I watched as the bartender poured her a diet soda, swept the whiskey bottle out of sight to add a splash, then gave her a lime twist. He handed me back the bottle and Quinn watched as I poured myself another shot. I toasted her before I tipped it back neat.
"Lots of people from high school," I said.
"At least they remember you," Quinn said. "Sienna always hated that I could not make a better impression at social gatherings." She stood up straight and took a step before her shoulders slumped and she turned back to the bar for support. "She always gave me the best advice and I never took it."
"And now you think if you had, things might have been different?" I asked. "You can't do that. It doesn't work that way."
"What doesn't?"
"Life."
"So, it's not worth thinking about?" Quinn asked. Her chocolate brown eyes took on a hard edge.
"No, it’s just there are too many answers to 'what if,' and none of them can change what happened," I said.
"Why are people always so wise and philosophical at funerals?" She gulped her drink and held out the glass for another. "This is why I'm done talking with people. I'm not searching for answers or trying to see the silver lining. I'm just trying to survive."
Quinn thanked the bartender, took her refill, and disappeared into the house. I took two steps to follow her before Mrs. Thomas appeared and blocked my way.
"Owen Redd, we weren't sure you were coming," she said.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Thomas. I should have stopped by sooner." I looked longingly at the whiskey bottle, but knew it was not a good idea to drink in front of Sienna's mother.
Mrs. Thomas had a tendency to overdo everything. She threw herself wholeheartedly into any activity, from chronicling Sienna's successes to redecorating the house to having a few drinks to celebrate her daughter's accomplishments. A few always turned into too many. Or sometimes, it took no drinking at all for her to shift from high speed to sinking ship. Her mood could swing to dire melancholy, and I worried the gentle smile on her lips was a thin facade.
"You probably knew our daughter best of all, and yet no one understands why you two were together." She stared over my shoulder at the bartender until he brought her a glass of white wine. "I used to think of you like the moon, just drifting around her and catching her light. She wa
s the sun, Owen, the bright golden sun." Her breath hitched. "No. A shooting star, I guess."
"She was golden," I said.
"I get it, you know," Mrs. Thomas said. "I get how Sienna could go from way up there to way down here." She looked at the ground and swayed. "I feel it too. Everything lifts you up, up, up and then the air is too thin, you can't breathe, and you crash down. She just wasn't supposed to fall. Someone was supposed to be there to catch her."
She looked up and the flash of hatred was sharp. I pulled back the hand I held out to steady her. Mrs. Thomas blamed me. No wonder Sienna's father had asked me to leave. The longer I stayed, the more people would feel the same way.
I was supposed to be with Sienna. I was supposed to know how she was doing. I should have seen it coming and stopped her. I should have loved her enough to keep her from it.
No one knew I wasn't even with Sienna. But it did not matter anymore.
I dodged past Mrs. Thomas without another word. Anything would set her off. She was hoping I would, and followed me inside. I knew Sienna's mother needed a reason for a scene; she was just keeping it together. I slipped down the side hallway and flipped the light on in the guest bathroom as I went. I shut the door and leapt around the corner just as she came after me. Luckily, the door to the basement was cracked open and I was able to slip downstairs without a sound.
The lights were off except for a bluish glow at the bottom of the stairs. I stepped lightly down and discovered Quinn sitting on the edge of the old leather sofa. She leaned forward as she furiously tapped the video controller. On the large screen television, the world of Dark Flag came into focus.
I stepped around the corner so I could not be seen from the top of the stairs, but I did not say a word. For just a moment, I wanted to watch Quinn in my world. It was like seeing a stranger on the moon and realizing she had always been there.
#
I leaned on the doorframe. It would not be long before Mrs. Thomas decided to look in the basement. I should have gone out the front door. I should have left, but something made me stay. With Sienna gone, I knew once I left that house, I would have no reason to come back. And I wanted a reason.
It was Quinn. In the darkened basement, I could think about it. Just for a moment. In the bluish light from the video game screen, I allowed myself to look at her.
Her chestnut brown hair was thick and soft. It fell in waves to the middle of her back, loose and free. It was the kind of hair I wanted to scoop into my hands. It would run through my fingers like silk. Against her black dress, it was warm with streaks of gold.
The dress was sleeveless, showing the graceful reach of her arms. Quinn was slender and athletic, despite the soft curves of her body. Her arms showed taut muscles as she shifted the controller and tapped in sequences. Long, delicate fingers that could have played the piano or performed surgery flew over the controller.
She leaned forward again, concentrating on the game. In the light from the television screen, I could see her full lips parted. As she focused on a difficult move, her tongue swept across her lower lip. She made me think of ripe strawberries.
I met her a month after Sienna and I started dating. Her hair was loose, her arms looked too long, and her chocolate brown eyes were so wide. For all her teenage awkwardness, Quinn was confident.