Noshin Tasnim Hassan
At the age of seventy seven, there’s only so much a woman could hark back to. Quinn Hoffman could barely remember what she had for breakfast last Sunday, let alone the prime of her life when she’d done and gone through so much. However, certain memories remained somewhere at the back of her mind; ones that she cherished since day one and still did, and ones that haunted her and sometimes derived pleasure from purloining the sleep from her already exhausted eyes.
*
“There you are, my little Quinny.”
The six year old let go of her mother’s hand and rushed towards the man emerging from the gates of Sonoma State, her long dark ponytail swinging back and forth like a pendulum. She burst into laughter as her father scooped her up in his arms and left a peck on her forehead before looking over at her mother, the couple greeting each other with a knowing smile.
A warm feeling settled in the pit of Quinn’s stomach as she tightened her hold around her father’s neck, feeling more than content in her happy and safe space. She loved when her father picked her up on certain nights and went to the cozy little restaurant in the next block afterwards. They used to have dinners frequently over there, way more than they dined in their own house. Therefore, a huge part of Quinn’s childhood lay in that particular brownstone building surrounded by blue and white, and probably the mouthwatering scent of chicken sizzling.
To this day, if she tried hard enough, she could still recall what the place looked like, how the food tasted, how she used to make silly faces with her mother at the camera while her father clicked pictures of them. Sometimes, she would try to relive that particular moment, try to feel her mother’s arms around her, try to remember what the sound of her parents’ laughter sounded like and what they looked like in their late twenties, try to recall what being a kid felt like. She’d fail the majority of the time but she loved the rare feeling that permeated her heart when she could picture bits and pieces of her past and put faces to certain names that she thought she’d long forgotten, her body receiving the much needed serotonin boost.
Quinn preserved this specific memory with all of her heart. It was pretty much her only reminder of her parents nowadays. No matter how many times she replayed it in her head, it was still as significant as it was the day it was created.
*
Those hauntingly beautiful green eyes made up Quinn’s next prominent memory.
The first time that she saw Bill Skalberg was when she was twenty. At first glance, he looked like any other guy. Quinn did not even heed his existence and eventually forgot about him.
The second time she saw him, however, she knowingly walked through the gates of paradise as she soaked up his image in her brain. His light brown hair was slightly long and thick, making Quinn want to run her fingers through it even if it was for only once. His eyes, as green as the forest’s night and dreamy, pulled her in strongly, making her want to dive into them over and over again. More than half of the population of the entire universe would kill to have his perfect nose, long and slender and just slightly pointy. His full lips formed a cupid’s bow and every time he’d smile, the corner of his eyes would crinkle in the most sublime way.
He was wearing a grey dress shirt and black slacks, his shoulders moving as he laughed at something that one of friends had said. Unlike most men that Quinn had seen in those days, he wasn’t extremely muscular or tanned, nor did he fuss over his appearance that much. He was just him; simple and modest and just extremely beautiful. In that moment, Quinn felt something that she would feel every time she thought of him for the rest of her life; serenity.
Seeing Bill for the second time in her life made her realize that maybe she wanted to know what this man was like; where was he from, what made him happy, how did he care for his loved ones.
Her silent wish was granted.
Four years later, not only did Quinn know almost everything about Bill Skalberg, she was also married to him. They both opened up to each other in the most beautiful and intimate way possible, learning about each other’s flaws and desires, which only made Quinn want to protect him more and vice versa. It was safe to say that on the day of their wedding, a marriage certificate wasn’t the only thing that she gained but her best friend, too.
“I’ll never finish falling in love with you, Quinn Hoffman.”
*
If colors could delineate Quinn’s memories, red would always be the hot inferno of her life that nobody would dare to speak of.
She would often indulge in retrospection, thinking about that fateful day she lost something that she didn’t even realize she had. Quinn had been married for eight years and she was happier than ever. Both her and Bill had great jobs that they loved, they had a moderately big house, could afford vacation to a foreign country once a year, were still crazy about each other; life was good.
