hurt a lot to lose my father, but at least I got to spend twelve years with him. Quinton’s mother died giving birth to him and he never got to know her.
“I understand that completely,” I say, opening the dresser drawer. “Even though it took me forever to drive it, I could never imagine getting rid of my father’s car.”
“Did you…” He struggles for words. “Did you ever get that dent fixed that Donny… that… drug dealer put in the fender?”
I’m actually surprised he remembers that, seeing as how he was so out of it when it happened. “Yeah, you can’t even tell it happened anymore.” I place the stack of jeans in the drawer, then walk back over to the bed.
“Yeah, but it did. And it’s my fault it did… I’m sorry, Nova.” He sounds like he’s choking up. “For everything… all that shit that went down in Vegas.”
I pick up a hanger and a shirt. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything. I told you that and I mean it. What happened in the past is in the past. We’re moving forward now. Remember, a clean slate.”
“You sound just like my therapist,” he states as I put the shirt on the hanger. “He keeps pushing me to let go of the past and take down my pictures hanging up in my room… but I don’t want to forget everything. In fact, I need to remember, otherwise it’ll make it easier for me to go back… if I forget all the bad stuff that happened.”
I get what he’s saying, but I still wish he didn’t feel so bad about some of those things. Besides, they weren’t all bad. Like the couple of kisses we shared, the dance. The few talks we had a year and a half ago during the summer we spent together when we first met, getting high and going to a concert. And the couple we had this last summer in Vegas. Those moments were genuine. “I think it’s okay to hold on to the past just a little, but at the same time I know I always feel better when I’m moving forward and letting go. As for the pictures, I actually had all Landon’s boxed up for a long time. I finally took them out and put them in a album, which I look through every once in a while.”
“And it doesn’t hurt to look through them now?” he asks.
I go to the closet and hang the shirt up. “Not really. In fact it feels good to remember some of the stuff, because there were some really good moments.”
He’s quiet for a while. “Still, it feels like everything’s going to fall apart the moment I take them down from the wall. Even in Vegas, I had sketches lying around. I just can’t imagine not having them around me to remind me of… everything.”
“You’ll get there,” I promise, returning to my bed. “I know you will.”
“I sure hope so, otherwise I’m going to have a nagging therapist to answer to every other day.” His tense tone relaxes a smidgen. “Although things could be a lot worse. I could be living in that shitty apartment again in Vegas.”
“You regret that, then?” I’m so glad to hear him say it. “Being in that place?”
“You know what, in the beginning when I was coming down I didn’t,” he says with honesty. “But now, yes. I don’t want to go back to that place again. I think it was a good thing when it burned down… of course I wouldn’t be saying that if anyone got hurt, but some of the stuff that went on there was really fucking bad.”
His comment suddenly reminds me of Delilah. “Speaking of that, can I ask you a question?” My voice carries caution as I slide the remaining clothes to the side and sit down on the bed. “Warning, it’s kind of an intense question.”
“I don’t care,” he says. “I want to help you with whatever it is.”
I hope I’m not crossing a line by asking. “Were you around when the apartment burned down?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. “Yeah, why?” he finally asks with wariness.
“Well, Delilah’s mom called me today, asking if I knew where she was, which was weird since she never cared where Delilah was
“I understand that completely,” I say, opening the dresser drawer. “Even though it took me forever to drive it, I could never imagine getting rid of my father’s car.”
“Did you…” He struggles for words. “Did you ever get that dent fixed that Donny… that… drug dealer put in the fender?”
I’m actually surprised he remembers that, seeing as how he was so out of it when it happened. “Yeah, you can’t even tell it happened anymore.” I place the stack of jeans in the drawer, then walk back over to the bed.
“Yeah, but it did. And it’s my fault it did… I’m sorry, Nova.” He sounds like he’s choking up. “For everything… all that shit that went down in Vegas.”
I pick up a hanger and a shirt. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything. I told you that and I mean it. What happened in the past is in the past. We’re moving forward now. Remember, a clean slate.”
“You sound just like my therapist,” he states as I put the shirt on the hanger. “He keeps pushing me to let go of the past and take down my pictures hanging up in my room… but I don’t want to forget everything. In fact, I need to remember, otherwise it’ll make it easier for me to go back… if I forget all the bad stuff that happened.”
I get what he’s saying, but I still wish he didn’t feel so bad about some of those things. Besides, they weren’t all bad. Like the couple of kisses we shared, the dance. The few talks we had a year and a half ago during the summer we spent together when we first met, getting high and going to a concert. And the couple we had this last summer in Vegas. Those moments were genuine. “I think it’s okay to hold on to the past just a little, but at the same time I know I always feel better when I’m moving forward and letting go. As for the pictures, I actually had all Landon’s boxed up for a long time. I finally took them out and put them in a album, which I look through every once in a while.”
“And it doesn’t hurt to look through them now?” he asks.
I go to the closet and hang the shirt up. “Not really. In fact it feels good to remember some of the stuff, because there were some really good moments.”
He’s quiet for a while. “Still, it feels like everything’s going to fall apart the moment I take them down from the wall. Even in Vegas, I had sketches lying around. I just can’t imagine not having them around me to remind me of… everything.”
“You’ll get there,” I promise, returning to my bed. “I know you will.”
“I sure hope so, otherwise I’m going to have a nagging therapist to answer to every other day.” His tense tone relaxes a smidgen. “Although things could be a lot worse. I could be living in that shitty apartment again in Vegas.”
“You regret that, then?” I’m so glad to hear him say it. “Being in that place?”
“You know what, in the beginning when I was coming down I didn’t,” he says with honesty. “But now, yes. I don’t want to go back to that place again. I think it was a good thing when it burned down… of course I wouldn’t be saying that if anyone got hurt, but some of the stuff that went on there was really fucking bad.”
His comment suddenly reminds me of Delilah. “Speaking of that, can I ask you a question?” My voice carries caution as I slide the remaining clothes to the side and sit down on the bed. “Warning, it’s kind of an intense question.”
“I don’t care,” he says. “I want to help you with whatever it is.”
I hope I’m not crossing a line by asking. “Were you around when the apartment burned down?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. “Yeah, why?” he finally asks with wariness.
“Well, Delilah’s mom called me today, asking if I knew where she was, which was weird since she never cared where Delilah was
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