“Hey, we’re having a barbeque this Sunday and I wanted to invite you.”
“Sounds great. Sure,” Quinn replied flatly.
“Well, don’t sound too excited on my account, Quinny,” Tommy said sarcastically. “I don’t want to twist your arm or anything.”
“Sorry, Tommy. I’m just tired. It’s just been a really long day,” Quinn explained.
“Well, the barbeque should help you relax some. And, hey, why don’t you bring that girl I met the other week at Marché,” Tommy suggested. “What’s her name? Evie?”
“Um, yeah … about her. Did you happen to tell Sam about her? Or anyone else in the family?”
“No, why?”
“Because I’m not seeing her anymore.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Tommy sounded a bit disappointed. “I liked her. I really thought you two might have had something.”
“Yeah, so did I … but apparently she wasn’t convinced of the same. She ran at the first sign of trouble.”
Ouch—that stung, I said to myself.
“Wait a minute—are you telling me that you got dumped?” Tommy burst out laughing. “That’s a first!”
“Great, Tommy. Go ahead and rub salt in the wounds.”
“Sorry, dude. It’s just that it’s about time someone else did the heart breaking in your relationships,” he replied, still chuckling. “Hey, why don’t you call that Amy chick?”
“Ashley,” Quinn corrected his brother.
“Yeah, sure, whatever—you know … the super hot one.”
“I don’t know, Tommy. It just seems a little soon.”
“Look, the way I see it, there’s no point in just sitting around and moping. Get back in the saddle and call her.”
Quinn paused for a moment to ponder his brother’s advice.
“You know what?” Quinn said with a little more enthusiasm. “You’re right.” He shifted his posture and stood up a little straighter. “Why should I just sit around? It’s not like I’m waiting for anyone. It’s time for me to move on.” As Quinn said the words, he looked up at the ceiling. He was talking to me. “In fact, I think I’ll give Ashley a call right now. Thanks, Tommy.”
“Hey, what are big brothers for?” Tommy chuckled. “Giddy up!” He threw in before hanging up the phone.
Quinn scrolled through the address book in his phone and found Ashley’s number.
“Okay, Evie. You win. If this is really the way it has to be,” Quinn said aloud before dialing Ashley’s number. “If this is really what you want … you got it. I’ll move on.”
This is not what I want! my mind screamed.
Quinn called Ashley and asked if she was free Thursday evening.
She was.
* * *
Late Thursday night, I watched the cab pull up to Ashley’s place. Once she reached the top of the steps to her brownstone, she unlocked her door and turned back to the cab.
“You coming, Quinn?” Ashley called out.
“Yeah, just give me a minute,” Quinn replied. He got out of the cab and gave the driver a twenty. As Quinn waited for change, he glanced up to the sky.
“Evie?” Quinn muttered under his breath. “If you’re here, please let me know.”
“What? You say something?” the cab driver asked as he waved Quinn’s change out the driver’s window.
“Oh, uh … no. Thanks,” Quinn responded as he took the change and tipped the driver. The cab pulled away, leaving Quinn standing there alone. He took his time putting his money back in his wallet.
“I need to know if you’re here,” he pleaded.
“Everything all right out there?” Ashley called from inside her foyer.
“Evie?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Fine, have it your way,” he said under his breath. “I just want you to know that once I walk through that door, there’s no turning back.” He waited another minute for me to say something, but I couldn’t—despite the fact that I knew exactly what would happen if he went inside. All I could do was stand invisibly there and watch the nightmare unfold.
