Love is a Fickle Flame

by Esmée Lieuw On

The cufflinks she dreamed of wearing rested on the rickety table before her. Lapis lazuli colored with a golden edge, they were perfect and the final touch her suit needed. She examined her own reflection in the mirror as her hands pulled on her tie once more. Her focus shifted when she noticed Jack standing behind her. His brows drew together and he fidgeted with the ring around his index finger. She smiled at him. “What? Wrong tie?”

He took a deep breath and unbuttoned his blazer. “Liv, I need to tell you something.”

She nodded. “Well? Out with it. It’s bad rep for the bride to be late to her own wedding, you know.”

He slowly drew out the words. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“What?” she exclaimed. Sweat began trickling down her neck as she noticed he hadn’t met her eyes once.

His voice calm like the ocean before a storm. “Quinn’s gone.” The room’s stale air filled his lungs as he prepared himself to utter the next words. “She’s not in her room. I swear I checked everywhere. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

At first, Olivia didn’t believe him, but having known him for nearly two decades, she knew he wouldn’t joke about something like that on her wedding day. He clasped his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. She sat down across from him, the leather of the couch creasing slightly, pinched the bridge of her nose, and tried to control her breathing as her brain fogged up.

He repeated the words as if she hadn’t heard them the first time around. Her jaw clenched and he took that to mean he should explain, but he couldn’t. He didn’t understand it himself. He buried his head in his hands, in as much disbelief as her.

She stood, started pacing, crossed her arms against her chest, and tried coming up with all the different scenarios of where Quinn could have possibly gone. She chuckled imagining Quinn having simply gone down the street to get snacks, and then a flutter in her stomach emerged not putting it past Quinn to get her flowers until right before the wedding started. But then a thought occurred which she’d pushed away since meeting Quinn, a thought that had seemingly disappeared from her mind but yet lingered in the back like a door standing ajar.

She doesn’t love me.

********************

Four years ago, Olivia met Quinn in a war over the last copy of One Last Stop. Quinn’s dark brown wavy hair and piercing blue eyes were reason enough for Olivia to lose. In an apology effort, Quinn bought Olivia a coffee, a drink she was too polite to decline despite her genuine distaste in coffee. Their “it wasn’t a date” date lasted ten hours before Olivia had to give in and call its time of death.

Every morning after that, they spent their time flower shopping, book browsing, cuddling in bed, and for the first time, Olivia felt safe to let down the walls she had taken care to build. It was those who broke her heart that caused her to never be vulnerable again. She had made peace with that fact—until Quinn. Quinn, who got out of bed extra early to make them breakfast. Quinn, who made sure they always had flowers in the house. Quinn, who convinced her to go cliff diving. That was insane, Olivia concluded, but it made sense because that’s what being with Quinn felt like: a never-ending adventure full of surprises.

She just left the last surprise for Olivia to discover all by herself on their wedding day.

Olivia’s mind catapulted back into the room. When the thought resurfaced like a tidal wave, her knees gave out and she collapsed against the wall. She felt the paper in her side pocket crackle.

Her vows.

She crafted her vows around little moments with Quinn. Like tiny spots of moments when she was happy, shaping the present in the image of the irretrievable past. She closed her eyes and, a moment later, long wailing sobs erupted. Olivia didn’t know how to be silent when her heart spoke.

Jack knew it too. He’d seen up close all the times Olivia got her hopes up and returned from dates giddy with excitement, only to be met with disappointment. He encouraged her to not lose hope, and when Quinn arrived and things were working out, he felt the pressing weight on his shoulders lifted. He didn’t need to worry because, finally, there was someone who would take care of Olivia like he did all those years.

All of that went up in smoke within a matter of minutes, and Jack hated Quinn for it.

Olivia did too at first, but the feeling quickly evaporated. It didn’t matter if she was angry because it wouldn’t change the reality of the situation. She knew the truth: she had loved this woman with every fiber of her being, cared for her on sick days, bought gifts for every milestone, planned date nights, and made sure she had everything her heart desired. It was all just shy of enough.

She ran her hands through her hair, trying to catch her breath. Jack crouched down beside her and she rested her head on his shoulder. Faint light drifted through the window as the sun began to set. The mosaic tiles split the colors into tiny specks across the wall. Jack squeezed her arm gently. “Liv, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Olivia said quietly, as her throat constricted further. “It’s mine.”

He shook his head. “N-no, what? Why would you say that?” His squinted and tried to meet her eyes, but her gaze held firmly on the empty space in front of them.

And then, she shook the assumption away. She pulled herself up and went across the hall where Quinn should be. She knocked first and quietly said Quinn’s name. She slowly pushed the door open and was met with an empty room. She flipped every pillow and moved everything around to check for a note, an explanation. Something. But, nothing.

She peered out the window and something brewed inside her as the street remained empty. She noted that, through the tree which danced in the gentle breeze, the street stretched beyond her view in both directions but no cars passed by on it. She listened to the silence and willed her brain to join it. She hastened back to her room and found her phone. Earlier, she turned airplane mode on so she wouldn’t get distracted, only now there was no more reason to stay disconnected. When she turned it off, she expected a string of messages and voicemails from Quinn, but there was nothing. Without hesitation, she called. After five failed tries, she called Quinn’s mom. She answered on the first try. “Liv? You okay?”

“I can’t find her.” She exhaled a breath, laughing while tears welled up at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know where she went. You have to help me.”

