Saving Quinton
Page 9

“Your dad kind of looks like you,” I tell her and then take a drink from a glass of water, parched and sweaty after being out in the heat. In the photo are two guys, one short and one tall, but their facial features are the same, one’s just a lot younger—Lea’s uncle. It looks like they’ve just gone fishing and Lea’s dad is holding up a fish, looking proud of it. He actually seems really happy, all smiles and pride, and I want to ask her when the picture was taken, how long before he decided to end his life, but I’m not going to because it’ll bring up painful emotions for her. I know, because whenever someone mentions Landon’s name I still feel a sting in my heart.
“Thank you,” she says, then turns away from the photo and plops down on the brown leather couch. She kicks her feet up on the coffee table, picks up the remote from the armrest of the sofa, and aims it at the flat-screen mounted on the wall. “How about we watch a little Ridiculousness?”
I set my glass of water down on an end table, then cross my arms over my chest and walk to the sofa but don’t sit down. “I don’t want to seem crazy or anything, but I really want to go see Quinton before I do anything.”
The television screen clicks on and she glances outside at the sun setting, the sky a palette of colors and the city nearly glowing in the distance. “Nova, it’s getting late…maybe we should wait until morning. I mean, you haven’t even called your mom and told her we got here and you know she’s going to worry.”
“I know.” I sit down on the back of the sofa. “I was actually going to wait to do that until I talked to Quinton first…see how long I’m going to be down here, so I can give her a better idea.”
She sets the remote down on the sofa cushion and turns around to face me. “And how exactly are you going to determine that?”
“I have no idea.” I run my fingers through my dry, limp hair. “I honestly have no idea what the hell I’m doing. All I know is that I have to do…something.”
She presses her lips together, contemplating. “From the papers I printed from the Internet, it sounds like meth addicts can be super moody.”
“I think that’s the case with all drugs, not just meth.”
“Yeah, but meth addicts are worse.”
“I sort of guessed so.” Actually, I didn’t. Actually, I have no idea what I’m doing. Shit, what am I going to say to him when I first see him? Why haven’t I planned this out more? Jesus, Nova.
“Relax,” Lea says, noting my anxiety. “The papers said there’s also support groups and counseling and I’m sure there’s probably something in Vegas…I’ll look into it.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, then grow silent again, staring outside at the city glittering in the distance, wondering where he is. If he’s walking around or at home. Or is he someplace worse? What if the address he gave me isn’t even real and he’s really homeless?
“Oh, for the love of God, Nova.” She gets to her feet, snatching her keys up from the end table. “Let’s go.”
I quickly stand up from the back of the couch. “Right now?”
She rolls her eyes and opens the front door. “If we don’t then you’re going to sit there and space off on me all night.”
She’s probably right, but nerves knot in my stomach. “I feel sick.” I wrap my arm across my belly.
“That’s your nerves.” She moves away from the door and grabs my hand, giving me a gentle tug. “Now come on. I’ll drive so you can space off and over-think stuff.”
“You know me too well,” I say, then glance down at my tank top and shorts, which have a small stain on the hem. “Maybe I should change.”
“You look great.” She pulls me over the threshold and outside. “You always do.” She releases my hand, reaches back inside, turns the lock, and flips on the porch light before shutting the door. Then she tucks the house key into the pocket of her shorts and heads down the cement path toward the car. “Besides, I really doubt he’s going to be focusing on your looks.”
“I know,” I say, rounding the front of the car to the passenger side. “You’re right. I’m just nervous.” Really nervous, to the point where I’m going to throw up. But I force the taste of vomit back down my throat and get in the car, opening up the glove box where I put the piece of paper I wrote Quinton’s address on. Lea gets in and starts the engine, flipping the headlights on while I type the address into the GPS.
I examine the map on the screen. “It says it’s only five miles away.”
“Five miles in Vegas can take quite a while.” She buckles her seat belt and so do I. “And I’m a little worried about the place we’re going to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that there are some areas that are super sketchy.”
“And you’re guessing he’s living in one of these areas?”
“I don’t want to make assumptions. I mean, I’m sure there are plenty of drug addicts who live in nice houses and who you would never think are drug addicts, but…” She trails off, adjusting the rearview mirror.
“But he doesn’t even have a phone or a job,” I say, slumping back in the seat. “So I’m guessing the place he’s living in isn’t fancy, if he even lives in a place…I’ve already thought of this but I still want to go—I need to know, Lea, I need to know what happened to the guy that made me feel things again…”
She offers me a sympathetic smile as she pushes the car into reverse. Lea isn’t the best driver and when she presses the gas she ends up giving it too much and the car jerks backward. My hand shoots out toward the dashboard and I hold on.
Hold on for dear life, knowing I’m going to have to.
Quinton
I feel like I’m dying, coming in and out of consciousness, every bone in my body bruised. I can hear voices, telling me to snap out of it, but I can’t seem to get my eyes to open. I can feel memories returning to me, ones I don’t want to remember and one in particular I’ve made myself forget, yet I can’t seem to stop myself from fading into it.
I’m going to die. I can feel it, through the lack of pain, the numbness in my chest, the coldness in the air. But I’m also warm, from the blood that’s soaked my chest, my clothes, soaked its way from inside me to the outside. It’s the feel of death all over me and I embrace it, knowing that if I do survive, there won’t be anything left for me but anguish and solitude.
I stare up at the sky as I lie beside Lexi, choking on my own tears as I hold her cold, lifeless hand. I focus on the stars, wanting to touch them until they begin to fade, one by one, my heartbeat fading with them. The sky gets darker, along with everything around me, until I can’t see a thing. I can feel my breath leaving me, my chest becoming heavier, but my thoughts becoming lighter. Free.
