The Keeping Score Box Set

by Tawdra Kandle

  He managed a weak smile. “Wish I could agree with you. But you know me, Quinn. No filter. No small talk. And I want to tell you something now. I need to do it today. It can’t wait.”

  I frowned as I sat down again next to the sofa. “Okay. I’m here. You tell me what you need to, but then you sleep some, okay? You need your rest to recover.”

  “Fine.” He settled himself more comfortably and looked down at my long slim fingers folded against the back of his hand. “I love the feel of your hand in mine. I always have, since we were little.”

  My stomach rolled. There was something in his voice that scared the shit out of me. “So what’s happening, Nate? What’s so important that you have to get it out now?”

  “Dr. Randall talked to me just before he let me go.” Nate played with a long thread on the edge of the blanket that covered him. “He said there’s no doubt my disease is progressing.”

  This wasn’t completely unexpected, since Sheri had said something along these lines during our talk in the hospital. My eyebrows drew together as I focused on what it really meant. “Okay. Well—what are they going to do? A new protocol? Do you need to take a leave from school?”

  He shook his head slowly. “There isn’t anything else new on the horizon. Not at the moment, anyway. From this point on, they’re going to focus on maintaining.”

  I knew, logically, what Nate was trying to say. But I couldn’t believe it, not really. I didn’t want to accept it. “Maintain. All right, well, that’s doable, isn’t it? Keep taking your meds, and then you’ll be ready when the next new treatment comes along.”

  “Quinn.” He was looking at me steadily, patiently. “That’s not what’s going to happen. I’ve known for the past year that the symptoms were getting worse, even though I hoped—but the doctors can see the decline on a cellular level.” He paused, and I could tell he was struggling with his next words. “I don’t know the exact timeline, but I know what the end result is going to be. My body is shutting down, and . . . I’m going to die.”

  I thought I was going to be sick. My throat burned and my middle clenched. “Don’t say that, Nate. Just . . . don’t.”

  “I have to say it. We’ve got to be honest with ourselves and with each other, because if we don’t, we’re just wasting time. I’m not going to do that when every minute is precious.”

  “Okay.” I nodded and sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Okay. What . . . how long?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Maybe six months, possibly a little longer.”

  The tears I’d been battling filled my eyes. “Nate, I can’t do this. I can’t lose you. You’re my best friend, and I can’t . . .” The band around my chest constricted until I couldn’t breathe or talk.

  “You can. I need you, Quinn. And I’m going to need your help. And . . . something else, too.” For the first time since I’d come into the room, he looked unsure and nervous, his face losing its resolve.

  I held his hand in both of mine and lifted it to my lips, kissing the knuckles. “Anything. You know that. Anything at all.”

  He gave a shaky laugh. “Don’t say that before you hear what I want. Don’t promise something you might not be able to deliver.”

  “Unless you’re going to ask me to put a pillow over your face, you can pretty much count on me coming through for you. When have I ever let you down?”

  “Never.” He answered quickly, staring deep into my eyes. “You’ve never let me down, Quinn, not in almost twenty-two years of friendship. And God, I’ve been a demanding friend. When I look back, I can see how selfish I’ve been. I always wanted you, and only you, and you gave me anything I wanted, even when it wasn’t in your best interest.”

  A sob stuck in my throat. “No. You were never—”

  “Quinn, don’t try to whitewash our history. You sat next to me on the playground every day for years, when I know you wanted to be out playing with the other kids. With the normal kids. You chose me over Leo when we were younger, even when I knew you wanted to be with him. And I was such a jerk, I let you make that choice, and I told myself it was okay. Nothing in my life was fair. I hated not being able to run and play kickball or just be fucking typical, but I thought having you made up for that. I guess maybe I felt entitled to your time and attention.”

  “I never resented giving it to you.”

  Nate smiled. “I know. That’s what makes this both easier and harder. Easier, because you’ve never made me feel bad for needing you, and harder because I know this last thing I’m going to ask of you is probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.”

