Crazy for You

  “Bill is another thirty years of stripped pine furniture, high school athletics, and ESPN,” Quinn said, and Meggy glanced at the archway. The room glowed with the dim blue light from the TV and they could hear the faint cheers of some crowd enthused over some play.

  “We got any Cheetos?” Joe called, and Quinn went to get them without saying anything else, feeling guilty about the damage she’d already inflicted on her mother. Her mother liked her boring life. Passion would probably have made her worry.

  “I’m sorry, Mama,” she said on her trip back from the living room. “I shouldn’t have said that stuff. You live the way you want. What do I know about you?”

  “Nothing,” Meggy said shortly, but when Bill came to the front door while Quinn was hauling her clothes upstairs, Meggy opened the door, said, “She’s staying here for a while, Bill, go home,” and slammed it in his face.

  “Way to go, Ma,” Quinn said from the staircase.

  “Was that Bill?” Joe said.

  “Just watch the TV,” Meggy said. “God knows if you paid attention to anything else, you might miss something important.”

  “What did I do?” Joe asked, but Meggy ignored him and went upstairs.

  When Meggy was gone, Quinn went into the kitchen and punched “speed dial” and “one” and waited for Zoë to answer.

  Quinn was “two” on the speed dial.

  Zoë’s husband answered instead. “Hello,” Ben said, and Quinn pictured him leaning against their refrigerator, tall and unflappable, the only man who’d ever loved Zoë and not been driven crazy by her.

  “This is your sister-in-law,” she said. “How are the kids?”

  “Hey, Q,” Ben said. “They’re fine. Harry got an A on his reading test and Jeannie got head lice at nursery school. What’s new with you?”

  “I left Bill,” Quinn said.

  “Oh. Well, you probably want to talk to Zoë then.” He put his hand over the receiver and yelled, “Zo, it’s Quinn.”

  “I guess this means you don’t want to discuss my personal life, right?” Quinn said.

  “Hell, no,” Ben said. “Although I never did think he was good enough for you.”

  “Well, thank you,” Quinn said. “And you couldn’t have mentioned this to me two years ago?”

  “Hell, no,” Ben said. “Zo’s coming. Hang on.”

  “What’s up?” Zoë said, and Quinn said, “I left Bill.” It was almost becoming a mantra; every time she said it, she got more cheerful. “I moved out. I’m at Mom and Dad’s.”

  “You’re kidding,” Zoë said. “So you’re going to live with them now?”

  “Just for a little while.” Quinn boosted herself up on the counter and began to swing her feet and bump the metal cabinet. Lovely déjà vu, talking to Zoë again and kicking cabinets. “I just got here. Nick helped me move some of my stuff, and he’s going back for the rest on Monday, and by then maybe I’ll know where I’m going.” She waited for Zoë to say something about Nick, ask about him, anything.

  “So what happened with you and Bill?”

  “He stole my dog,” Quinn said.

  “What dog?” Zoë said, and Quinn told her the whole story.

  “I’ll be damned,” Zoë said when she was through.

  “So what do you think?” Quinn hunched a little on the cabinets. “Mom says it’s a mistake.”

  “Yeah, and look at Mom’s life.” Zoë’s scorn came cleanly over the line. “You got to do what you got to do, kid.”

  “Mom says I’m nuts to do this over a dog.”

  “It’s not about the dog,” Zoë said and then muffled she said, “Later, do you mind? I’m still getting this myself.” She turned back to the receiver, her voice clear again and said, “Ben thinks Tibbett is like a soap opera. He keeps expecting to hear that somebody’s married her cousin and had her uncle’s baby. He wants dirt.”

  I just got turned on staring at your ex-husband, Quinn thought, but she said, “Barbara Niedemeyer dumped Matthew Ferguson.” She opened the cabinet beside her and went rooting one-handed for graham crackers.

  “Oh, big deal,” Zoë said. “She’s boring, she keeps doing the same thing over and over. Give me something good.”

  “Nick and Lisa broke up,” Quinn said, pushing her luck as she fished a cracker out of the box.

  “Who’s Lisa?”

  “You know, Lisa Webster.”

