Saving Quinton (Nova #2)(49)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

I stare at the phone in my hand, Tristan’s words replaying in my head, wondering if he’s right. If maybe it won’t do any good. If I’m trying to search for a solution to a problem that can’t be fixed, one that’s so much bigger than me, something that I saw today in the parking garage.

Still I at least have to try. Because the last time I didn’t try, someone wound up dead.

* * *

When I arrive back at Lea’s uncle’s house, it’s midafternoon and I’m exhausted, more than I have been in a long time. But I try to stay positive and hopeful as I tell Lea my plan and ask her for her help in calling Quinton’s dad.

“I don’t know what to say to him,” she states as I sink down on the sofa beside her, exhausted. She collects the remote from the armrest and aims it at the television, muting it. She turns to me on the sofa, bringing her leg up on the cushion. “Parents are, well, parents, you know. And I don’t think he’s going to respond well to a friend of Quinton’s calling him and telling him his son’s a junkie.”

I wince at the word junkie. “Well, do you have a better idea?” I ask.

She considers it for a minute or two. “Call your mom.”

“What?”

“Call your mom and ask her to call his dad.”

I slump back in the sofa, wondering if that’s a good idea or not. “You really think that’s the best way?”

She kicks her bare feet up on the table. “You remember how before we could help with that suicide hotline we had to go through that screening process and training?” she asks and I nod. “Well, you haven’t gone through the training process of being a parent yet,” she jokes.

I snort a laugh. “That’s kind of a good thing.” I twist a strand of my hair around my finger, thinking. “But I get your point.”

She offers me a small smile and pats my leg. “Call your mom and ask her.”

I sigh and retrieve my phone from my pocket, dialing my mom’s number. I start out with a light conversation, telling her in vague detail how my last couple of days have been. Then I dodge around to telling her my idea about getting ahold of Quinton’s dad and asking him for help.

“And you think I should be the one to call him?” she asks in a hesitant tone.

“Yeah…I mean, you are a mom and get things that I don’t,” I tell her, thinking about the parents I saw at the clinic. “I’m sure you understand this on a level I can’t even begin to understand, especially considering the hell I put you through.”

I swear it sounds like she’s crying. What I don’t get is why. I didn’t say anything overpowering or anything. Just the truth.

“You’re acting so grown-up right now,” she says, and I can definitely hear her sucking back the tears. “Give me the number and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I say and then tell her the name and number, making sure she understands that I’m not 100 percent sure it’s still Mr. Carter’s number. She says she’ll try it and call me back in just a bit. Then I hang up and Lea and I head into the kitchen to get a snack.

“So how do you think it’s going to go?” I ask Lea as I open the fridge door. “Do you think his dad is going to freak out?”

She shrugs as she searches the cupboards. “I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, me either,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water before closing the fridge and turning around. “Although I’m sort of worried he’ll go through denial—my mom did for a while.”

She takes out a box of crackers, shuts the cupboard, and hops up on the counter, letting her legs hang over the edge. “What I’m wondering is how Quinton will react if his dad suddenly gets ahold of him. I mean, I honestly don’t think he’s just going to give up everything because of that.”

“Yeah, me neither…but I have to try.” I squeeze my eyes shut, picturing Quinton: the weight he’s lost, the emptiness in his honey-brown eyes after he did drugs, the anger in his voice. “I have to try everything I can think of before I can even start to give up—I have to know I tried everything this time.” I open my eyes as Lea starts to say something, but my phone rings from inside my pocket and cuts her off. I take it out and glance at the screen. “It’s my mom,” I tell Lea and then answer it. “Hey, that was quick.”

“That’s because I couldn’t get ahold of him,” she says, and my hope plummets.

“It wasn’t the right number?” I ask, opening up the bottle of water.

“No, it was, but he didn’t answer…I left a message, though. We’ll see where it goes—if he calls me back or not.”

She sounds so doubtful and my shoulders slump forward, my mood sinking lower as I lean back against the fridge. “Do you think he’ll call you back?”

“Maybe,” she says uncertainly. “If he doesn’t in a day or two, I’ll try calling him again…but Nova, I don’t want you to get your hopes up that this is going to fix everything. Trust me, as I mother I know that even if a parent wants to help it doesn’t mean the child will accept it.”

“I know that.” I sound so depressed and I know it’s probably worrying her.

“I love you, Nova, and I’m glad you care so much about this, and I’m not trying to get your hopes down,” she says. “But I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” I assure her. “I’m just tired.” I take a swallow of water, my throat feeling very dry against the lie. I know I’m more than tired. I’m stressed and lost and overwhelmed.

“Yeah, but…” She struggles and then finally just says, “You sound sad and I think it might be time to call it quits, come home, and let me get ahold of the boy’s dad so he can take care of him.”

“I promise I’m fine,” I insist and I can feel Lea’s gaze boring into me. “I’m not ready to give up and come home yet.”

“You don’t sound fine,” she points out. “You sound like you’re in that place again…that one where I…and I just…” She’s on the verge of crying. “And I don’t want you to go there—I want you to be happy. Do things that make you happy.”

“I am happy.” I force a light tone, even though the sound of her voice is breaking my heart. “In fact, Lea and I were just about to go out and have some fun exploring the city.”