  I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. “You’re scaring me now. Just tell me what you need, and if it’s in my power, I’ll do it.”

  He sat up a little straighter, and his face flushed. “I wish I could do this differently. God, I wish I could do just one thing like regular people do.” He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the the effort. “Okay. For someone whose days are numbered, I’m doing a lot of stalling.” He licked his lips, pressed them together for a second, and then lifted his gaze to meet mine.

  “I want you to marry me, Quinn.”

  If I were honest, I’d expected something along these lines. Part of me had sensed that maybe he was going to ask me to love him—really love him, be his official girlfriend, to sleep with him—for whatever time he had left. But hearing him say those words made me dizzy.

  Before I could reply, he hurried on. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I want to be married to you, and if we had the luxury of time, I’d keep . . . wooing you, I guess, as long as it took until you really loved me, too. Until you wanted to marry me as much as I want you. We’d do things the normal way. But we don’t. I don’t. I can’t wait for you to fall in love with me for real. So I’m doing the most selfish thing I’ve ever done and playing the dying friend card.”

  “Nate.” I couldn’t say more than his name.

  “I want you with me for as long as I have. And I want the gratification of being able to call you my wife. I want to give my parents the memory of a wedding. They haven’t had anything like the typical experience with me as their kid, but this I can give them, if you help me. I already talked to them about this. They were surprised . . . but they’ll go along with whatever we decide.”

  Everything was swirling around in my head. And I could only think of Leo. When I’d pictured someone proposing to me, it had always been Leo. I could see him, in my mind’s eye, kneeling before me, my hand in his, and I could feel the excitement and love we’d feel, standing on the edge of the rest of our lives together.

  But instead, I was sitting next to my other best friend, the one who probably had less than a year to live. And he was asking me to give him a portion of my own life. How could I deny him this? How could I say no to him, when this was all he was asking of me?

  “Look at it this way.” He was still speaking, but his eyes had dropped to fasten on our still-joined hands. “It’s a limited time marriage. I promise you, Quinn, I’m not going to be around to celebrate our golden anniversary. Most likely I won’t make it to our first one.” He leaned in, looking at me again. “But I promise that for as long as I do have, everything in my life will be focused on making you as happy as I can. You’ll have my heart and soul for as long as it’s mine to give.”

  I bit my lip and tried to catch my breath. I knew I had to give him an answer, but my voice wouldn’t work.

  “Quinn. Please. Just say yes.”

  Vulnerability and uncertainty battled on his face, and in a mad rush of memory, I saw everything Nate had been to me. I remembered the awkward toddler, learning to maneuver the walker that Leo and I didn’t need. I saw his lurching swagger when he was finally able to manage walking on his own. I saw the boy who saved me a swing every day, so the two of us could sit on the sidelines of the playground, and the teenager whose love for me had been steady and real for as long as I had lived.

  All of that gave me the strength I needed
to utter one word.

  “Yes.”

  Senior Year

  April

  I hadn’t had a hangover like this for a long, long time. My head was pounding, and my mouth was like a roll of cotton. For a long disoriented moment, I couldn’t remember where I was or why I was awake. One hand groped out, reaching for Quinn, before my traitorous mind remembered the truth.

  She’s not in your bed. She hasn’t been in your bed for over a year. And she’s fucking marrying someone else.

  The pain stabbed again, just as sharp and fresh as it had the first time I’d heard the news. Quinn had made sure it came from her, and she’d actually called me, explaining what was going on. I’d run through the gamut of emotion from grief over Nate’s news to anger over what he was asking of Quinn to hurt over the fact that she’d agreed.

  Quinn was engaged to Nate. They were getting married in two months. I didn’t have to do much mental arithmetic, because the countdown ticked away in my brain on a daily basis.

  On the bedside table next to me, my phone sounded, and I realized that was what had awakened me. Its insistent ring and vibration paused and then started up again. Clearly someone was trying to get through to me and wasn’t going to give up.

  I frowned as I focused my bleary eyes on the screen and answered. “Gia? What’s up?” I didn’t hear from her very often, and worry for Quinn and for Nate threaded through me.

