Chapter 4

Quinn

Despite being only a few hours away, I hadn’t been to Raleigh in years—choosing instead to remain in the quirky mountain town of my college roots. The drive to Raleigh was soothing, allowing me several hours to myself, listening to soft music on the radio and finding new ways to tell myself that everything was going to be okay.

It had to be.

Emery and I hadn’t spoken since that day at the bar. I still felt her words, echoing in my mind. She’d slept with my boyfriend, the man I’d thought I’d be married to in a year’s time. And she’d done it without batting a damn eye lash and without apology. Bitch!

Since then, I’d hardly been able to spend time in my apartment. I felt their presence in every nook and cranny. I imagined him bringing her there when I wasn’t around, kissing her on the couch we’d picked for its soft cushions, pouring her wine into the glasses my mother had given us for a move-in present.

Of course, I had heard from Chris, quite a few times. His messages were staggered and drunken, showing his regret. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I fucked up. Please. Forgive me.”

I couldn’t forgive him though. It was time to move on.

North Carolina State University had called me for an interview the week before. The lab was tucked in the heart of the university campus, beneath a gorgeous line of elm trees and down a steep set of whitewashed stairs. Blinking into the darkness of the underground, I found myself peering at the lab leader, a man named Everett, who shook my hand and said, “Quinn? What a pleasure it is to finally meet you. I’ve been going through your college transcripts this week and have to say—I’m very impressed.”

Everett led me into a side office area, far from the actual experiments, and asked me to sit across from him. A tiny window in the top right corner showed spurts of green grass, the only assurance that the outside world still existed.

Everett flipped open his folder, grinning beneath white-rimmed glasses. Leaning forward, he began the interview, “So. Quinn. Tell me. What attracts you so much to our establishment, here at North Carolina State? And what interests you in sleep study?”

My brain rallied between, ‘this place is far enough away from my scheming ex-boyfriend and best friend, for one,’ but I quickly tucked those thoughts away.

I finally formed answers, one by one, to his questions. I sensed his assurance that I was the right one for the job, from question two. And by the end of the hour, he was telling me his secretary would send me a contract in the coming hours, and that I should look into moving here as soon as I could.

“We’ll probably start you in the next week or two when classes begin,” he said, bringing his hands together and rubbing them together, excitement fueling him. “And until then, good luck with your move!”

It’s strange when you make a big decision in your life, one that rips you from all you’ve ever known. You make the motions of your normal life, but your muscles feel strange as if you’ve never used them in this manner before. As I drove away from the office, I felt my arms guide me through the streets of Raleigh, past gorgeous homes, with ancient trees growing from sturdy roots; beside the swimming pool, which echoed with the screams of one hundred kids, all of them celebrating the hours after school. Guiding my car through another neighborhood, I paused in front of a one-story home, tiny enough for a single person, with a large tree out front. The house had a ‘FOR SALE’ sign out front, with large, empty windows, void of curtains.

Next door, I spotted a truck in the front, sturdy, a bit rusted from use, with a tiny pink hat on the front dashboard. My heart swelled with the memory of my own father, driving me to and from tennis practice, laughing as I wore my mother’s sunglasses and gabbed to him about my obsession with all things science, about how I wanted a dog more than I ever wanted a boyfriend.

Whoever lived next door—a family, a father—offered a glimpse into another life I’d once led. Before people I’d trusted had betrayed me; before I’d been faced to find another world.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was writing the phone number of the realtor on my fast food napkin. I would head back to Raleigh as soon as they asked me, just to check out the house.

The realtor was a gorgeous woman named Sandra, with fake nails and a tendency to incorrectly and overuse the word ‘literally.’ She led me through the empty house, explaining that the home had belonged to a man who had to move to Alaska for ‘business reasons,’ which I couldn’t imagine. As I eased my fingers across the barren fireplace, imagining a life for myself there, she mentioned—dryly, that her black lab had a bunch of puppies she needed to get rid of.

“I don’t suppose you know anyone looking for a dog?” she asked me. “Because they’re destroying everything in the house. Shredding the pillows. I mean, the kids love them. But they’re eight weeks, now, and it’s just time, you know?” Her fingers looked itchy as if she wanted a smoke. Bits of black fur covered her pink skirt, a reminder of the mess at her home.

Tilting my head, an idea began to transform in my mind. As a smile stretched across my face, the sun flashed in through the open window. I couldn’t replace the life I’d led with Chris. But I could make it something different. Something brighter.

“Could I meet them first?”

The black lab pup, which I named Randy—after an old cartoon I’d watched with my dad as a kid—made the trip back to Asheville with me to prepare for the big move. The pup scrambled around the car, nibbling at the edges of the seats and panting up at me. I swatted at him as I drove, giggling at the manic way he chased after my hand.

I could already tell I would love him forever.

The packing took only a few days. I used boxes from the lab, ducking in to steal them when Emery wasn’t there, and then filling them with my things. They were mostly books, but also my bug collection, my science writings and of course my diploma. I hired a moving van, just to bring over the big things like the couch and bed. Things I couldn’t replace, yet, that I hoped wouldn’t reek of the memory of Chris when they were positioned in another home.

Randy had taken the spot where Chris had slept.

The last night before I was prepping to leave, I heard the knock on the door. It was three sharp blasts, then a drunken howl. Lurching toward it, wearing only a nightgown, I found myself staring into the dark blue eyes of Chris. Immediately, my heart began to hammer.

“You can’t do this,” he said. Bursting in through the door, he wrapped his hands around my waist.

“Chris—get off of me—” I whispered, shoving him away.

With a gasp, he stepped back, blinking wildly. “Why don’t you want me anymore?” he asked. His arms hung at his side, making me think—for perhaps the first time—what a child he was.

I stood in the midst of boxes, too exhausted to argue. Pointing toward the open door, I murmured. “Please, Chris. You’ve done enough. Why won’t you just leave me alone? Let me get on with my life.”

At that moment, Randy lunged forward, grasping Chris’ ankle. Whimpering with alarm, Chris bolted down and removed the dog’s mouth from his skin. Soft indents formed. “You got a dog, Quinn?” Chris asked me, his voice weak. “We always talked about doing that together.”

I shrugged, allowing all of my last regrets about Chris to fade from me. My arms lowered toward the ground. I wrapped them around Randy, raising him toward my chest, and held onto him tightly—like my teammate, the only one on my side. He sniffed at my necklace then wrapped his teeth around it, companionably, like it belonged to him.

“After what you and Emery did to me,” I said, my voice soft. “I never want to see either of you again, Chris. Can you understand that? Can you respect that?”

Chris backed away from me; his hands stretched high. He understood the invisible boundary. My body was no longer his. As he staggered, drunken, he nearly thrust himself down the steps toward the pavement below. But in a last-minute effort, he gripped the railing and held on tight as his eyes blinked back up at me one last time.

“Good bye, Chris,” I said, slamming the door closed.

I didn’t check to make sure he was all right.