And I Owe It All To You

Chapter One: The Ride

            New Haven was just an hour and a half away, but yet Quinn hadn’t visited even once for almost eight months. She should have visited though; Rachel was always a good friend to her. Hell, she even knew about the gardenia, did Rachel really think she would believe Finn knew that?

            But Finn is gone and Quinn should have visited Rachel. For support at the very least, but she was afraid. Afraid Rachel hasn’t forgiven her for all she’s put her through. Afraid she would bring up bad memories for Rachel, when she didn’t need them at all. Afraid Finn’s death would bring up bad memories for her and all her past mistakes that have all but disappeared. Quinn still suffers for her biggest one. The one she thinks about every day.

She should consider herself lucky. Lucky she was able to get an Amtrak train cabin all to herself on such short notice. She had her thoughts all alone. She needed this.

            Quinn gripped her pencil tighter and stopped tapping it on the window sill. She watched the different shrubberies run together like a melting pot of different shades of green and tan crayon. She couldn’t think about anything else. Those lips pressed up to her temple gracing her forehead with a gentle kiss. Her fingers intertwined with his, never planning on letting go.

            The train slowed as the shrubbery turned into pale, grey concrete. Slowly the subtle yet intrusive roar of the wheels against tracks came to a stop, only to be replaced with the muffled random sounds of a crowd. Quinn stood up and slid her notebook into her little light brown bag. She always packed lightly, because if something happened to her bag, she didn’t want to be lacking in clothing back home. Quinn made one more glance out the window and her eyes were immediately drawn to a bleach blonde woman in a blood red pea coat. The woman was looking down at the ground expectantly, as if she were waiting on the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

Quinn’s mind began to race to conclusions she drew far too early. She wondered if she had been left alone at the train station, yet another time, waiting for someone who might never come. She wondered if the woman had made the same mistake she did and came here every day, in an effort to never forget something that was long lost.

The woman looked up to face the crowd with a confused yet elated look on her face, turning her head sixty degrees either way, until she found what she was looking for. A tall man rushed toward the woman and wrapped his muscular arms around her. She looked him in the eyes for only a few seconds before embracing him with a kiss. Quinn looked away; she would never know their story. Did he forgive her for her mistake and come back to the love she missed for so long? Or was he just returning home from a long business trip? It didn’t matter anyways, they were strangers and this wasn’t Quinn’s stop.

Quinn sat back down and pulled her notebook back out. She had a paper to write. With her index finger and thumb she delicately pulled the pencil out of the metal binding and began to write in her familiar handwriting, a cursive and print mixture with an abundance of dainty swirls. She wrote only a few words, “Theatre History: Antigone,” before her mind began to wonder once again. She imagined the beautiful lips only he had, barely touching her ear, whispering some joke she hardly understood, but yet so easily made her giggle. She imagined those lips again, interlocking with hers in a hesitant way, afraid she wasn’t in the mood. Soon his shoulders would lose tension and relax. He would let his hand fall on her upper thigh slightly under her uniform skirt. His lips would loosen too as the kisses became more forceful and more passionate.

Quinn sighed. How she longed for that just one more time, she would never make him stop there again. “Mistakes are what make a person.” She whispered, quietly trying to reassure herself she’ll be okay without him ever again.

The pencil Quinn gripped tighter and tighter with every passing moment had barely touched the paper when she was awoken from the pulchritudinous day dream that was her past by a slam and a girlish giggle. She looked up to see a young brunette girl pressed up against the door of her cabin and two large hands on either side of her. Quinn sighed once more and closed her notebook. She wasn’t getting her paper done on this ride. She stood up and knocked on the glass. The woman jumped and turned around unlatching her lips from his.

“Excuse me, do you need something?” Quinn asked in an agitated tone. She didn’t intend to be a mood killer. She didn’t intend to be perceived as mean, she just didn’t want to be reminded anymore of what she couldn’t really have.

“No… N-no, ma’am sorry to bother you.” The girl stammered. Quinn hated being called “ma’am,” It made her feel old and she was just barely twenty.

“But do you need something miss?” The young man retorted. The young woman’s hand rose up from her side and connected with his arm playfully as she gave him a dirty look. He rolled his eyes, nodded his head, and turned around. Quinn liked “miss,” much better.

As the couple began to walk away with the man leading the girl spoke one last time “Sorry, again.”

Quinn looked down and inhaled deeply, holding it inside of her for as long as she could. She exhaled quickly looking up and back at her reflection in the window. She made an attempt at a smile. Same Quinn, nothing has changed, right? Only she felt empty like she has been for a long time; ever since he found out about her mistake. She wanted to be with him, but why would he want to be with her? He was perfect, she was unpredictable.

She carefully walked back to her bench, sat back down, and looked at her phone. She had plenty of time for a quick nap. She scrolled through the endless alarms she had set for various events throughout her life with that phone. Checking to make sure the one she had set earlier was still on, she noticed her note she had left herself. It was her favorite bible verse: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” It always helped her when she was plagued with her beautiful, yet painful day dreams of him. The note ended with an ambiguous “S.E.” and heart emoji.

“Love.” She whispered to herself. But what use was it when he didn’t love her back? She made a mistake, and nothing can change that.

Quinn fell back on the bench and leaned her head on the wall behind her, her curled blonde hair sprawled down the back of the bench. She closed her eyes gently and breathed in. “Love” she exhaled once more.

She had closed her eyes for what felt like only a few seconds when she heard a faint, deep, familiar voice. “Lor Menari,” it said. It was him.

“Sam?!” she called out as she opened her eyes quickly and glanced around her cabin only to find it just as empty as she had left it; the barking of her alarm the only sound in the room. “It means you have pretty eyes.” Quinn said to herself as she looked down at her pale yellow flats neatly placed on the ground. “It’s Na’vi.” She chuckled. “The avatar language?” She looked up at the ceiling tiles and smiled, wondering just how many tiles are in this cabin. “’Lor Menari’” she whispers with an unwavering smile.