  “Leo, do you know where Matt is?” I heard the concern in her voice. “He’s not with you, is he?”

  “Ah . . .” I rubbed my neck and tried to think. “I don’t know if he’s home. He didn’t go out with us last night, and I just woke up. What’s going on?”

  “He tried to call me last night. Like, a lot. Ten times, maybe more. I lost my phone, thought I’d left it in someone’s car, and then I just found it this morning in my other bag—God, that doesn’t matter. He left one message, and I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say.” She sniffled, and I heard her take a long breath. “Leo, I’m worried about him.”

  “Yeah.” I raked one hand over my hair. The truth was, we were all worried about Matt, even more than normal. Since he’d been kicked off the team last fall, he’d gradually stopped going to classes, and there was no way he was going to graduate next month. His grandfather had called me occasionally, asking if there was anything we could do to help get Matt back on track. I’d refrained, barely, from telling the man that his concern was too little, too late. If his grandparents had cared back in high school, we might not be watching him spiral now.

  And then two weeks ago, Gia had come down for an unexpected visit. I’d had to sit in my bedroom in misery, listening as she told Matt that they were over, for good.

  “I can’t do this anymore.” Her voice had been filled with such anguish that it brought tears to my eyes. “Matt, I love you. I’ve loved you for four years, but God, you destroy me. Loving you has made me happier than anything else, ever, but it’s also almost killed me. I want to believe you can turn things around, but I don’t think you can do it while I’m part of your life. Or maybe I’m not strong enough to give you what you need to get better.”

  “Gia, no.” Matt had actually begged her, which was out of character for him. “Please. Just give me another chance. I’m pulling it together, baby. I’m going to stop drinking, and I was thinking . . . I could go finish up school at Birch, with you. I can make it happen, baby.”

  “How many fucking times have you promised me everything was going to get better, Matt? How many fucking times have you broken my heart? You think I don’t know you’re still dicking around? You think I don’t see the pictures, hear the stories? No, Matt. I’m done. I’m sorry, but it’s over.”

  It had all gone downhill from there, with Matt shouting obscenities at Gia until she finally fled the apartment, sobbing.

  “Was this the first time you’ve heard from him since . . . since you were here?” Matt hadn’t mentioned her name once since that night.

  “Yeah. He texted me once, but it didn’t mean anything. That’s why I was freaking out this morning, when I saw all his calls. Can you check and see if he’s in his bedroom?”

  “Ah, sure.” I stood up, giving my head a minute to stop spinning before I opened my bedroom door and walked the few steps to Matt’s. “Hold on, Gia.”

  I knocked on the door, not too hard at first, and then with increasing volume. When I didn’t hear anything from inside the room, I opened it and looked inside.

  Matt’s bed was empty, which didn’t surprise me, but what was odd was that the bed was made. His room was neat, as though he’d done his sort-of annual cleaning last night. Matter of fact, I was pretty sure I’d never seen Matt’s room look so good.

  I lifted the phone to my ear again. “No, he’s not here, Gia. I’m sorry.”

  She blew out a long breath. “Shit. Okay. You said he didn’t go out with you last night. Where was he?”

  I cast my mind back. “Uh, he was here. I went out with some guys from the team, though, and you know he won’t hang with them anymore. Tate drove us. Matt said . . .” What the hell had he said? “He said he needed a little downtime, and he’d see me later.” Now it began to come back to me, and with the memory came an overwhelming sense of foreboding. “Gia. When I left, Matt hugged me. He told me not to worry about him, just to go have a good time.” Why hadn’t I picked up right then that something was off? Matt never said shit like that. Why had I been so wrapped up in my own misery that I’d missed my friend’s odd words?

  “My God. Leo, you’ve got to find him. Where would he go?”

  “I have no idea. He doesn’t have any other friends down here anymore, not that I know of. He almost never leaves the apartment, unless he’s going to a bar or the liquor store or—”

  “Or to score drugs or women, right? I’m not stupid, Leo, and you don’t have to protect me from Matt. Not now.”