  “I used to baby-sit a Lisa Webster,” Zoë said.

  “That’s the one.”

  “He was dating somebody I used to baby-sit?”

  “She’s twenty-two,” Quinn said around a mouthful of graham cracker, trying to be fair.

  “And he’s twelve,” Zoë said. “I swear, that man is never going to grow up.”

  “He’s pretty dependable,” Quinn said. “He and Max are doing great with the service station.”

  “I mean socially,” Zoë said. “He still acts like he’s in high school. But he’s not my problem anymore, thank God.”

  “He’s good to me.”

  “He always was,” Zoë said. “I think you’re the only thing he kept out of our marriage. He always said you were the best thing about it.”

  Quinn swallowed. “He did?”

  “Yeah. He said he’d always wanted a little sister and then he got the perfect one in you. He thought you could do no wrong. Like everybody else thought.”

  “And he thought you were exciting,” Quinn said. “Like everybody else thought.”

  “You don’t sound so good,” Zoë said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m just tired of being the practical one,” Quinn said. “I don’t want to be dependable anymore. I want exciting.”

  “Good call dumping Bill, then,” Zoë said. “He always bored me to tears. Now go do something that’ll shock everybody and be free for a change. You were the only one who thought you had to be good.”

  “Mom thinks so, too,” Quinn said. “She always said I was the calm one like her, remember?”

  “She’s not calm, she’s catatonic.” Zoë’s voice faded again. “In a minute,” she said to Ben and then came back to Quinn. “I have to go, he’s driving me crazy. Listen, I love you, Q. Don’t let the ’rents make you nuts. If you need to get away, come stay with us for awhile.”

  “I love you, too, Zo. Sorry about the head lice.”

  “I’ll take them over living with Mom and Dad any day,” Zoë said. “Find a place fast.”

  When they’d hung up, Quinn sat on the counter and nibbled on a cracker, staring into space, trying to get her mind around the new wrinkles in her already corrugated life. She didn’t feel guilty about Bill, she really didn’t; well, she felt a little guilty, but not enough to move back, she was never going to go back. No, she’d find an apartment tomorrow, a place of her own—her pulse kicked up at the thought—and then she and Katie could move in. She looked down to see Katie waiting anxiously at her feet and fed her a graham cracker, watching as Katie took it delicately, no grabbing—and she could get some furniture of her own, and maybe Nick could move it for her—

  Do something that’ll shock everybody, Zoë said.

  Dating her sister’s ex-husband would do the trick. She shivered a little at the thought. Nick was the only exciting thing in her entire life; how could she have missed him up till now? He’d always been the wild Ziegler brother, but she’d never quite understood that part because she always felt so safe with him. Until he looked at her like that. Until she’d looked back and really seen him, dark and dangerous and full of infinitely impractical possibilities. Really, he was the perfect guy for her right now: a bad guy who would never hurt her. Excitement without risk. The more she thought about it, the better he sounded and the warmer she felt.

  Now all she had to do was get him to stop screaming and running whenever he looked at her, and she’d be exciting, too.

  Just like Zoë.

  Bill stood in the backyard of the McKenzies’ little white frame house, cursing Quinn’s mother for the nutcase she was
. She probably hadn’t even told Quinn he was there or Quinn would have come down and talked to him and come home with him. He stared up at the square of yellow light from Quinn’s bedroom. He could see the wall and ceiling light clearly. The curtains weren’t shut. That was dangerous, didn’t she know that was dangerous? Men would try to look in. He’d had to think for a minute, trying to remember the layout of the upstairs, but he was sure that was Quinn’s window, naked and vulnerable, and anyone could see in, and that was really dangerous.

  Then she was there, standing by the window, her body round in her pink sweater, sharp against the yellow light in the room. She stretched to grab the top of the curtain—he could see the outward curve of her breast and the inward curve of her waist and the outward curve of her hip—and Bill felt his heart contract, felt the loss of her in every bone and muscle, and then refused the thought, she wasn’t lost, they’d talk, it would be fine, they’d be together forever, have the sons and the dinners and the life he’d planned; she wasn’t gone.

  She began to pull the curtain closed, and then the curtain was across the window, and he was alone.

