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Nova

When I saw Quinton, I saw the face of the little boy I once loved, even with the gray stubbles on his chin.

I took in every part of him and desperately wanted to know what those parts experienced over the years.

What wisdom caused the curly gray hairs to outnumber the black ones?

What had those light-brown eyes seen? What burdens did those broad shoulders bear? What was life like without me?

Then I thought of the last time I’d seen him and how I wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Every day after that, I longed to find my way back to him.

Quinton was my high school sweetheart, but I’d liked him ever since he walked into our third-grade classroom and Mrs. Smith introduced him as the new student from Texas.

She said that he was living with his grandparents, Coach and Mrs. Boudreaux.

Everyone knew Quinton’s grandparents, especially Coach Boudreaux, who coached football and basketball at Bayou Middle School.

His grandmother, Mrs. Boudreaux, taught English at the same school.

Most of the students in our class didn’t talk to Quinton.

His face held a permanent mean mug that showed he didn’t want to be bothered.

Unlike all the other students, I saw Quinton as a challenge.

I was determined to make him smile. I did eventually, but it took almost the whole school year before it happened.

Once I broke through his tough-boy exterior, I thought he’d want to be friends, but unlike Lance, my best friend back then, Quinton wasn’t interested in being friends with a girl.

My body froze at the thought of Lance, the person at the center of the argument Quinton and I had that night. The argument that sent me running away from Quinton and led me right to Adam.

“I’m so sorry, Nova.” His eyes begged for forgiveness.

I blinked a few times, wondering if I’d spoken my thoughts out loud or if, like so many times in the past, Quinton somehow knew what I was thinking.

“Sorry?” I asked, lowering myself onto the bed.

Quinton pulled the chair closer to me before sitting. “Yes, for everything. For not listening to you that night. For accusing you when I knew I had no right to. For not being the husband that I should’ve been to you. For all of it.”

Quinton’s apology reopened old wounds while also giving me the relief I longed to feel.

So many times, I wondered if Quinton hated me.

If he thought I’d left him and Skye on purpose.

I wondered if he blamed me for ruining the life we were supposed to have together for as long as we lived, like we vowed to do.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I told him.

“Yes, it was. I shouldn’t have let you leave. I shouldn’t have said the things I said. I’ll never forgive myself for not protecting you.”

That night, after the banquet, Quinton and I were in a much better place than when we arrived that weekend.

I felt like we were finally getting back on track, which was why I told him that I’d spoken with Lance.

I didn’t want any secrets between us, plus I was afraid that he’d find out from someone else.

The people in Bayou were known to talk too much about everyone else’s business.

Quinton blamed Lance for causing his knee injury that ended his chances of getting a scholarship to college and his ultimate dream of playing in the NFL, which Lance went on to do.

Things got so bad that while we were in college, right before I found out I was pregnant with Skye, Quinton told me how much it bothered him that Lance and I were still friends.

The last thing I wanted to do was end my friendship with Lance, but I also couldn’t risk losing Quinton.

I had to make a choice, and once I found out I was pregnant, the choice was made for me. I chose Quinton.

That wasn’t the only reason I chose him, though.

The other reason was his relationship with his mom, Renee.

Quinton shared with me that he moved to Bayou because Renee’s boyfriend didn’t want any kids.

So, Renee sent Quinton away. The one person he needed to choose him didn’t. I couldn’t do the same.

“I hope one day you can forgive me,” Quinton continued.

“I’m the one who ran away. You used to say I never wanted to listen, and you were right. Adam wouldn’t have had a chance to drug my drink or get me away from the hotel had I stayed and dealt with our problems instead of leaving.”

Adam never admitted that he slipped something in my drink, but it wasn’t hard for me to figure out. When I woke up at his house, I felt loopy and disoriented, like I’d taken medicine or something.

Quinton’s eyes narrowed. “Adam. Was he the one who sat at the table with us? The one who kept saying you looked like his wife?”

“Yeah. That’s him.”

Quinton shook his head. “I knew something was off with that guy.” His lips tightened, and his hands balled into fists. “Dammit! I told the police about him. I told them they needed to check him out because he was too attentive. Something was off.”

