Gray Hearts Episode Eleven: Wither

The smart thing to do would probably be to open every door, yell “You’re not real!”, slam the door, and repeat until I get to the end of the hallway. But my hand is stuck to the second door. 

Not literally, though I’m sure Autumn could do that for extra torture. But it doesn’t seem to want to turn the handle and see what is on the other side. I take a deep breath, and then another. And another. One of these will give me enough strength to go inside. Quinn is waiting for me, and I’m stuck here, terrified of a door of all things.

“Come on, Iris,” I mutter to myself, and it echoes through the hallway in a mocking whisper. “You can handle anything.”

I turn the doorknob and step inside, my motion quick as a bandaid being ripped off sensitive skin. 

It’s my apartment. Not the one with Quinn and pride flags. Not even the one I left before Quinn and I went to the antique store (how long ago was that?). Quinn’s backpack is gone. The couch has no wrinkled blanket or lumpy pillow with shreds of copper hair piled on top. 

I take a step inside. Maybe this is just before Quinn came to stay with me, I think, even as I notice a tickle down my spine. 

Something is missing.

I check the books on the shelf, the clothes on the floor. Everything is how I remember. I turn towards the TV and pause.

There was a collage of Quinn and me, from childhood to graduation, that was near the TV. But it’s gone, a layer of dust suggesting it had been gone for a while. 

My phone is on the table, and I pick it up, weighing it in my hand as if to check that it’s real. I could just call Quinn, and maybe this would all be over.

I unlock the phone and scroll through my contacts.

Empty.

My phone gallery.

Gone. 

I don’t even have social media apps on my phone. 

I throw my phone on the couch and rush to the door. Of course it’s locked. I pound on it.

“Okay, I get it!” I yell, as if there’s someone listening on the other side. “I had Quinn in the last room, and now I have no one! So scary! You got me, okay?”

There’s no answer, so I punch the door once more for good measure. All that does is send a throbbing pain where my hand made contact. 

I flop on the couch with a huff. Autumn will get bored of this torture if she just sees me vegging on the couch. She must not realize I already used to spend most of my life just zoning out. 

I stare at the wall, thinking how this is better than having to deal with psychological torture from Prin and Yeo-reum. At least here I don’t have to interact with anyone. I don’t have to lose my memories or deal with fake versions of Quinn.

Here I have no Quinn.

The thought hits me like a hammer to the head. I don’t have Quinn. I don’t have… anyone. 

Is this what my life is like without her, I wonder, biting on my lower lip. Just staying at home, no one on my contacts list, no pictures, no one to connect with even online?

I feel the loneliness wrap its arms around me, floating in like an icy blanket that covers me and sends shivers down to my toes. 

“At least send me Quinn,” I say to the empty room. “I know she isn’t real, but…” I trail off. 

“This room sucks!” I call out. “What, is this where Quinn is traveling the world, and I’m alone and sad?” I huff. “I would have still stayed in touch with her, you know. I wouldn’t have erased all the pictures.”

Unless something else had happened. 

Did we have a fight? 

Did she stop talking to me after I told her I was ace?

Or did we just drift apart, the way we were already doing before she showed up on my doorstep? Was this what it would’ve looked like if her family hadn’t kicked her out?

It’s not like I had reached out and tried to talk to her. I was still wallowing in self-pity that she was getting ready for an adventure without me. An adventure I had no desire to go on, but I had felt left out of anyway. 

“You’re a bit late on this,” I continue to the empty room. “I already realized I need to be more supportive of her. You can thank your sister Prin for that one.”

I swear the temperature drops for a second. 

“Not a lot of love lost there?” I guess. “Your sisters don’t seem to get along well. It’s funny— you try to show how unhealthy my relationship was when you four seem to be the poster-family for dysfunction.”

I stretch out on the couch, making myself seem more comfortable. Internally, I’m waiting for Autumn to appear and smite me. 

“I already know that this isn’t real,” I say, adjusting to the weird lump in my seat. “I’m going to talk to Quinn and have a heart-to-heart. We aren’t going to fall out of touch because she wants to travel.”

Whatever it is that’s under me is sharp and pointy. I shift and reach for it, pulling out a crumpled paper. No wonder it hurt, it’s the fancy paper used for invitations. I unravel it slowly. 

There’s a picture of Quinn smiling uncomfortably in a pale blue dress and perfectly straightened hair. It’s her graduation picture. Above it are the words In Loving Memory.

I drop the paper and jump from the couch like it caught on fire. The paper, or obituary, opens, but I close my eyes. I don’t want to see what’s inside. I can’t see that. 

“No,” I whisper, my voice growing as I back away. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

I can almost see Quinn on my couch, wearing the same clothes for a week straight. The look of defeat in her eyes as I drag her towards a stack of empty job applications. The hurt in her eyes whenever they rested on the backpack she had bought but never used. I know these memories, and I can’t even pretend they were a mirage, because I was there. It was before we even stepped foot in the antique shop. I saw the signs and ignored them. 

I feel a tear slip down my cheeks, remembering the old woman’s words.

Winter tends to take… the hopeless ones. The ones who are already giving up on this world.

“No,” I whisper again, pounding on the door. “This one isn’t real! Quinn would never!” 

The sound of my knocks echoes in the silence. I tilt forward, resting my forehead on the door and taking a deep breath. 

“I won’t let her give up on the world,” I murmur. “I wasn’t there for her the way I should have been. She was already hurting, and I didn’t see that. I… I know she couldn’t see me for what I am, and I couldn’t see her reaching out for help. But we’re different now.”

She was wrapped up in herself and her own identity, and I kept mine from her. But she was lost and floundering, and I didn’t see past my own pain to notice hers. Maybe we’re both at fault. Maybe one of us is worse than the other, or maybe we tie in the “bad friends” category. 

But maybe this is just the push we need to grow. We’re only eighteen, not even a year into the real world. We aren’t perfect, and we have so much that needs changing. 

“We will change,” I continue aloud. “We can change. I love Quinn, and I know she loves me. Rough patches happen, and life sucks. But we’re in this together.” I open my eyes and look at the door. “I’m not leaving her, and I won’t let her leave me.”

Even if I need to frog-march her into therapy and write her sappy post-its to remind her how the world needs her. Even if it means us both taking a long, uncomfortable look in the mirror and erasing the toxicity one at a time. 

I hear a lock click, and the door creaks open. I bolt outside and find myself, not in the hallway, but in a small sitting room. There’s a crackling fire and a tea set with a three-tiered stand of cakes and sandwiches. A woman is in one oversized chair, her orange and green dress illuminated by the soft glow in the fireplace. Her dark eyes peer out from her black, wispy bangs as she studies me. 

“Would you like some tea?” she asks, motioning to the chair across from her.