I’d not paid her much attention when she’d transferred schools. Mostly because she screamed everything that I wasn’t. Confident. Popular. Stylish. People had thrown themselves at her on her first day. But somewhere between party invites and cheerleader try-outs, she had taken a chance on the golden retriever lacrosse player and his grumpy, misfit best friend. Now they were together, and she was blowing up my phone every other day, begging me to attend one of her sorority parties.
And as if right on cue.
Ezzy: Babe, I have a question. But you may only answer yes.
Quincey: Absolutely fucking not. I remember where that got me last time.
Ezzy: I don’t know what you are talking about.
Quincey: Did you and Isaac make it to Sandi’s?
Ezzy: Yes, it’s our first date in fucking ages. No surprise that he would choose to come here! Hoping to be in his bed, naked, in three quarters of an hour ;)
Quincey: Not a mental image I wanted or needed to see.
“Jesus!” I yelled as I put a finger to my ear to try and withstand the ringing of Hugh’s decade-old music player as ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’by The Beatles reverberated in the small shop. Hugh was swaying again as he organised several trinkets on the shelf.That man seriously needs to get himself a new hearing aid.But I couldn’t help but shake my head at the universe for how well-timed it was. Because it was the perfect song to describe Esme and Isaac’s relationship.
They were annoyingly sweet. They were the couple you knew would withstand the test of time. I didn’t look at them and see childhood sweethearts who hadn’t taken the time to discover themselves as individuals, when I looked at them, it was like realising love really did exist. Not in that finishing-each-other’s-sentences, matching-sweater wearing-way. Their love was like magic. It was devastating and beautiful and made them utterly insufferable. Whether they realised it or not, what they had was rare. It wasspecial.It was once in a lifetime.
I just adored them together, but what I didn’t like, what I vehemently despised in fact (in that I love my friends, but they are particularly annoying kind of way) was that they thought their love was attainable. Something anyone could have if they could just find the right person. Andmyperson, as I’d explained on a number of occasions, had likely been hit by a car, and I was more than happy to live out the rest of my adult life in myown company,the rare one-night stand as the sole exception.
I looked up from my phone to Hugh sifting through a large collection of original vinyl albums. I’d begged, and when I say begged, I meanbeggedfor access to those albums. But they were the one thing that Hugh was absolutely not willing to part with. And honestly? It was probably best that he turned me down, I couldn’t afford them but I would have tried anyway.
My phone buzzed in my hand, drawing my longing eyes away from a second edition Roy Orbison vinyl record.
Ezzy: Back to my question, you little plan avoider. Two words. My idea of a good time.
Quincey: No.
Quincey: If it’s your idea of a good time, it’ll be my idea of a nightmare. So no, definitely no.
Ezzy: Do you love me or do you love me?
Quincey: Is this a trick question?
Ezzy: Zeta Sigma Noctura are having a last minute Halloween party!
Quincey: And I hope you have a wonderful time.
I loved Esme, I really did. She was the pinnacle of a perfect human being. If she was sunshine, I was a fucking rain cloud, but all she saw was the fact that when the two of us were together, good things like rainbows happened. I don’t know what my soul did in a past life to deserve not one but two golden retriever friends. Maybe it was the universe’s way of trying to counterbalance with antisocial, cynical energy, or maybe the two of them just like to watch me suffer when outside my comfort zone (the paint-chipped walls of my microscopic apartment).
People were always lining up to hang out with Isaac and Esme, and they got invited to their fair share of parties and places. And despite everything, despite my protests and excuses, despite my general awkwardness, they always seemed to find time for me.
Or more aptly, they worked hard to drag me along to whatever party they were going to. Which was and always would be my idea of abadtime. It wasn’t that I thought I was better than parties. I could appreciate them, sure. But the more I thought about them, the more I found myself wading deeper into pretentious asshole territory. Honestly, I just didn’t like the idea of spending countless evenings with obnoxious frat boys and drunken girls that slurred their way through a conversation about god knows what.
Having anxiety meant that crowded environments were difficult for me. I liked to avoid painful or awkward interactions, so I didn’t need to berate myself about it the next day. But both Esme and Isaac always asked. They knew I’d say no. Theyheard my protests a million times before, but they always asked anyway, and that did something to my cold, guarded heart. Something that warmed my core and pulled at the corner of my lips.
Ezzy: Quincey Sterling, you are not, and I repeat NOT sitting holed up at home on Halloween. Come out with Isaac and I.
Quincey: But you know I’ll hate it.
Ezzy: Pleaaaase. When is the last time all three of us went out?
I cannot, for the life of me, remember.In the last few months, we had all gotten so unbelievably busy. Isaac had been made lacrosse captain, keeping him at training all week round, including hours when the sun hadn’t even risen.I wonder what that’s like.I wasn’t sure what kind of sick person could function before ten a.m., let alone try to gracefully snatch a tiny ball in an even tinier net at the end of a stick. And when Isaac wasn’t training, he was desperately trying to catch up on all the business classes he’d missed.
Esme was taking post-grad psychology, and like the superhuman she was, she seemed to be taking it all in stride. I probably could have seen her more, but the science block was at the other end of town, and we rarely got to see each other between lectures. For all the hours we had spent dreaming about study breaks and cups of coffee between morning classes and late lunches that turned into a bottle of wine and possibly a baked camembert, all we’d really gotten was daily FaceTimes and weekend sleepovers.
Not that I was complaining. I loved our sleepovers more than anything.