My heart raced as Quinton’s face changed from Quinton to Adam. I pushed myself away from him. Fear gripped me, and I struggled to breathe. I tried to speak. Tried to run, but I couldn’t do anything but retreat to the corner of the bed that had become my safe space.

“Nova, oh God, I’m so sorry. I was angry at him. I’d never ...” His voice broke. “I’d never hurt you, Nova,” he cried, his voice begging for me to understand.

I lifted my head, and tears burned my eyes, but I couldn’t go to him. I couldn’t comfort him because I had to take care of myself. I had to make sure I was okay. All I could do was watch and wait for him to be okay too.

“I know,” I finally said. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I know.” I repeated it until I believed it.

After I’d calmed down, I asked the questions I’d been dying to ask.

“Quinton. Did you have a good life? I mean, are you happy?” My words cracked as they flowed through my lips.

I wanted him to have a good life, but I was supposed to have a good life too.

I was supposed to be a part of his life with Skye.

He hesitated before he answered. “Yes,” he said softly, or maybe it was regret I heard in his words.

“I have a good life, but a piece of it was always missing,” he admitted.

“I never stopped thinking about you. And every time I look at Skye, I see you. She’s everything you would’ve wanted her to be. She’s smart. Athletic ...”

“And beautiful,” I added.

He nodded. “And beautiful. Like I said, when I see her, I see you.”

I turned away from him. “You see the me that I used to be when you look at Skye. You don’t see the me I am now. This person is ugly, frail, and hollow. Skye’s nothing like me.”

“That’s not true.”

“How can you say that? Look at me, Quinton.”

He did, but not for long, and I didn’t blame him. “You can barely look at me.”

He fixed his eyes on me and locked them there. “What I see is beautiful and strong. I see a survivor, and there’s nothing ugly about that.”

“I wish I saw who you saw.”

“I wish you did too.”

“What’s her name?” I asked.

Quinton’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

I pointed to the silver band on his ring finger. “Your wife. What’s her name?”

“Oh.” Quinton stared at the ring like he didn’t realize it was there. “Nova, I know you have questions, but can we focus on you right now? I just need to know that you’re going to be okay.”

“As long as I’m with the people I love, then I’m going to be okay. But part of being okay is knowing that you are too. I know it may not be easy to share your new life with me, but I’ve missed so much, and I want to know everything. Even if it hurts a little. I can handle it,” I assured him.

“I never doubted that for a second. And you’re right, it’s not easy.

For years all I wanted was to have you back.

The hardest thing I ever had to do was accept that you were really gone.

All of this is a lot to take in, and one day soon, I’ll tell you everything you want to know about my new life, as you called it, but for a second, I kinda just want to remember my old life. ”

I smiled. “I kinda want to remember my old life too.”

“Then let’s do that.”

For the rest of our time together, Quinton and I reminisced about the good days: the first day we brought Skye home from the hospital and Quinton drove two miles per hour on the interstate.

The day we moved into our first apartment and neither one of us knew a thing about hanging curtains or picking out furniture.

It was hard to believe that life used to be so simple for us, but we thought it was so hard.

“How’s Renee?” I asked.

The light in Quinton dimmed. “Renee is still Renee.”

There was more I could’ve asked, but I chose not to. It wasn’t hard to see that he’d rather not talk about his mom, which meant she still didn’t put him first like a mom was supposed to do.

The hospital door opened, bringing our trip to the past to an end.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Boudreaux, but my patient needs her rest so she can hurry up and get out of here and back home where she belongs.” Ashley smiled at me.

“That’s all we’ve ever wanted.” Quinton smiled, but it didn’t hide the sadness that rested in his eyes and on his shoulders.

Quinton leaned down and hugged me again before he left.

Hours afterward, his cologne lingered on my hospital gown.

I leaned into it and inhaled. I’d hoped his smell would take me back to the past. Hoped it would cause memories I’d forgotten to fill my mind and push out all the bad ones.

It didn’t. All I smelled was a life that no longer included me.

When we first got married, we had so many dreams we wanted to fulfill together.

We used to lie in bed at night and talk about our future with our houseful of children and all the trips we’d take together.

We were determined to travel the world and experience new adventures, but after fifteen years, I was sure he’d lived the life we planned with someone else.