I’d never forget the sound of the heavy wood door shutting and locking behind him. I materialized and stood there on the sidewalk for a moment while rage, jealousy, and anguish consumed me. I took a few deeps breaths to try to calm down. I knew I had no right to feel these emotions. I no longer had any claim on Quinn. He was doing exactly what I had told him to do, and now I was suffering in spades because of it. Still, I couldn’t believe that he was capable of professing his love for me just days earlier only to then turn around and fall into the arms of another.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and pound my fists into Quinn’s chest for doing this to me … for making me witness even the smallest part of this sordid liaison. The thought of Quinn’s hands on her body, his mouth kissing her, his body pressed up against hers …
Ugh! It made my skin crawl, and I shuddered in disgust. I tried to force the nauseating images from my head, but I just couldn’t. The harder I tried to block out the revolting thoughts, the faster my mind seemed to conjure them. It was intolerable. My stomach churned over and over until I literally thought I would be physically ill—impossible as that would have been.
I was losing it fast. The emotions being bottled up inside were trying to fight their way out; they were irrepressible. I was mere seconds away from exploding. I knew I was supposed to remain by Quinn’s side, but this was too much to bear. I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t be anywhere near there. I had to leave. I checked my watch—nothing was stopping me. I immediately teleported myself back to Quinn’s apartment and waited in the dark for him to return.
I thought that night would never end.
* * *
Quinn walked through the door a couple hours before sunrise. It was dark, but I could see his disheveled appearance. He reeked of her perfume … of her scent. Instantly, I was overwhelmed with so much rage that I began shaking uncontrollably, and I couldn’t dematerialize before he flipped on the lights.
“Evie—” Quinn gasped. He stopped, frozen in his tracks, stunned, not knowing what to do or say. His face drained of all color right before my very eyes.
I couldn’t respond. I was so incensed I didn’t trust what I would say—or what I would do. I just looked at him with daggers in my eyes for the few seconds it took me to regain enough self-control to phase out of sight.
“Evie!” Quinn cried out. “Wait!” he begged as I faded from view. “Look, I’m sorry … but I had to do something to try to get you out of my head.”
I remained silent.
“I know you’re here. Evie, please say something. Please do something—yell at me, slap me—anything.” The remorse in his voice was unmistakable.
“Damn it!” Quinn exclaimed when I still didn’t answer him. He picked up a tall glass sitting on the counter next to him and threw it against the brick wall. The glass shattered on impact. Then he dragged himself into the bathroom and took a shower.
* * *
Quinn had hurt me more than I ever thought he could. I felt so betrayed. I knew I’d told him to move on, but, in a million years, I never thought he’d do it with the snap of his fingers. I mean, if what we had together was real to him, then it didn’t make any sense. And, quite frankly, I didn’t want it to make any sense. All I wanted to do was run away, but I couldn’t. I needed to cry, but no tears would come. I felt exhausted, but there was no way for me to sleep.
Determined to do something to try to make myself feel better, I transported myself deep within the Grand Canyon. I checked for any signs of life. I detected various nocturnal animals scattered hundreds of yards in either direction, but no human life. So I screamed. I screamed with such vengeance and wrath the ground beneath me shook. I kept screaming until I thought I would lose my voice. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I didn’t want to feel anymore.
It was still dark when I returned. I could hear Quinn sleeping. I sat down in my chair, welcoming the darkness. Unl
ike earlier that evening, this time the black of night felt comforting—almost safe—like I was tucked beneath a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night. The worst was over, or so I hoped, and I had endured.
As the sun began to rise, I noticed Quinn had picked up the glass—well, most of it anyway. I swept up the remaining shards sprinkled across the floor and noticed a few drops of blood on the nearby area rug. He must have cut himself while cleaning up the mess he had made.
I walked into his bedroom. He was still asleep, sprawled out in the middle of the bed on top of the covers. He had taped one of the gauze pads the hospital had given him to the bottom of his foot where the glass had cut him.
I smiled smugly. At least Quinn had also felt some kind of pain tonight. Guilt immediately followed my mean-spirited sentiment. As much as I hated to admit it, I still loved him. And it was still my job to protect him from harm—not wish it upon him. I slowly and carefully removed the gauze pad and healed his foot.
