I held out my hand to shake Mr. Thomas's in farewell. He ignored it and walked away.
"Are you really going?" Quinn asked. "At least grab a sandwich or something first."
I should have left, but I followed her to the kitchen. The quiet caterers moved easily around Quinn. Their manager came right over. "You want a plate, Ms. Thomas?"
"Yes, please. Two. Whatever you've got," she said. She was anxious to retreat again. Her eyes kept scanning the doorways.
"We're so sorry for your loss, Ms. Thomas," the manager said. "It sounds like your sister was an amazing person and you were following in her footsteps. Your parents are lucky to have you."
Quinn gave me a painful look. She had been surviving comparisons to Sienna all her life, but today everything was compounded. "Let's hope I don't go too far," Quinn said.
The nearest server fumbled a handful of silverware.
"How about a little something from the bar, as well?" I said. I took Quinn's arm and steered her back towards the basement.
"Quinn, what on earth are you doing with him?" Mrs. Thomas hissed from the doorway.
"You mean Owen?" Quinn spun to face her mother, the color bright on her cheeks. "Trying to get through this awful day, same as you."
"Well, he can't be helping," her mother said.
"How can you say that? Don't you remember how many times Owen came to Thanksgiving? Nine. He made the stuffing and the gravy at four," Quinn said. "And remember who did all the touch-ups when you fired the painters? These walls would be splotchy if he had not taken a whole day to fix them for you."
"It's okay, Quinn. I should go," I said.
"No. How can they forget that you're my friend?" she asked. "You didn't like him dating Sienna, but you had no problem with him driving me to Los Angeles. It wasn't an issue when you scheduled a cruise during Sienna's cheerleading camp week and Owen had to stay here so I wouldn't be alone."
"Really, Quinn, you are just being silly. I'm sure it’s the stress of all this, but you should stop before you make a fool of yourself," Mrs. Thomas said.
"A fool of myself?" Quinn asked. "I'm not hunting around for someone to blame."
Mrs. Thomas gripped her narrow waist until her knuckles turned white. "He certainly did not help Sienna, did he? You don't think she realized how close you two were? You don't think we all knew about your 'friendship’?"
"Sienna was happy I was spending time with Quinn," I said. "She knew knew we like the same things."
"Childish things, little kid games," Mrs. Thomas spat. "Well, at least you realized Sienna was too good for you. I was glad when you two started drifting apart."
"You wanted him out of Sienna's life, but you expected him to be there and prevent all of this?" Quinn asked. She threw her hands up in disgust. "You don't even know what you're saying."
"No one does today. It's alright, Quinn. I'm going to leave," I said.
"I'll walk you to your car," she said.
Mrs. Thomas opened her mouth to protest, but Quinn brushed past her. I had no choice but to follow her out the front door. She moved fast, her long legs flying down the front steps. Her black high heels clicked quickly along the sidewalk and I had to hurry to catch up.
"Quinn? Are you alright?" I asked.
"No. Yes. I have no idea," she said, finally slowing down.
"They feel the same way," I said. "You can't listen to anything they say."
"Except they're right," Quinn said. "You were Sienna's boyfriend, not my buddy. I shouldn't have pestered you. I should have stuck by my mother and kept her calm."
"You're allowed to grieve, too. You're allowed to need someone in your corner." I caught her arm. "I'm on your side, Quinn. I've always been on your side."
"Sienna didn't mind us being friends, did she?" Quinn asked, tears in her eyes.
"She encouraged it. Sienna was the one that pointed out how much we have in common. She made us friends," I said. I bit my lip to stop from saying more.
Quinn threw her arms around my neck and hugged me hard. I steadied myself, then wrapped my arms around her. I could not think about how her every curve fit alongside my body. We came together too easily to ignore, but Quinn needed comfort, not complications.
I would not tell her how many times Sienna confronted me about my feelings for her little sister. Quinn did not need to know how often Sienna complained that her little sister had a crush on me. No one needed to know how that always thrilled me. I kept up with Sienna as long as I could. Now that she was gone, my connection to Quinn was even stronger. We needed each other.
"It's going to get better," I said.
"I know, I know," Quinn's voice was muffled against my neck. "Just promise me we won't drift apart." She pulled back and looked into my eyes. "I didn't know you and Sienna were drifting apart."
"For a long time, but that doesn't matter now," I said. I set Quinn carefully back on her high heels. "I'm here if you need me."
She looked at my car and shook her head. "Sienna hated this car."
"Get in if you want. I can drive you to the cemetery or you can hang out at my place if you want," I said.
Quinn brushed her chestnut hair back and smoothed it down. "No. I have to ride with my parents. It wouldn't look right if I wasn't with them."
I wanted to ask her what it mattered how things looked. I wanted to tell her that grief was messy. It was too late. I watched as Quinn straightened her shoulders and marched back to be the dutiful daughter.
CHAPTER THREE
Quinn
The house was spotless when we returned from the cemetery. Even the funeral flowers had been removed. White roses replaced the normal vases of cut flowers my mother ordered, but that was the only change. It was as if nothing had happened.
I went to change clothes and then came back down to join my parents. They seemed confused.
"Oh, Quinn, you startled me," my mother said. She and my father sat in their normal spots in the living room. My father was reading and my mother was watching a raucous reality television show.
He put his book down, and my mother paused the television. The same heavy expression they had worn all day returned. If I had not reappeared, they could have convinced themselves both daughters were at UCLA and all was as it should be. I was an unwelcome reminder that Sienna was gone.
"I was just coming to say goodnight," I said.
"It’s only 8 pm," my father said.
"I'm just really tired," I rubbed my forehead.
"Sienna says studying before bed is a good idea because your mind works on what you learned all night," my mother told me.
"Yes, good idea," I said. I did not tell them I had left all my study material at school.
Upstairs again, the weight overtook me. I sank to the floor next to my bed. Sienna was gone and I could just as easily disappear. In fact, I slipped out of my parents' lives just by leaving the room. I could just leave and they would never even notice. Where would I go and what would I do?