We Were Birds

They had no idea where they were and it didn't matter one bit.

They'd long since abandoned the highway and had started driving through backroad after backroad. Eventually they'd stopped, at three AM at a cheap motel in the middle of God-only-knew-where. This fact didn't matter to them, however. Quinn had bought maps of the continental United States but soon after, they both realized neither of them could read maps. So into the trash of a rest stop they had gone and soon the pair were lost and it all seemed so beautifully exciting.

Quinn had much more money than Fern, and he'd been saving up all his life. When she'd expressed her concern over him spending all of his money on this trip...this escape, he'd laughed. "This was what I was saving up for, darlin'," he said and threw his arm around her shoulders in the truck. They'd driven until it was almost impossible for Quinn to keep his eyes open and then they'd pulled off and turned into the Super Motel 8 - so aptly named because at one point, a room cost eight dollars a night. It had changed since then, but since Quinn and Fern were getting only the bare minimum, it was of little consequence.

The man who worked at the desk looked disinterested in them and the idea that Fern's father had called the police on the two of them didn't even come to their mind. Instead they bought a room for the night and pulled their limp suitcases up to room 217. It was a run down room with a mothbitten comforter on the bed. The room smelled like cigarettes and stale coffee. It was perfect.

For Quinn, getting ready for bed simply meant discarding his jeans and flannel shirt and laying down. But Fern pulled out an oversized teeshirt, her usual bed clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. When she turned on the vanity lights, she was shocked to see how tired and worn out she looked. Her hair was plastered to her face with sweat and oil - she hadn't even realized she was hot. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail and securing it with one stretched out elastic, Fern turned on the faucet and splashed the cold water on her face.

It had not escaped her that this was the first time that she and Quinn had spent the night together. They'd always stayed up late together but never had she spent the night at his house or vice versa - for obvious reasons, of course. And there were a few times when they'd come close to...well, Fern blushed at the thought, it. Something had always happened, though. And secretley, Fern had always been glad. When they had been together, it had felt like they were doing something sneaky.

Now it was right. Now it was good. Now it was perfect. Now something would happen between the two of them and she was scared and excited. She'd never...but he had, she knew. He'd had lots of other girlfriends before her, but she'd only had one or two, and they never were on the same level that she and Quinn were. They were boys while Quinn was a, it sounded silly, a man.

Fern tucked her hair behind her ears nervously, the hair that was falling out of the ponytail, and smoothed down the shirt. Taking a deep breath, she shut off the vanity lights and left the bathroom.

When she got outside, she noticed that the bedside light she'd turned on was still on. But Quinn was inside the bed now, rolled over on his side, away from her. And from where she stood, Fern could see that his back was heaving steadily. He was fast asleep. Fern swallowed her disappointment and crawled into the scratchy bed. Turning on the side away from Quinn, she turned off the light and laid her head down on the pillow. It smelled of heavy bleach and loneliness.

Sleep did not come easy. But eventually it did come.

When he awoke, Quinn found himself lying far away from Fern, but lying on his side so he could see her back. She was huddled as far as she could to the side of the bed, which was difficult seeing as it was a double bed. Quinn swallowed. Something should have happened last night, he knew it, but he'd been so goddamn tired, he couldn't even keep his eyes open. He'd tried to wait up to at least kiss her goodnight, but he'd been out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Quinn sat up and turned over slightly. The clock read ten o clock and light was streaming in through the gap between the pulled blinds. With a sigh, Quinn turned to Fern and lowered himself so he was lying against her back. They'd never done this before - Quinn was well aware. Burying his nose into her neck, he smelled the bitter, yet sweet, scent of her perfume. She'd told him it was Neroli Oil, from the Neroli, the bitter orange, tree.

Some days, before this (because his life seemed to be separated into three parts: before he met Fern, before they ran away and now) he'd go through his day and for some reason, he'd catch a whiff of her perfume. She wouldn't even be close but he'd smell it somewhere along the breeze. It always, strangely, made his heart twist and ache, because when he smelled it, not on her, it just reminded him that he was alone.

Not anymore. He would be alone no longer. Putting his arm around her chest, Quinn pulled himself toward her. Their bare legs touched each other - Fern's smooth, Quinn's, well, not. He kissed her neck soundly and listened to her breathing. It calmed the strange, nervous part of him. She always did. "Sorry," Quinn heard himself say quietly to her neck. The arm around her chest straightened and he put it on the bare part of her leg. He was sorry for a lot of reasons, a lot of which did not have anything to do with this. Strangely enough, there were times when Quinn just felt the need to apologize to Fern. He didn't really know why. He just felt like saying sorry and sorry and sorry.

Sorry I'm not beautiful and smart and perfect like you. Sorry I can't think the way you do. Sorry that I'm just not more like you. Sorry I couldn't wait up for you. Sorry for hurting you because causing you pain is the last thing I want to do.

He didn't say any of this. When he was younger, much younger, he'd always apologize to his dad. "I'm so sorry for making mama go away," he'd say, things like that. One day, Pa had put his hands on Quinn's shoulders, knelt in front of him and looked at him with his wide eyes. "Son," he'd said, "don't ever apologize for something that just wasn't your fault." And so Quinn had stopped. Speaking the apologies. They never stopped forming in his tumbled head.

