"Quinn, wait, let me drive you home," Trent said. He caught up to me and gave a sad smile when he saw my face. "Yeah, I know. You wish it was him chasing you. I wished you would have chased me to Vegas that night."
"The night you embarrassed everyone and tried to flaunt your 'boy toy' in my face?" I asked.
"I was trying to make you jealous, I guess. It was awful. I know," he said. "If it makes you feel any better, Owen's a wreck."
"How is that supposed to make me feel any better? Here I'm trying to help and nothing helps," I said.
"Quinn, sweetie, it’s not up to you to save everyone," Trent said.
Sienna flashed through my mind so sharp that I bent over as if her memory cut me. The tears started, ones that should have been shed long ago, and I could not stop. Trent helped me into his car, got in, and locked the doors.
"What are you crying about?" he asked. "It’s about her, isn't it?"
"She was mean," I said. "No one ever believed it, but she could be really mean. Still, I loved her. I only wanted her to be happy. I spent my entire life trying to keep her happy. Owen understands that. Maybe that's all we had. Maybe it was all wrong."
"I don't think any of that," he waved up to the still-crowded apartment, "has anything to do with your sister. I think that is a man who has loved you for a long time and let himself get scared."
"How would you know that?"
"Let me see, you two got close, like really intimate close, and it felt really good. Then, a bunch of his friends came around and he felt good enough to cut loose. Then, he drank too much and freaked himself out. The more he drank, the more he felt for you and the more he drank because it was a scary feeling. Then, he did something he never intended to do and it screwed everything up," Trent said.
"Yeah, maybe. That might be right," I conceded. "It seems like something that might happen. I just wish it wouldn't keep happening to me."
Trent kissed my cheek. "How about I make you a deal? I'll drive you home and then I'll go back to the party and nut-punch Owen if he tries to do anything stupid again."
I laughed. "What's my end of this honorable bargain?"
"Just let me try to be your friend?"
"I'll try, but I might have to see it to believe it," I said.
Chapter Twenty-One
Quinn
I got home and found a note from my father. They had gone out to their favorite pasta bar for dinner. He promised to bring me home shrimp linguini – Sienna's favorite. The silly mistake broke free another sob from my chest.
The tears blinded me as I went upstairs. I ended up in Sienna's room, in the armchair where I had sat so many times and watched her get ready. My parents had shut the door on her room when she left for college. It was a shrine just waiting in case she ever came home. My room was almost the same except for the addition of my mother's treadmill and two old dressers she had bought with the idea of renovating them in
to shabby chic masterpieces.
"I miss you," I said to her perfect room. I had to squeeze my eyes shut to ward off the last image I had of her. "I hope you know I hate you. I hate you for leaving me with this whole mess."
I opened my eyes and focused on the photographs on her wall. Sienna dancing in our backyard, Sienna in her cheerleader uniform, Sienna and I in matching dresses for an Easter party.
"I know, I know, it’s my mess," I said. "You were never good with messes. I can't walk away, though. You always moved forward, moved on, but I can't."
Sienna had moved on and left me behind again. She had made a mess she did not know how to clean up and her suicide was only supposed to be a cry for help. I knew that now. She had just cut too deep and waited too long.
Now, Owen was in a mess and refused to help himself.
"It just hurts too much right now," I told Sienna. "I'll help him. I know you would want me to, but right now, I just wish you were here."
I could see her standing in front of her closet, her hands on her hips. Sienna would have told me to focus on myself, make a plan. What did I want tomorrow to look like?
At least that was becoming clearer. The more I thought about becoming an EMT, the more sense it made. I had liked nursing because I liked helping people, but the idea of walking the same white halls day in and day out made me feel trapped. It was too settled, too stationary, and I wanted to move. If I completed my training and earned my certification as an EMT, I would have more freedom.
Sienna had been right about looking to the future. It calmed me and made me feel better. I had a plan, and there was something I could do towards it. I wanted to earn the money for my training on my own. All I had to do was log on and try out more of the new Mars game. It felt good to have a clear way towards what I wanted. It was much easier than thinking about Owen.