The 18th Time They Lost Me Chapter 10

The 18th Time They Lost Me Chapter 10

Sophomore year, I stayed on campus over winter break. Picked up shifts at the university library, shelving books. 

The Moonrise Festival came and the library was 

deserted. 

Fireworks popped somewhere outside, the sound 

muted through the windows. 

I sat cross–legged in the aisle between shelves, 

textbook open in my lap. 

My phone lit up. A photo from Mom. 

Five place settings at the dining table. [Happy 

Moonrise Festival, Quinn.] 

Junior year, I won a major scholarship. 

Senior year, I was accepted into a graduate 

program. Full scholarship. Overseas. 

The day I left, I went to see Grandma. 

The cemetery sat on a hill, and the wind was 

relentless. 

I laid white lilies against her headstone, crouched down, and wiped the dust away with my hand. 

Her photo was black and white. She was smiling, 

with that same warm look in her eyes. Exactly how 

I remembered her. 

On the plane, I took the window seat. 

The sky stretched out gray–blue above me, and 

below, the city shrank into a tangle of streets until 

it was nothing. 

I never went back. I heard Silas graduated and 

moved down south. 

Every now and then he’d drop a photo in the family 

group chat. He always tagged me. 

I never responded. He never asked why. 

Mom still sent a message every month. 

Sometimes a photo came with it. Dad would add a 

line underneath. [Take care.] 

I read every one. I never wrote back. 

What do you say to people who waited until your stopped needing them? 

Another Moonrise Festival. Mom sent a video. 

The dining table was covered with food. 

Mom smiled into the camera. “Quinn, come home 

for the holiday! Dad and I set up a room for you. We even bought you a brand–new, full–sized bed!” 

I was sitting at the desk in my apartment. Rain 

tapped against the glass. 

I locked my phone without changing expression 

and exited the group chat. 

I didn’t need any of it anymore.