  He stood watching for another half hour or so, not noticing the cold, and then the light went off behind the curtain and made the window blank, and he knew she’d gone to bed or downstairs, and wherever she was, there was nothing there for him anymore. He got in his car and drove home, knowing she’d come back to him tomorrow.

  “So you’re just moving out,” Darla said for about the fortieth time the next afternoon after school, and Quinn held on to her patience. There was something wrong with Darla, and the move was making whatever it was worse, so snapping at her wasn’t an option, especially since Darla had spent the last half hour helping pack Quinn’s books into boxes.

  Quinn shoved the last of those boxes toward the door of the apartment, making Katie skip back a step to avoid getting squashed. “Yep, it’s over. As soon as Nick picks these up on Monday, I’m out completely.” She glanced at the clock. “Let’s get going. Bill’s only got another fifteen minutes of weightlifting.” She shrugged on her coat and picked up Katie, who looked over her shoulder, as suspicious of the world as ever.

  “Okay, I know I’m being thick,” Darla said when they were in her car, waiting for the heater to thaw their blood, “but could you please explain how you can just move out on a guy you’ve been with for two years?”

  “I wasn’t with him.” Quinn held on to Katie as the dog put her paws on the window and anxiously surveyed the sidewalk for enemies. “I was just sort of next to him. He asked me to go to the third baseball championship party, and he was sweet and we started dating, and then he started leaving things at my apartment a little at a time until he was all moved in, and then he found this apartment and moved us here, and I never really said yes to any of it. He’s just patient and he never quits and eventually, there he is, right where he wants to be. And I don’t want to be there. I didn’t realize it until he took Katie to the pound, but I don’t want to be where he is.” She shivered a little, and Katie transferred her attention, evidently sensing that the trouble was inside the car, not outside. “He came to the art room today, acting like nothing was wrong, like I was just visiting my mom and dad, like he assumed I’d be back any time. He’s sort of giving me the creeps.” Quinn patted Katie for comfort, and the dog curled up her lap, keeping nervous eyes on her. “Could we please go somewhere else? I’m supposed to go to the real estate office to pick up a list of apartments from Mom. Let’s go there.”

  Darla put the car in gear. “Well, once Nick gets the books, you’ll be out of there, and even Bill will have to see you’re not coming back. How’d you talk Nick into getting involved, anyway? I’d have thought he’d have headed for the hills to avoid being in the middle of this.”

  Quinn thought of Nick the night before, solid and warm next to her in the truck, solid and hot on the couch. “He’s a good guy,” she said, trying to make it sound offhand.

  Darla slowed to make the turn onto Main Street. “Am I missing something?”

  “I think Nick almost kissed me last night,” Quinn blurted, and then felt stupid and relieved at the same time.

  Darla pulled over and parked the car.

  “The real estate office is another two blocks,” Quinn said.

  “Yes, but the interesting stuff is happening here.” Darla looked more appalled than interested. “He kissed you?”

  “I said almost.” Quinn squirmed a little in the seat, to Katie’s dismay. “We were on the couch talking and he stopped and we looked at each other for a long time, you know?”

  “I think so,” Darla said. “One of those long looks that starts out a regular Hello and then turns into Hello?”

  Quinn nodded, patting the dog quiet. “But then he stood up and said, ‘You aren’t like this,’ and left.”

  Darla slumped in her seat. “Oh, boy. I don’t know. You and Nick?”

  “There is no me and Nick.” But there could be. “There was a nice little zing for that nanosecond between the time when I realized he was looking at me like he wanted me and the time when he got up and ran. But he got up and ran just the same.”

  Darla stared out the windshield. “Zing, huh?”

  Quinn nodded. “There was more zing in him not kissing me than there was in the two years Bill was kissing me. Definite zing.”

  “The zing doesn’t last,” Darla said, and Quinn jerked around at the flatness in her voice. “Well, it doesn’t. So if you’re leaving Bill because of no zing—” She shook her head. “A good guy, one who’s faithful and who loves you? That beats zing.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Quinn eyed Darla cautiously. Darla would talk about her problem only when she was good and ready. Was she good and ready?

