Page 78 of A Sea of Unspoken Things
When I opened the door to the diner, the conversation inside quieted, and this time, the people seated along the counter and at the tables weren’t just looking at me. Quinn’s cashmere sweater, suit jacket, and tortoise-rimmed glasses made him stand out against the sea of flannel and denim.
He scanned the room with another polite smile, but it fell a little when no one seemed to smile back. I could see the questions spinning behind their eyes, the curiosity bordering on suspicion. In the last week, Six Rivers had been filled with the kind of strangers these people weren’t used to. Police, investigators, social workers. A man in dress shoes with a city haircut was another to add to the list.
“Not very friendly, are they?” he murmured.
But when I looked up at Quinn, his humor was still intact, which was a credit to him. “Not really, no.” I stifled a laugh.
Sadie came out from the back, her steps faltering a little when she spotted me. It took a few seconds, but she attempted a warm smile, her posture a little sheepish. I hadn’t seen her since Ben was questioned, but now that her son was out from under the spotlight, she was trying to smooth things over. That part of her personality wasfamiliar to me, even after all these years. She burned hot, but eventually she came around. She always did.
“Hey, James.” Her hands twisted around the rag in her hands. “What can I get you all?”
“Just a couple of coffees,” I answered, only meeting her eyes for a second.
She nodded, reaching for the mugs, and I swallowed hard when I realized the only open table in the diner was Johnny’s booth. I led Quinn toward it, trying to relax the tension in my shoulders.
“I ran into Rhia the other day.” He slid into the booth. “She says the show is shaping up nicely.”
I took a seat, trying my best to ignore the rush of cold that filled my body. Outside the window, the view flickered in and out, the clock rewinding to a scene in autumn. The snow-crusted sidewalk was suddenly replaced by cracked cement littered with pine needles, and the sky was gray. The sounds of the diner changed, too, going quiet as if the place was mostly empty.
I pushed the vision away, trying to center myself in the present moment by focusing my eyes on Quinn’s hands folded on the tabletop.
“I was thinking of going,” he said, ducking his head a little to try and meet my gaze. “To the show.”
I blinked, the realization hitting me. That’s what this was—Quinn hadn’t just come all this way to pick up Johnny’s research. He’d come to make a gesture. For the last year, he’d been trying his hand at the unhurried, subtle type. And after Johnny died, he’d mostly backed off. Now, he was testing the waters, and by the look of it, he was nervous.
I hadn’t meant to string Quinn along, but he wasn’t the type of man you just hooked up with or invited over when you were lonely. He was warm and cultured. Successful. He had passion and focus. But someone like Quinn just felt so…permanent.
Sadie appeared at the edge of the table, setting down the mugs and a small pitcher of creamer, eyeing me. “Just let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks,” I choked, reaching up to loosen the collar of my shirt.
Slowly, the sounds of the diner resurfaced, the view out the window becoming static. The moment—the memory—was gone, making me feel like I could finally breathe.
I slid the parcel across the table, fingers slipping from the brown paper wrapping, and Quinn looked at it for a moment before he set a hand on top. I hadn’t answered his question about the show, and it wasn’t a completely smooth change in subject, but he let me off the hook.
“You’ve no idea what his contribution means to this project, James. What it will mean for the generations to come,” he said.
But I did have some idea. For the last few weeks, Johnny’s words had been on a loop in my mind.
What the fuck are we even here for?
He’d been asking that question for a long time, and I felt now like he’d just been trying to do something good.
“It’s in good hands. Don’t worry,” Quinn said, reading my face.
I cupped my hands around the mug to keep them from feeling empty without the parcel. “You didn’t really know Johnny.” I paused. “But this project was important to him. Gave him a purpose. It means a lot that you gave him this chance.”
Quinn had given Johnny an opportunity that had changed Johnny’s life. For better and for worse. I could see now that everything that led to the moment he died had more to do with the randomness of things, the unpredictability of the universe, than it had to do with me. I’d tried to control it all for so long only to find that in a way, none of it mattered. And yet, all of it did.
“Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner when you get back?” Quinn asked, a slight apprehension in his eyes. “Maybe we can try this thing for real this time?”
In that single look, I could see an entire future. A sequence of events that aligned with the life I’d built for the last twenty years. Prix fixe tasting menus, an apartment in the Marina District, a seat on the San Francisco Arts Council. It was all a far cry from the life that I could live here.
Don’t go back to San Francisco.
Micah’s deep, breathy voice was still alive against my lips, but it was just the remnants of a long-lost dream. Coming back here was like falling back into the dark. I didn’t want to live a haunted life. But across the table sat a whole reality at the tip of my fingers, with a good man in a place that had been my refuge when I left Six Rivers. All I had to do was reach out and take it.
Twenty-Seven