Taking Turns (Turning #1)(95)

“That song is about dying, Chella. Whatever this is, whatever reason she had for doing all this. She did it as a goodbye.”

Chella lets out a long exhale. “She left, so that is a goodbye. But I don’t think she left to kill herself, Quin.”

“The song is about death,” I say, too loud.

“I didn’t know her well, Quin. Not at all, hardly. But if there’s one thing I understood about Rochelle, it’s that she’s not a literal person. She’s an artist. A musician. Maybe a painter and a poet. But she didn’t write out those lyrics on the ceiling as a premonition of her suicide. She wrote as them as a memorial to your love.”

“So our love is dead.” That doesn’t help.

“Maybe it’s just a new beginning?” Chella asks. “Maybe she just wanted out of this arrangement? Did that ever occur to you?”

“Then why not tell me?” I ask, turning my head to look at Chella. “Why just… pick up and leave? She knew the rules.”

“Maybe I don’t know all the rules of Taking Turns, Quin. But it’s my understanding that once you walk out, there’s no turning back.”

I don’t answer.

“So maybe she left to end the game and give the two of you a chance to start over?”

“I’m supposed to look for her?” I want to throw up. “And I didn’t. She’s been gone for a month. She could be anywhere. She probably thinks—”

“She probably thinks it’s gonna take a while for you to sort it all out, Quin. So don’t jump to conclusions.”

The song ends and the needle plays endless static as it jumps the open space at the center of the record.

“I think this is over now,” I say.

“Yeah,” Chella says in a low, sad whisper. “I think so too.”

We lie there in the static of nothingness for a little longer. And then Chella gets up and crawls over to the record player again, picking up the needle and turning it off. “Come on,” she says, tugging on my hand. “Let’s go to sleep.”

She climbs down from the attic and I follow a few second later. She’s changing out of her dress and into a t-shirt and shorts. I walk across the hall, into the closet I share with Bric and Smith, and slowly undress until I’m only wearing gray boxer briefs.

Chella is waiting for me in bed, holding the covers open so I can climb in. I flip off the light and then pull her close.

“Merry Christmas,” she says, holding on to me tight.

“Merry Christmas, Chella,” I say, hugging her back.

We sleep like that. Clutching each other like we don’t want to let go.

But we both know it’s time to let go.





Chapter Thirty-Three - Smith




“So tonight?” I’m trying my best to be cool with this, but I’m not cool with this.

“That’s what she told Quin.”

Chella made herself very clear the other night. She wants to experience the four of us together. The quad, as we like to call it. And I’ll admit, this was my aim as well when we first started the game.

But I’m not sure anymore.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bric says. “And I don’t think it’s fair.”

“No,” I say. “You wouldn’t. Because you want this.”

“You want it too.”

“I did, now… now so much.”

Bric throws up his hands. We’re sitting in my bar at the Club. Quin and Chella are out… doing something fun today. “So back out, Smith. Call the game. End it. We won’t care if you do.”

I know he won’t. Quin, maybe. But Bric’s not a grudge holder. He’s not invested in very much, if you ask me. But who asked me?

“We’ll get over it. Find a new girl.”

“I don’t want a new girl, Bric. I’m out.”

He doesn’t bother throwing up his hands. He doesn’t even shrug. “So do it. Leave. But she wants it, Smith. And that’s the only thing that matters at this point. She wants it. So you better think about that. If you call the game she might be mad at you.”

“Then maybe that’s how it has to be?”

“Maybe you’re just being juvenile?”

“Maybe I’m just in love?”

“Maybe she’s not in love with you back?”

Burn. “She is,” I say. But I’m not really as sure as I sound.

“How many ways can I explain this to you, Smith? Let’s use Rochelle as an example. She left. Why?”

“She was done?”

“With Quin?” he asks. “I don’t think so. She left to end the game and start over. Quin told me Chella found some secret room up in the attic of her apartment. Rochelle’s secret room. There’s a lot of stuff up there about starting over. Rochelle had to leave the game in order to do that. It doesn’t mean she never cared about me or you and it doesn’t mean she’s not in love with Quin. It means… The game. Is. Over. That’s it. I’m almost positive she’s coming back. Not to us, but to Quin. She just needs to sort things out first.”

“Chella isn’t Rochelle. Not even close. She’s not… weird, for one. And she’s not desperate for anything.”