The ground below me softens, the sky dimming until I can only see blackness. It feels like I’m moving…sinking…or maybe I’m flying…I can’t tell. I don’t care. I just want to keep feeling this way, because it’s taking the pain of Lexi’s death with it. The agony…it’s gone…my guilt…it doesn’t exist. The fact that I ruined our future doesn’t matter, because we’re leaving this world together…
“Quinton…wake up, man…”
Go away…
“Quinton…” Somebody shakes my shoulder. “Seriously, wake up, man…you’re freaking the shit out of me.”
Leave me alone.
“Wake up!” someone shouts.
Just let me die…please…
I just want to die.
God, please just let me die.
Chapter 5
Nova
I’m not sure what to do, what to think, how to process what I’m seeing. Deep down I think I knew, but I didn’t prepare myself very well for it. I should have. I should have told myself that this was what I was going to walk into, so that I wouldn’t be sitting here with my jaw hanging to my knees, feeling like I want to throw up, then curl up in a ball and cry until I run out of tears. My OCD is kicking in and the desire to count the windows on the buildings, the stars in the sky, the lines on the back of my hand, anything so I don’t have to look at the horrible view in front of me, is overpowering.
“You were right,” I say to Lea, dumbstruck as I grip the edge of the seat, my palms damp against the upholstery.
“I know.” She frowns at the view in front of us. “I’m so sorry, Nova…I don’t even know what to say.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell her, opening and shutting my eyes, wishing the view would disappear, but it doesn’t.
“I know, but I’m still sorry,” she replies, her hands gripping the steering wheel.
When the GPS first led us to the two-story apartment building, I thought it’d given us the wrong directions, since the building looked more like a very large abandoned motel than a place where people would live, but after double-checking I painfully realized it was the right place. Half the windows are busted out, some are boarded up, and the rest have curtains hanging up to block the windows, probably to hide what’s going on inside—drugs, prostitution, God knows what else. The building sits away from a road that’s lined with secondhand stores, discount and smoke shops, run-down houses, some looking worse than the apartment building. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s the nicest place on the block.
Lea parks a ways back in the gravel parking lot and then turns off the headlights, like she’s scared someone is going to see us. We lock the doors and leave the engine running. There are hardly any vehicles around and the ones that are parked in the area look like they haven’t moved in ages. There’s a massive billboard near the entryway, but the paint is peeling off and I can’t tell what it used to be an advertisement for. There are also a group of women loitering at the bottom of the stairway, smoking cigarettes, chatting and being really loud. I don’t want to be judgmental, but they look like hookers, wearing tight dresses, bras for tops, and five-inch stilettos or knee-high boots.
We have the air cranked up full blast and the sky is nearly black, the sunlight about to completely disappear behind the horizon. Behind us the city flashes in the distance, neon colors and sparkling sighs, and I can almost feel the electricity in the air.
“What number did you say it was?” Lea asks as she pushes the emergency brake on.
I check the screen of the GPS. “It says twenty-two, but…” I look back up at the building, squinting to see if the doors have numbers on them. Lights on above some of the doors and I can tell some have numbers, but not all of them.
“Maybe we should come back in the morning,” Lea suggests, biting her fingernails as she eyes the group of women near the stairway. Lea has never been part of the drug world and even though she’s gone to parties, they’ve been mellow parties with kegs and wine coolers, where people hang out and dance, not get stoned and either pass out or trip out of their minds.
I want to say yes to her suggestion and tell her we should go home, but at the same time I can’t help but think of the what-ifs. Like what if I walk away right at this moment and something bad happens to Quinton tonight? Or what if he vanishes overnight? Plus, knowing he’s probably right there, in one of the apartments just in front of me, makes it hard to walk away. What if I miss my chance like I did with Landon? What if I leave and never get the courage to come back? What if something bad happens?
Shit.
Nova, stop it.
Stop thinking about the past.
Focus on the future.
“Okay.” I pry my fingers off the edge of the seat, then reach over my shoulder to grab the seat belt. “I’ll come back in the morning when the sun’s up.”
“We’ll come back.” She pops the emergency brake. “I don’t want you coming here alone and I promised your mom I’d take care of you.”
“I feel like a child,” I admit, buckling the seat belt. “And you’re my baby-sitter…I feel like my mom should be paying you or something.”
“She just loves you,” Lea says as she starts to put the shifter forward. “And I’m happy to do it…it’s not like I have anything better to do.”
I hesitate. “Lea, are you sure you don’t want to talk about what happened with you and Jaxon?”
She bites her bottom lip as she fights back the tears. “Not yet…I just can’t yet, okay? Especially not here.”
“Okay…well, I’m here when you’re ready.” I sit back, fidgeting with the leather band on my wrist. I feel restless but attempt to hold still as she starts to back the Chevy Nova out of the parking lot, cranking the wheel to the side. I start to settle down as she gets the car turned around, but then I see a guy walking up beside the car, heading for the apartments with a large bag of ice in his hand.
“Wait a minute…” I mutter, leaning toward the window. “I know him.”
“What do you mean you know him?” Lea asks, pressing on the gas.
I don’t respond, too fixated on an old memory walking just to the side of me, like a ghost. Even in the dark, I recognize Tristan’s blond hair and facial features immediately, although his cheeks are a little sunken and either his pants are just really baggy or he’s lost a lot of weight. Still, I know it’s him.
He looks like he’s in a hurry, smoking a cigarette as he strides for the apartments, his lips moving like he’s talking to himself.