Fern shifted. "Quinn?" The voice was a little sleepy, a little unsteady and a lot curious.

"Mmhmm?" Quinn asked, rubbing his hand on her leg, just a little, just to make sure she knew he was there, to make sure she knew he'd never go away. He never could. Fern shifted and turned so that she was facing him. Her eyes were thick with sleep and it was strange, her eyelashes looked dewy, like she'd been out all night and woken up in a field. What a stupid thing to think. But he couldn't help it. Fern took his face in his hands and kissed him softly.

It's okay, she seemed to say. When she pulled back, she left the bed and went once again into the bathroom. Quinn put his arm out to the place she'd just been lying, moments before. The bed already seemed cold without her. It was a fact that seemed like it could be sad, but Fern wasn't far off. Quinn just didn't want to think of what would happen if someday, for some reason, she left, for good. But she'd have plenty of reasons to leave. She always had plenty of reasons to.

Quinn just hoped she wouldn't.

The morning passed in mostly silence. There were a lot of things they could say and a lot of things they just didn't feel like saying. The fact that they'd just run away from their home town, that was something on their mind, something they didn't discuss. The fact that they could never go back - the fact that they didn't want to. The fact that they were together now and there was no going against that. The fact that it was just them now. They'd thrown away their futures or lack of futures for each other. And to have an adventure bigger than themselves. The adventure of living life.

Fern showered and combed her hair and brushed her teeth and dressed in clean clothes. She hadn't brought much, but they'd stop eventually and do a laundry. They'd have enough money for that, right? But what would they do when the money ran out?

...That didn't matter either. Not now, because it wasn't happening today. It was happening in the distant future.

Fern and Quinn left the room, shutting the door quietly behind them. They left the motel and looked with eager eyes into the morning light. It was a crystal morning with a seemingly yellow sky and light clouds that danced on the horizon. "Well," said Fern quietly as she looked at Quinn, her lover, her darling, her....everything now. "It certainly is magical," she said. Quinn nodded and something in his eyes was strange. An emotion that she didn't recognize at first.

It was surprise. It was a little bit of awe and amazement. As if he was seeing her for the very first time. And in a way, he was. He'd never truly seen her in the light of morning, with the sun against her creating a halo around her body. She was lit up like some kind of saint or some kind of neon sign or maybe a little bit of both. Quinn reached out and touched her softly, to make sure she was real. She still stood there, waiting for him, waiting for him. She must be a saint, because she was a miracle.

"I wonder...where are we?" Quinn asked softly, looking around. A long road stretched in front of them, the road they'd been following last night. Across the road lay a few large buildings with names as vague as what went on inside.

Fern looked at Quinn and took the hand that was touching her shoulder within her own. "Does it matter?" she asked softly.

"We're lost," Quinn pointed.

Shaking her head, Fern smiled. "We're not lost," she said with a touch of strange happiness to her voice that startled Quinn. It was a kind of happiness he'd never heard in her voice before. It was a careless happiness. She'd never truly been this free before. "We're here."

And without a doubt, she was right. They weren't lost, they were there, wherever there was. And she was right, it didn't matter. Because wherever they were, it wasn't just that they were together, it was that they were alive. They were breathing, they were looking and their hearts were pounding in the rythym of tomorrow. Everything seemed like one great symphony. Quinn and Fern were simply players in the grand scheme of things. They'd come in and then they'd come out, but the symphony would go on and on forever. But their part mattered. Whatever they played, it added to that symphony. They mattered, what they did mattered.

So they were living. They were living as much as they could. Quinn squeezed her hand, understanding a little more. Understanding what, he had no clue. But he understood it - whatever it was. "Should we keep going?" he asked.

Fern laughed and nodded. "Of course." Without anymore words, they got into Quinn's truck, he started the engine, and they were on their way, driving down the road. It was a few moments before either of them spoke again, but finally Fern took a deep breath. "It's strange to think about, but nothing is ever going to feel exactly the same. And we are probably never, ever going to be here again. And even if we are, it's going to be different, you know?" she said, looking from the window to Quinn's face, which was concentrating on the road ahead.

"Then I guess we should do our best to rememeber exactly how we're feeling right now," he said. "But we can't be afraid to let go of some of those feelings to make room for new ones, you know? Because if we try to remember too much, we forget to live."

"Yeah, I know," Fern said quietly with a smiled. "I'm glad you're here with me."

Quinn only smiled a little shyly at that and continued to drive. Looking at his face, all of Fern's feelings of disappointment from the night before vanished. Because she was lucky. So lucky. To have someone that understood her the way Quinn did. To have someone who wasn't afraid to speak not only his mind, but his heart. To have someone that just knew. She was so lucky. She would never let go of this. So she did what Quinn said. She closed her eyes and remembered how she was feeling right at that moment.

Fern made a promise to herself then. It didn't matter, that other part of what Quinn said. Well, it did, but not right now. She would never forget this feeling. She would always remember this. She would never forget.