In the end, I had to accept that I was the one who’d ended our relationship. I was the one who’d pushed Quinn away. I had told him to forget about me and move forward with his life. And I was the one who’d abandoned him, leaving him to deal with losing me in whichever way he saw fit.
That said, I’d never forget this evening; it was burned in my brain forever. I also doubted I would ever be able to forgive Quinn for sleeping with Ashley. I certainly had no intention of ever giving him the opportunity to try to apologize to me face-to-face again. Healing him was the best I could do to make what little peace I could with him.
* * *
An hour later, Quinn’s alarm sounded. He walked into the living area looking for me but didn’t seem at all surprised when I wasn’t there. He got ready for work and was about to walk out the front door when he paused to glance back into the living area.
“Evie?” he asked hopefully. He sighed heavily when I didn’t respond. “Evie … I am so sorry.” He walked out of the apartment, closing the front door behind him.
Quinn’s apology only confirmed the message he had sent with his actions—I was no longer a part of his life. He had moved on and, in so doing, he knew he had hurt me.
I couldn’t handle being near him, so I sat outside on the rooftop of his office building. It was raining, but I didn’t mind; in fact, it felt good. I imagined that the raindrops falling on my face were like tears streaming down my cheeks—they were the tears I wished I could cry.
I spent the next few days praying for more rain.
32. Redemption
That Tuesday, Quinn worked late. A cab dropped him off at the convenience store a few blocks from his apartment. Ronald was perched in his usual spot outside peddling Streetwise to passersby. A nervous feeling rippled through my mind as I remembered Peter’s warning to stay clear of him. Invisible, I stood across the street and watched Quinn enter the store. Except for Ronald and me, no one else was outside for several blocks.
“My angel! Oh, my angel!” Ronald sang out in his bluesy voice as he pulled a dirty handkerchief from his pants pocket and used it to wipe away a smudge on one of his tattered brown leather shoes.
I stood there, frozen like a statue, and said nothing, assuming Ronald was only reminiscing about the last time he saw me.
“Well, well. A bit on the quiet side tonight, are we?” he sang out again, although this time he gazed unmistakably in my direction.
Does he know that I’m here? Can he see me?
“Come now, angel, you have no reason to hide from me,” Ronald sang. “Did I not warn you the other night?”
Hold it, did Ronald just communicate with me telepathically? Or did he actually speak the words I just heard? I couldn’t be sure.
“Surprised?”
I was surprised when I realized that Ronald’s lips hadn’t moved—extremely surprised. He had communicated with me using only his mind. I was more than a little confused too. I thought Shepherds couldn’t hear each other’s thoughts while on Earth.
“They can’t.”
Okay, so not only could I hear Ronald’s thoughts, but apparently he could hear mine as well. Paranoia began to fill me. How was this possible?
“Who are you?” I asked Ronald telepathically.
“Someone you should listen to, Evie.”
“How … how do you know my name?”
“Interesting. I was sure the first question you were going to ask me was how I knew you were standing over there despite the fact that you’re invisible? Or how I knew that you had certain abilities? Or even how I knew about your watch?”
I did want answers to each of Ronald’s questions—and to several others.
“You still haven’t told me who you are?”
“In due time.”
“You tell me that you’re someone I should listen to, but then you won’t tell me anything about you. If you won’t even tell me who you are, then how can you expect me to trust what you have to say?” I paused for a moment, unsure if I should ask the one question that was plaguing me the most. I had to ask. I had to know. “Are you a demon?”
Ronald threw his head back and roared with laughter, startling a young woman who had just rounded the corner with her dog. He paid no attention to her or her dog, which was now on full alert, ready to attack anyone who dared approach its owner. Instinctively, I quickly double-checked the rhythm beating in my chest; it was normal.
“Your charge is fine.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Are you a demon?”
“Tell me, do I project something dark and sinister?” Ronald said, still chuckling slightly.
