I dab my eyes with my napkin, though no one can see my tears. I don’t think my brother has ever said anything so kind, let alone so complimentary, and I bask in his words, savoring the sweet sound of his approval. Over the past few months, I may have learned I don’tneedit, but I’d be lying to say it wasn’t wonderful all the same.
To my left, Veronica clears her throat, and I hold my breath, wondering if the impossible is about to happen. To my recollection, my sister has never paid me a single compliment that wasn’t backhanded, and I’m both eager and anxious to hear what she’s about to say.
“I’m proud of you, too, Quincy,” she says, sounding almost sincere. “A marathon is a huge accomplishment. Especially since I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run. Unless you count the time you chased after that taco truck.”
Matt and Veronica share a laugh, but I don’t join them. While her anecdote is true, and I’d made a similar joke to Ethan several weeks ago, I don’t find it humorous this time.
“Although…” She trails off thoughtfully. “There was the time we were camping at Lake Arrowhead and tricked you into thinking a bear was trying to tear through your tent. You took off running so fast, you didn’t even bother putting your pants on.”
“I forgot about that!” Matt rumbles with laughter.
My cheeks burn now and tears prick my eyes for an entirely different reason than before. The perfect evening—the one where we enjoyed each other’s company as adults, asequals—has evaporated like a hazy memory.
“I think you’re missing the point of a toast, Veronica.” Ethan’s voice is a low, angry growl.
“Sorry, I got sidetracked,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “To Quincy. For choosing to run for reasons other than fear or food.”
“Hear! Hear!” Matt echoes, as if her words were all in good fun.
A moment of silence follows, and I realize they’re waiting for me to say something, but a response eludes me. Ethan finds my hand and gives it a squeeze of solidarity. Drawing strength from his grasp, I swallow the tightness in my throat. “Thank you all for being here and for this fabulous meal.” While I truly hope I sound sincere, I’m starting to lose any desire to salvage the evening. Right now, I just want to go home.
As if their unkind words were never spoken, my comment elicits another round of guesses as to what our next course will be, and I take the opportunity to excuse myself to use the restroom. I need a few minutes to splash water on my face and reset.
But as I follow the dim markers away from the safety of our table, farther into the sea of black, the darkness envelops me. I’ve only made it a few steps by the time my feet stop working, glued to the floor in panic. I’m about to turn back when I hear Ethan mutter angrily, “What’s the matter with you two?”
“Excuse me?” Veronica huffs.
“You’re supposed to be celebrating Quincy’s accomplishment, yet all you’ve done is put her down.”
“We’re only joking around,” Matt says, sounding a tad defensive.
“Yeah. Quincy knows it’s all in good fun,” Veronica adds, and I balk at the way she speaks for me. I certainly would not describe it asfun.
“Maybe she does. But a person can only take so much of your particular brand of humor. And I, for one, have had enough.”
I know I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but I can’t help myself and shuffle closer, forgetting all about my fear of the dark. And that I need to stick firmly to the guide markers on the floor.
There were a few times when we were younger where Ethan called out Matt and Veronica’s bad behavior, and they didn’t take it well then, either.
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not the boss, isn’t it?”
I nearly laugh out loud at Veronica’s juvenile comeback. I imagine her at ten years old, both arms crossed, her blue eyes narrowed and defiant as she shouts, “You’re not the boss of me, Ethan Delaney!” before sticking out her tongue.
When Ethan speaks again, his voice is softer, almost weary. “Don’t you think it’s time to grow up and put all this jealousy behind you? All Quincy ever wanted was your respect and friendship. You’re her big sister, Veronica. She looks up to you. And yet, thanks to you and your constant put-downs, she can’t see how incredible she is.”
My breath catches in my throat. Ethan thinks I’m incredible? There’s something in his tone when he says it—a tender conviction—that makes my knees tremble slightly. Instinctively, I take a step toward the sound of his voice, and at that exact moment, collide with a heavy object.
I hear a grunt, then the loud clang of something heavy and metallic hitting the floor, followed by shattering glass. A startled woman screams, and in the commotion and confusion, someone flicks on the lights.
I wince as my eyes adjust to the brightness, then cringe as accusatory stares dart in my direction.
“Are you okay?” Rowen asks.
“I’m fine. But I’m so, so sorry, Rowen. I got up to use the restroom and must’ve veered from the markers.” Every inch of my body burns with embarrassment, both from ruining everyone’s dining experience and because I was quite clearly caught eavesdropping.
“It’s all right, ma’am. These things happen. Please return to your table and we’ll clean this up.”
Brimming with remorse, I cast a contrite glance at the mangled remnants of our second course while two women dressed in solid white emerge from the kitchen, and head straight for us.