  I opened my mouth to answer her, but before I could, the doorbell rang. Relief flooded through me.

  “Gia, that’s probably him at the door. He’s always forgetting his damn keys. Let me talk to him, and then I’ll call you back and let you know what’s going on.”

  “No.” She was adamant. “Don’t you dare hang up this phone, Leo. I want to hear now.”

  “Fine.” I unlocked the door and swung it open. “Dude, you are in so much . . .” My voice trailed off at the sight of Coach on the other side. “Gia, it’s not Matt.”

  “Leo, son.” Coach’s face was somber, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think his eyes were red. “I need to come in and talk to you.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I stepped back and covered the mouthpiece of the phone, holding it up. “Matt’s girlfriend—well, his ex-girlfriend, I guess—is trying to find him. Let me just tell her that I’ll call her back.”

  Coach was never known for hiding his emotions, and this morning wasn’t any exception. I saw the expression on his face when I said Matt’s name, and suddenly, I knew. I just knew.

  “Gia. Hold on a second.” I lowered the phone from my ear, but I didn’t hang up. “Tell me. Just tell me. Please.”

  His mouth shook. “God, Taylor, I fucking hate this. Fucking hate this shit. Okay.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Got a call this morning from the cops in town. They’d been at a motel . . . someone from the housekeeping staff found him. Found Matt. He’d left a note, and he’d asked them to call me, not you.” His face crumbled. “The fucker didn’t want you to find out from the police. Goddamn. He knew I’d come to you.”

  “What did he do?” I couldn’t speak above a whisper.

  “Pills. He took a shit load of pills, the cops think probably last night. By the time the housekeeper found him, he was . . . he was long gone, son. Cold. Nothing they could do.”

  “Did they try? Did they even fucking try to bring him back?” I was shouting. “Or did they throw him away, write him off like everyone else fucking did?”

  “Leo, it was too late. He’s dead. Matt . .
. he was a tortured soul, son. We did everything we could to help him, but sometimes—”

  “No, we fucking did not.” I was wild now, ranting. “It was just easier to cut him, to toss him off the team, to say he was a loser, a fuck-up and no one even tried—”

  A noise from the phone next to me caught my attention. I’d forgotten about Gia for a minute, but now I heard her cries. With a shaking hand, I raised the phone again.

  “Gia. He’s gone. He fucking committed suicide.”

  On the other end, she was emitting a sound I hadn’t heard for a long time. Not since the morning after Quinn’s father had been killed. The keening, anguished noise ripped out what was left of my heart.

  “Leo?” As if I had summoned her by my thoughts, Quinn’s voice floated over the phone. “God, is it true? Matt?”

  “Yeah.” A sob wracked me. “Tell Gia . . . tell her I’m going to take care of everything. Tell her I’m bringing Matt home.”

  Matt Lampert had never been much of a planner, but he’d managed his suicide with a precision that would’ve changed his life, had he applied it there. He’d cleaned his room, as I’d noticed, and when I opened his closet, I’d found his clothes bagged. In his duffel bag were all the personal items that might mean something to me, to his grandparents and to Gia.

  At the motel room where he’d ended his life, the police had found only two notes. The first was the one Coach had referenced, a polite missive requesting that the authorities notify Coach Demby, who would then know how to proceed.

  The second note was a piece of paper with Gia’s name written on top, and it had only two words on it.

  I’m sorry.

  The coach had offered to help me with anything I needed, but I tried to do everything myself. I owed that much to Matt. I called his grandparents and broke the news, and with their guidance, I made arrangements for Matt’s body to be cremated locally.

  And then I brought him home.

  Matt’s memorial service took place on a beautiful April morning, one of those days with clear blue skies, bright sunshine and soft breezes. His grandparents were members of the Episcopal church in town, so that was where they held the service. The sanctuary wasn’t big enough to hold everyone who came, so they had to broadcast the priest’s words outside, where the overflow sat on folding chairs on the church lawn.