Within minutes, Quinn’s mom was at the doorstep. They tried to call Quinn a dozen more times with no luck. Downstairs, the murmurs began. Nearly a hundred guests and none with a clue where Quinn went. So many pairs of eyes that didn’t result to anything.

Quinn’s parents went to their house, hoping to find Quinn there, leaving Olivia in limbo. Olivia, unable to sit still, threw her blazer into the corner of her room. If her suit hadn’t cost so much, she would have ripped it apart. Jack picked up the blazer and hung it on a hanger. The church bells chimed, ringing loudly through her ears. It’s the exact moment they would have walked down the aisle, and Olivia would have finally gotten her happily ever after.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jack said.

Olivia wheeled on him. “Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for anyone.” She placed two fingers between her collar and her tie and pulled it with brute force from her neck. “She left because I wasn’t enough.”

All the energy she gave to justifying the situation completely drained her. Nonetheless, she stood and tucked her blouse back into her pants. Her fingers looped around the tie as she redid it. She turned to Jack, who held a wealth of emotion in his eyes she couldn’t begin to interpret. Well, except the fear. That didn’t need any interpretation. “Come on,” she said. “Everyone’s waiting.”

She held her head high, straightened her tie, and went to face the crowd.

********************

Time passed. Olivia no longer spent her mornings in Quinn’s arms, but spread across the bed like a starfish. She found losing someone you loved like having to relearn how to ride a bike. The basics were there, but the depth, the skill to ride with one hand or whilst there’s a heavy bag hanging on the steering wheel, was tricky.

The pitying text messages and weekly check-ins from friends and family had subsided, granting Olivia momentary peace. She hadn’t spoken to or heard from Quinn for over a month, and had all but given up hope that she would. She posted on Instagram as often as she could, feeding the illusion that she was okay. Getting left at the altar was a mere asterisk to her name.

Until Quinn called.

Her name bright on the screen, hot like a searing pain. Her thumb hovered over the decline button, but the answers she craved still gnawed at her stomach. She accepted the call.

There was nothing but silence for the first few seconds, filling the void of all the words unsaid. And then, Quinn spoke, her voice trembling. “I know I’m probably the last person you’d want to hear from and you hate me, but can you come over?”

The request stunned Olivia. Her grip around her phone tightened as her heart started racing. “I’ll have to think about it.” She hung up.

Olivia set down her phone and began pacing. Memories of the wedding day surged like a river, flooding back with vivid clarity. All the hands she shook, the “I’m sorrys” she endured, the hundred different ways she talked about it, answering questions of people who wanted an explanation, as if she should have seen it coming.

She reached for her phone, considering whether or not to call Jack, but she shook her head. He would tell her not to go, and something, albeit a spark of curiosity, was insisting she went. So, she grabbed her jacket and sped toward the answers she wanted. When she arrived, she brushed her clammy hands against her pants and searched for Quinn’s doorbell amongst the seventy other possibilities. That was, until she realized Quinn’s key was still attached to her keychain. It hadn’t occurred to her to return it since Quinn hadn’t been by to pick up her stuff. Letting herself in, though, felt wrong. This was no longer a place she could call home.

The buzzer sounded clear as day and she went through, made her way to the elevators, and pressed the button for the seventh floor. When she got there, the door stood open.

She entered quietly, slid out of her shoes, and hung her jacket on one of the hooks in the hallway. Quinn was in her bedroom, hidden beneath a big blanket.

Her pale complexion and bony fingers said she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Her eyes were streaked red like she’d been crying for a while. Olivia sat down beside her, and only then did Quinn meet her gaze. “You came.”

“You called.” Olivia replied, biting down on her cheek. All she wanted was an explanation. She even clung to anger for a minute, but, ultimately, she didn’t have it in her to feel much of anything, really. Quinn’s curtains weren’t drawn like they had been for the better part of their relationship. It was one of the things Olivia envied most of Quinn: her cheery morning self. Now, all that remained was a darkness pooling in the room.

Olivia felt conflicted at the sight. On one hand, she could walk away considering Quinn was no longer her concern, but on the other hand, seeing Quinn like this—disheveled, penetrated by sadness, completely detached from her surroundings—it felt like a knife being pushed further into her chest. A deeper feeling rose to the surface, a promise they made each other every day during their relationship. Olivia could tell her friend was in trouble, and the love she carried for her would never be something she could turn off like a light switch.

Olivia switched her phone into airplane mode and set it on the nightstand. She walked over to the other side of the bed and pulled the blanket back. She slid in next to Quinn and briefly felt Quinn’s cold touch, startling her. She inhaled the familiar lavender scented perfume, pushing away the thought of Jack telling her she was crazy for doing this. The arch of Quinn’s spine so delicate; Olivia wanted to run her hand across, but she pulled her hand back, the knot in her stomach tightening.

Minutes ticked by. The sound of sirens in the distance melting with the background. Olivia should leave, but her body refused. This was where she needed to be. She put her hand on Quinn’s shoulder before Quinn flipped over to face her. Olivia kept her distance, observing how the love of her life had buried herself. Tears formed at the crevice of Quinn’s eyes again. Olivia quickly wiped them away, almost as if erasing the notion of them being there.

About the Author

Esmée Lieuw On is a writer of Chinese descent, born and raised in the Netherlands. She’s currently finishing her Master's degree in Journalism.  She’s on X – @esmeelo_ and Instagram – @esmeel01.