn would know what I meant.
“It was—hard.” She spoke slowly, as though she were still figuring it out. “It was sad. But it wasn’t the way you think. It was also beautiful and peaceful.” She smiled a little. “Nate went out with the old year. He would’ve liked that, I think. And his mom and I were there. He woke up a little earlier and spoke to us, but . . .” Quinn shook her head. “It was like he wasn’t really there anymore. You know when you’re talking to someone, but you can tell their attention isn’t on you? That’s what was like. His focus had shifted.” She sighed, wrapping her arms around her middle. “As it should.”
“Are you okay?” Again, it sounded dumb, but I had to ask.
“I think so. I was dreading the end, you know? I was terrified. But it wasn’t what I thought it might be. There was something almost holy about it.” She’d stared into the distance, looking over my shoulder, beyond me. “I’ll never forget it, as long as I live.”
The organist came in now and began playing a soft, somber tune as a few more people trickled into the church. Most of them walked to the front to offer their sympathy to Mark, Sheri and Quinn before they took their seats.
“How’s Quinn?” Tucker’s whisper was more of a low-voice, interrupting my thoughts. The church was so quiet that I was sure everyone could hear us.
I lifted a shoulder. “Hanging in there, I think. Mostly trying to stay strong for Mark and Sheri.”
“What’s she going to do . . . now?” Tuck frowned, his brows coming together.
“I don’t have a fu . . .” I glanced up at the cross in the front of the church and then down the pew, where my mother was glaring at me, eyebrows raised. “Freaking clue,” I finished lamely. “I’m not sure Quinn herself does, either. I’m pretty sure her plans began and ended with getting through . . . this.” I circled one finger in front of me, encompassing the whole church. “She’s got her job with that on-line magazine, so I guess she’ll keep doing that. She moved back in with her mom.”
“Uh huh.” Tucker’s lips pressed together. “And what about you? What’re you going to do now that Nate’s gone? Out of the way? Are you going to make a move in that direction? Are you two finally going to make it work?”
“Would you shut the hell up?” I hissed, my eyes darting around us. “We’re at my best friend’s funeral, for God’s sake. I’m not even . . . it’s not the time. Or the place, come to think of it. Try to show a little consideration, okay?”
He smiled a little. “I lived with Nate for four years. I guess I picked up some of his directness. Dude never wasted words, you know? What he thought was what he said. He told me once that he didn’t have time to play games.”
Pain gripped my heart. “Yeah, that sounds like classic Nate. But still, let’s remember his parents and his—his widow are sitting in front of us, all right?” I slid him a sideways look. “We’ll talk later.”
The music grew a little louder, and the minister entered through a side door, coming up to take his place in the front. There was a sound at the rear of the church, and I glanced back in time to see Zelda easing closed the door to the sanctuary. Gia stood next to her, hands wringing as she stared down at the floor.
As the two of them walked up the aisle toward Quinn, I knew Tucker’s eyes were following Zelda. His body tensed, and his fingers, resting on the hard wood of the pew, curled into fists.
I watched the girls hug Nate’s parents and Quinn. When Zelda straightened, her gaze wandered over the rest of the sanctuary, pausing when she spotted Tucker and me. She didn’t acknowledge Tuck, but when Gia stepped back, Zelda led her to our row, standing aside so that Gia sat next to my parents and Zelda was on the opposite end from Tuck.
I leaned forward a little and waved. Gia stared straight ahead, unseeing, but Zelda forced a half-smile and nodded.
If I’d thought Quinn looked thin, Gia was positively gaunt. I hadn’t seen her since last summer, at Nate and Quinn’s wedding. Now, she was skin and bones, and her dark hair was cut so short and choppy that I wondered if she’d done it herself. Her skin was pale, almost see-through.
I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. After Matt had committed suicide, I’d promised myself that I’d stay close to Gia, his girlfriend. And for a little while, I had. But then, after Nate and Quinn were married, it was just too hard for me to spend much time up here in Jersey. I’d tried to text Gia or call her when I could, and I’d invited her down for a football game, whenever she wanted to come. But she’d told me it was too painful for her to go to games anymore. She didn’t even watch them on television if she could help it. The reminder of Matt hurt too badly.
It hit me, too, that Nate’s death must be tough for Gia, especially coming on the heels of losing Matt. I remembered now that Quinn had once confided in me that Gia had harbored a secret crush on our friend back in high school, and although neither of them had ever acted on it—everyone knew Nate only had eyes for Quinn—they’d remained good friends. It was possible that outside Quinn and me—and maybe Tuck now, too—Gia had been Nate’s closest friend.
Maybe she felt my gaze on her, because her eyes darted in my direction. She attempted a smile, but her lips only curved in a sort of bizarre imitation before she glanced away, her hands clenched in her lap.
Next to her, Zelda was flawlessly gorgeous, as usual. Her white-blonde hair was twisted into a knot on the back of her head, and her black dress clung to that body like a Corvette to a curvy road. It was short enough to show off her endless legs, and even though I didn’t have any romantic interest in her, there wasn’t any denying how hot she was. It made me wonder all over again why Tucker was sitting next to me, making a point of not looking her way.
The music ended, drawing all of our attention to the front of the church as the minister rose to begin the service. I gritted my teeth and got ready to say a final good-bye to yet another friend.
The repast after the funeral was at my parents’ house. Mark and Sheri weren’t up to hosting it, and although Carrie had offered, my mom had convinced them to let her handle it, saying she was going to enlist my brothers and me to do most of the work.
So once I got home, I found myself laying out trays, setting up a beverage station and directing strangers to the bathrooms. Simon came in, carrying a huge tub of ice, followed by Danny with two hot pans of lasagna.
“Where’s Justine? If she’s going to be part of the family, shouldn’t she have to do her share of the work?” Danny eased the food onto hot pads and glanced over his shoulder at our brother. “I mean
, if not, what’s the benefit in having her?”
“Dude, the benefits are manifold.” Simon smirked and chucked at cube of ice at Danny. “I’m not giving you details, because I’m a gentleman and shit, but let’s just say she needs to rest up. Save her strength for the important stuff she has to do.”
“And number one on that list of stuff she has to do is you?” Danny picked up the ice from the floor and dropped it down the back of Simon’s shirt.
“Fuck! Get away from me.” Simon shoved at Danny, while I stood back and shook my head.
“First of all, ew. I don’t want to know anything about Justine’s benefits or—whatever. Second, when are you two going to grow the hell up?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth, Leo.” My mother came sailing into the dining room, a frown on her face. Without missing a beat, she grabbed Simon—who towered over her by a good half a foot—by the back of his neck with one hand and Danny by his arm with the other. “Were you two raised by wolves? This is a funeral, you idiots. A funeral for a boy who we’ve known since he was born, who isn’t going to get to be as old as you two morons.”
Releasing them both, she smacked them on the back of their heads with an impressive synchronized swing of her hands. “Behave. Watch your mouths, or so help me, I’ll drag you upstairs and remind you about the taste of Ivory soap.”
Simon looked a little queasy. “No, thanks. That stuff makes me hurl. Sorry, Ma.” He bent over to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be good. Promise.”
Mom shook her finger at him. “You should know better. Here you are, about to get married yourself, and you’re acting like a toddler.”
Danny, who was never known for either tact or wisdom, piped up unwisely. “I’m not even near getting married. Does that give me a pass?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Not in the least. It means you’re not as smart as your brother, who’s found himself a wonderful, beautiful, smart young woman willing to take on his sorry ass. Can you say the same?”
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