were dark, with flat slashes of eyebrows pointing to a long straight nose and a wide mouth that looked like it could smile as broad as the world. She looked just like Sydney. Like Sydney would have—if she were still alive. His throat tightened so hard it might strangle him.
He looked down at the shotgun, lying in the rotting leaves. It made him weak to think of it.
The girl stood up, eyeing him warily. Now, as he saw her expression and the blue eyes, she didn’t look like Sydney, except insofar as all young people evoked all young people, for those who loved specifically.
At a movement from the road, Quinn looked up. “Your boyfriend’s a coward,” he said. “Why isn’t he down here helping you?”
She shrugged. “Sorry we bothered you. We just wanted to see . . .” She paused, and now tears did come. “See you for real.”
“Okay,” he said, surprising himself. “Here I am.” He watched her watch him, imagined what she would be seeing. A guy with rumpled clothes, no space hero.
Maybe she did look like Sydney. That dark hair . . . But the terrible truth was, he was having trouble remembering what Sydney looked like, except for her pictures.
“So you wanted to see me for real,” Quinn said.
The girl lay inert on the ground, eyes big.
“Thing is? I’m not real. In a sense, I’m not really here at all.” She was watching him with more intensity now that she had concluded he wasn’t going to shoot her. “I haven’t been here since I got here. Since I got back from that place. And no, I don’t know where it was. I’m not holding back secrets. There are no secrets, no conspiracies. I don’t remember anything. Sorry to disappoint you. I know you want to believe things.” He held up a hand. “Never mind what it is you want to believe; that’s your business. But don’t pin it on me. I’m not really here. Anymore.”
She hadn’t moved from the hillside, nor did she now.
But she was listening.
“Do you understand?” he asked her, knowing she couldn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about, but needing, suddenly and with a strange intensity, for her to understand.
And then she gave him the gift. She said, “Yes. Yes, I do. I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Quinn.”
He nodded at her, unable to speak. But her words unlocked him. Yes, I understand. The young girl gazed at him with the look of wisdom and blankness that children sometimes had. She knew she was talking to a ghost, a man who had slipped away from himself. Who had almost killed a child.
The girl rose to her feet and, with the swift recovery of the young, scrambled up the embankment.
When the car squealed off down the road, he shouted after her, “And lose that miserable boyfriend of yours, will you? Where was he when you needed him?”
He picked up the gun and trudged back to the house, dousing the tree lights as he went by, feeling dazed by what he’d almost done.
Caitlin, he thought. What’s happening to me?
In his bedroom, he felt under his bed for the duffel bag, hauling it out, still packed from the last trip he’d made.
He didn’t want Rob’s noisy household right now.
But, he was very sure, he needed it.
Past 1:00 AM, Quinn’s car sped along the rutted dirt road, murky with coastal fog. Pebbles and rocks kicked up, denting the paint job. But by the time he reached the first Mesh, the dents would be pearling back smooth. He drove fast, eager to be out of the woods, to separate himself from some darkness he could hardly identify. He swung into a curve, accelerating out of it, driving hard before he changed his mind. He conjured up the expression on Emily and Mateo’s faces when he showed up for Christmas after all. Maybe even Rob would smile, that brother of his who thought Quinn had squandered his future. Even before the star ship disaster.
Quinn and Rob had both tested at the same time, even though, at eight years old, Quinn was taking the test early. They walked into the test as two bright, active
He looked down at the shotgun, lying in the rotting leaves. It made him weak to think of it.
The girl stood up, eyeing him warily. Now, as he saw her expression and the blue eyes, she didn’t look like Sydney, except insofar as all young people evoked all young people, for those who loved specifically.
At a movement from the road, Quinn looked up. “Your boyfriend’s a coward,” he said. “Why isn’t he down here helping you?”
She shrugged. “Sorry we bothered you. We just wanted to see . . .” She paused, and now tears did come. “See you for real.”
“Okay,” he said, surprising himself. “Here I am.” He watched her watch him, imagined what she would be seeing. A guy with rumpled clothes, no space hero.
Maybe she did look like Sydney. That dark hair . . . But the terrible truth was, he was having trouble remembering what Sydney looked like, except for her pictures.
“So you wanted to see me for real,” Quinn said.
The girl lay inert on the ground, eyes big.
“Thing is? I’m not real. In a sense, I’m not really here at all.” She was watching him with more intensity now that she had concluded he wasn’t going to shoot her. “I haven’t been here since I got here. Since I got back from that place. And no, I don’t know where it was. I’m not holding back secrets. There are no secrets, no conspiracies. I don’t remember anything. Sorry to disappoint you. I know you want to believe things.” He held up a hand. “Never mind what it is you want to believe; that’s your business. But don’t pin it on me. I’m not really here. Anymore.”
She hadn’t moved from the hillside, nor did she now.
But she was listening.
“Do you understand?” he asked her, knowing she couldn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about, but needing, suddenly and with a strange intensity, for her to understand.
And then she gave him the gift. She said, “Yes. Yes, I do. I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Quinn.”
He nodded at her, unable to speak. But her words unlocked him. Yes, I understand. The young girl gazed at him with the look of wisdom and blankness that children sometimes had. She knew she was talking to a ghost, a man who had slipped away from himself. Who had almost killed a child.
The girl rose to her feet and, with the swift recovery of the young, scrambled up the embankment.
When the car squealed off down the road, he shouted after her, “And lose that miserable boyfriend of yours, will you? Where was he when you needed him?”
He picked up the gun and trudged back to the house, dousing the tree lights as he went by, feeling dazed by what he’d almost done.
Caitlin, he thought. What’s happening to me?
In his bedroom, he felt under his bed for the duffel bag, hauling it out, still packed from the last trip he’d made.
He didn’t want Rob’s noisy household right now.
But, he was very sure, he needed it.
Past 1:00 AM, Quinn’s car sped along the rutted dirt road, murky with coastal fog. Pebbles and rocks kicked up, denting the paint job. But by the time he reached the first Mesh, the dents would be pearling back smooth. He drove fast, eager to be out of the woods, to separate himself from some darkness he could hardly identify. He swung into a curve, accelerating out of it, driving hard before he changed his mind. He conjured up the expression on Emily and Mateo’s faces when he showed up for Christmas after all. Maybe even Rob would smile, that brother of his who thought Quinn had squandered his future. Even before the star ship disaster.
Quinn and Rob had both tested at the same time, even though, at eight years old, Quinn was taking the test early. They walked into the test as two bright, active
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