I took a moment and studied Ronald’s heat signature. A hazy, unassuming aura radiated closely around him, curling off of him like cigarette smoke. The aura was not indicative of whether Ronald was good or evil. In fact, his aura seemed oddly … neutral.
“No,” I responded, wondering why I had never noticed his aura before tonight. “But you could be masking your true self; you could have fabricated some type of signature to try to deceive me.”
“I have no intention of deceiving you, Evie. You see, much like you, I am forbidden to lie. And there are certain things about me that I cannot share with you at this time.”
“So are you like some sort of high-ranking Shepherd? Like a member of the Council?” I persisted, attempting to bypass his runaround.
“No. I am not a member of the Shepherd’s Council. I am not a Shepherd at all. I am a higher authority.”
“A higher authority? So, what, the Council answers to you?” I half-joked.
“Something like that,” Ronald responded vaguely.
“Hey, Ronald. Here you go buddy.” Quinn unknowingly interrupted my conversation with Ronald by walking out of the convenience store and offering him a five-dollar bill and a bottle of water.
“Thank you, friend,” Ronald responded in his baritone voice. “And here you go.” He handed Quinn the latest edition of the local newspaper and then began rifling through his pockets for change.
“I don’t need any change. You keep it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” Quinn responded in a somber tone of voice.
“You sound a little glum this evening, my friend. Might I ask what is bothering you so?” Ronald asked.
“Women,” Quinn said matter-of-factly.
“Ah yes, the bearers of forbidden fruit.”
“You could say that again.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much sound advice to offer you in this particular area.”
“I’m beginning to believe that not many do, Ronald,” Quinn sighed. “Besides, you don’t want to hear the details. All I know is that things are all screwed up, and I have no idea how to fix them.”
“Well, I have been told that a sincere apology often helps—even if a man knows not what he has done to offend his female friend.”
“Yeah, well, I went down that road already, and it didn’t help. Ronald, I can honestly say that I think it’s over—for good.”
> “For good, hmm? That sounds so final—so absolute.”
“Huh.” Quinn chuckled to himself and shook his head in mild amusement. “That sounds like something she would say.” He paused for a moment. “Well, thanks for listening to me. It’s late, and I have an early morning tomorrow. I’m gonna head home and try to get some sleep. Night, Ronald.” Quinn saluted him and then turned and walked away.
“Au contraire,” he muttered under his breath, “the night is still young for you, my friend. The night is still young.” Ronald watched Quinn walk away. Then he turned towards me.
“True love is a difficult thing to surrender, isn’t it?” Ronald asked me.
“Apparently it’s easier for some than for others,” I replied coldly.
“We shall see about that, angel. We shall see.”
Before I could ask Ronald any more questions, another patron walked out of the convenience store and struck up a conversation with him about the weather.
“Good night, Ronald.”
“Same to you, angel.”
* * *
When Quinn walked into his apartment, he dumped the plastic bags on the counter without even bothering to put away anything he had just purchased. He grabbed some leftover takeout from the fridge and poked at it for a bit until he eventually put it back. He grabbed a bottle of water, sat down on the couch, and began flipping through cable channels, pausing when he got to the Discovery Channel. The special Quinn had mentioned the night we broke up was being rerun, and he turned off the television.
Quinn walked over to the bookshelf, flipped through a pile of CDs until he found one with a song he wanted to hear, and popped it in. When he set the CDs back down on the shelf, he noticed a scrap of paper sitting there next to them. I recognized it as the notes we had left each other the night before our relationship had ended. He quickly read both sides and then crumpled it up before tossing it into the garbage bin near his computer. He ran his hands through his hair and began pacing the room.
A few minutes later, he walked over to his laptop and sat down. He sat there typing for well over an hour. He was so focused I just assumed he was working from home; I didn’t even bother to see what he was writing. It wasn’t until he was finished that I began to suspect Quinn hadn’t been doing anything work-related at all. There was something in his eyes … he looked troubled. I got the feeling that whatever he had been doing was very personal.
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