  “You can’t keep excitement forever,” Darla said. “It goes. And then you have to settle for what you’ve got, and if you’ve got a really good guy, that’s enough, that’s more than enough, that’s fine. Maybe Bill didn’t understand about the dog. Maybe if you gave him another chance. He could give you a safe life, a—”

  “I don’t want that,” Quinn said. “I’ve had a safe life for thirty-five years and I’m tired of it. I want to wake up every morning knowing that something good is coming, that there’s a reason to get out of bed. The same damn thing over and over is not a reason.”

  Darla’s eyes narrowed and her jaw grew tighter. “So you change it a little. You do something small, not this huge.”

  “I did,” Quinn said. “I adopted Katie.” Katie looked up at her, and she stroked her head to quiet her. “It was such a little thing, but now it’s big because Bill couldn’t see me any way but the way he wanted me. At least Nick sees me.” She thought back to the couch the night before and felt warm again. “Last night he really saw me.”

  “He’ll dump you in a year,” Darla said, her voice flat again. “Or he’ll drive you so crazy that you’ll dump him, only this time you’ll lose him as your friend, and he’s the best one you’ve got next to me. If you stay with Bill, you can have them both, but if you do anything about this, you’re going to lose Nick, too. You really want that?”

  “I want that feeling again,” Quinn said, stubbornly. “I’m pretty sure Nick doesn’t, but I do. What’s going to happen next year, that’s next year. This is now, and I’m not settling anymore.”

  Darla shook her head, looking close to tears. “Quinn—”

  “Are things that bad with Max?” Quinn said and regretted it when she saw Darla’s face twist. “Okay, I’m sorry. We’ll talk about it later—”

  “I love Max,” Darla said.

  “I know you do,” Quinn said.

  “I’ve got it all under control,” Darla said. “I’m happy.”

  “Absolutely,” Quinn said, nodding.

  “I love my life,” Darla said. “My kids are great, my house is beautiful, I enjoy my job, my husband is hard-working and faithful.”

  “These are good things,” Quinn said.

  “I’m so bored
I could scream,” Darla said.

  “Right,” Quinn said, relieved it was out. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Nothing.” Darla turned to look at her, accusation in her eyes. “I’m not messing up a great relationship just because I’m bored.”

  “I didn’t have a great relationship,” Quinn said. “Bill isn’t Max.”

  “He sounds like Max,” Darla said glumly. “Oh, hell, forget it, let’s go get you an apartment.”

  “Maybe you just need a little change,” Quinn said. “Nothing big, just a one-degree change to shift things a little, to make things new again.” She looked down at Katie on her lap. “Never mind, forget I said that.”

  “A little change,” Darla said.

  “Little changes have a way of multiplying,” Quinn said. “Maybe—”

  “No, I like it.” Darla gripped the steering wheel tighter. “A little change. Just something to make him look at me, like you said.” She turned to meet Quinn’s eyes. “I don’t think he’s looked at me in years. I’m just there, you know? And I haven’t looked at him, either, not really. And then at the station the other night, I wanted to make love in the office—”

  “All those windows?” Quinn felt scandalized and intrigued. Making love in front of a window sounded like something Nick would do.

  “—and he wouldn’t even consider it. He didn’t even say, ‘Let’s try the bathroom instead,’ he said, ‘After the kids are in bed.’ How bad is that?”

  Quinn said, “Well—”

  “He couldn’t keep his hands off me once and now he wants to wait?” Darla’s voice rose as her face crumpled. “He doesn’t even see me anymore.”

  “Okay, okay.” Quinn leaned over and patted Darla’s arm. “Okay, we can fix this. We just have to get his attention. I mean, you just have to get his attention.”

  “How?” Darla practically snarled the word. “I almost raped him in the office, and he said no. What more—”

  “Maybe you were too subtle.” Quinn thought fast. “You have to shock him. Like meeting him at the door wrapped in Saran Wrap or something.” She felt a stab of envy for Darla, who was in a relationship with a guy who could appreciate Saran Wrap. Bill would have passed out from the vulgarity of it, and Nick would have taken the Saran Wrap and used it on some other woman.