However, in order to maintain that lifestyle, the couple had to be diligent and work twice as hard, which they did happily. The fact that they enjoyed doing what they did helped, but it also meant that they had to sacrifice certain things, case in point: they could barely spend any time together, unless they were on a holiday. But neither of them had a problem with that because at the end of the day, they both shared a home and a successful marriage.
That one memory that still besieged Quinn day and night was the result of an unfortunate event that came about on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The last one week had been quite hectic for her; with two family dinners hosted by her and Bill, and her work, Quinn was fatigued. She had been feeling physically weak and had also noticed some weight loss, but the latter she chose to ignore. She was in bed with her grey comforter, scrolling through her phone after lunch while Bill was downstairs fixing the kitchen sink.
That’s when she felt it.
A sharp pain ruptured in her lower belly and quickly expanded throughout her stomach, making her squirm. It couldn’t be menstrual cramps nor was her stomach demanding her to eat. The throbbing turned stronger, making Quinn sit up quickly and place a hand on her clothed tummy as she winced.
What the hell is happening and am I dying were her first thoughts, which gradually got lost at the back of her head as she started to feel somewhat light-headed. With shaky hands and legs, she placed her feet on the cool floor and tried to stand up but she felt the weight of her lower body drag her back down. She called for Bill, once, twice as she clutched onto the side table and tried to force herself to stand back on her feet, while the excruciating throbbing now felt as if someone was stabbing her repeatedly. Somehow, she pushed herself to stand up but literally wobbled as dizziness took over her senses and her breathing heightened.
She felt it again.
She sensed something hot and heavy gush down her legs and nervously looked down, still shaking. Patches of red slowly flowed past her calves and pooled around her feet, making Quinn swallow thickly.
Watching the blood clot brought back certain memories from the past. She saw little red hearts and the first flowers Bill had given to her, which were red roses. For a very long time she thought red was her favorite colour. She loved the little red roses and little red hearts. She loved wearing a particular red dress because Bill always complimented her in it.
But now, as Quinn stood frozen in her room still looking down at her feet, she realized that it wasn’t hearts and flowers. It was something else and she had an idea of what it might be but she desperately prayed for it to be anything but that.
An hour later, Quinn Hoffman was told by her doctor that she had suffered a miscarriage. Instead of tearing up or feeling anything, the first thought that hit her was I wish I knew I had him or her with me. That way, she would’ve been more careful and looked after herself better. That way, she wouldn’t have felt the way she was feeling then, empty and shattered. The ache in her throat augmented and her body went numb momentarily. She’d just lost the most beautiful and precious part of her.
I’ll never be able to count those tiny toes.
She hated her mind for being such a fickle companion at that moment.
“You didn’t know; it’s okay.”
She heard Bill say softly and clutch onto her hand.
“I should’ve known.”
*
Out of all of her memories that she still remembered, the one where Bill Skalberg left her forever debilitated Quinn the most.
She had stood in front of the grave in Bill’s hometown with his family. The sable blackness of her outfit wasn’t any different from those of the people that stood around her. Her puffy eyes ran over the marble headstone and the etched writing on it.
It was true that Bill would get sick often, ever since he had stepped into his sixties. Quinn had always been there for him, looking after him and making sure that he never lost his spark, even though she didn’t have much strength in her own legs. Her fifty sixth birthday – two years ago – had been spent on a hospital bed, her doctors diagnosing her with osteopenia.
She remembered every single detail vividly; seeing the love of her life getting buried six feet under the ground had left a bitter, everlasting impression on her heart. Her heart wrenched at the sight. She refused to look away as the casket was lowered down, her lips trembled and shoulders heaved with emotion. Her dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears and her hands clenched into shaking fists in a desperate battle against grief. A lone tear traced down her cheek and just like that, the floodgates opened. Beads of water started falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. Brick by brick, her walls tumbled down. Her sobs ripped through her muscles, bones and gut.
Quinn had lost her best friend, her husband, Bill Skalberg, the only love of her life. She never knew the meaning of true heartbreak, never knew she could be so lonely, that her heart could hurt this way and go through such extreme emotional pain, that her life would change so much.
Until he was gone.
“I just miss you, that’s all.”