June 1, 2011
A/N: Well, this is it, ladies and gentleman! I had a wonderful time sharing this story and thank everyone who read and reviewed. Having readers submit feedback warms my heart. In a nutshell, Quinn's last and final attempt ended in . . . failure! She tried, she really did. Jane has an odd conversation that leads to her own insight with none other than Brittany! Last person I thought to incite insight. Quinn, with the help of her Fashion friends and a big maturity growth spurt came to a place of understanding, letting go of the sister that was gone. Very sad. Yet, don't let that stop you from reading the last chapter of 'If Nothing Else.' Enjoy!
Chapter 7: If Nothing Else
Quinn was sitting upright in a flash, panting like an overwork sled dog. The dream, it was so real, she recalled in panic. Tossing the blanket aside, she leapt from her bed and moved with agile quickness to the guest bedroom. Opening the door, she frowned. Daria was gone, the bed neatly made and everything just in its place as if never lived in. It was peculiar, but nowadays Quinn didn't question her sister's habits. She returned with the little comfort that her sister was safe and not free falling through deathly blackness like she had been traveling moments ago.
-Daria-
They had met in a small café off the free way that allowed them privacy from a town filled with friends, and even more so, acquaintances. Andy set two frothy, hot beverages between them before sliding into the booth. "Either I have to lose weight, or they need to invest in roomier seating," he jested.
Daria flashed a sympathetic smile, her eyes downcast in thought. Andy squirmed until he found a reasonably comfortable position then returned his attention to his girlfriend. Daria had not touched her coffee or even her danish. Andy starred at the items while Daria avoided contact. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" he blurted out to his own amazement.
"No – yes," she resolved. She liked Andy a lot. However, after the weird and insightful dream, Daria had made a decision to shed this bimbo persona she temporarily adopted for nearly the entire summer. Andy, sadly, had fallen for a girl she could no longer employ as herself. She couldn't be someone she wasn't, she had learned that when she had volunteered to read to senior citizens that one time in high school.
"I'm really sorry," she added, her voice had sunk into its monotone slant. Andy looked away at the growing line at the counter and the new customers selecting seats. It's as if they somehow knew that he and Daria needed their privacy as no one sat near them.
"Did I do something wrong? Is it the fact we are leaving for college in a few weeks?" Andy was restless. He could not find logical conclusions for her want to separate. They had already decided to visit, since they were only about forty-five to sixty minutes from each other. They were committed, and yet, here she was shattering his glass-stained heart into millions of fragments.
"No," Daria replied adamantly. She wanted to just leave it at that, but knew that Andy deserved more. So, against her wishes, she recollected her dream, going into vivid detail that only a writer would.
Andy listened until Daria came to conclude her story. "So, that is why you're breaking up with me?"
Daria glared, obviously peeved at his incredulously and apish tone. She didn't find her dream funny, or the situation she was dwelling in currently.
"Daria, I really don't want to break up. It doesn't sound like your core values changed, just perhaps your depth," shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, "and I could willingly get use to a little more depth and some shallow dipping into my wallet."
"What?" Daria snapped. "Why were you dating me, jerk, if you felt I was lacking something?"
Putting up his hands defensively, Andy interjected, "Hold on, I didn't say that? Let me clarify, okay? I think you have a lot of intellect and I adore that because I could talk endlessly with you on all sorts of things, trivial to complex, but I always felt you were masking it. I know from experience and observation that expecting a person to change by your hand is foolish, but I was hoping that if I patiently waited this untapped potential of yours would blossom and I would be that guy to be there for that."
Daria eyed him carefully, and despite wanting to dump the still steaming cup of cappuccino on his lap, she considered her acts of the past weeks and him, as a person, and reasoned that he wasn't insulting her, but being honest.
"Not to mention," he continued, "I like you a lot, and yes, I'm rich – but that's my parents' money – not mine. So, all these expensive places I go with you are starting to really make a dent in the little savings I've accumulated."
Daria blushed, knowing that Andy wasn't exaggerating when he said that. He had treated her to many expensive outings, never asking any compensation fiscally or physically. It was silent again, then Daria sighed and made an offer she thought fair. "This is weird and consuming my mind. I need to attend to some things, first. But, if you're up for it, I would be willing to continue dating."
"You're a touch negotiator, but look who I'm talking to," he laughed, "brilliant daughter of Helen Morgendorffer, one of the most terrifying and vicious lawyers in Pennsylvania. You take care of what you need to. I'm here when you want or if you need some moral support. Just don't wait too long, I don't want you forget me." Andy smiled supportively at her then took a big gulp of his piping, hot beverage.
"I don't think that's possible," Daria chuckled. "Not with that quirky foam mustache you're fashioning."
-Daria-
Daria returned that afternoon feeling content with her talk with Andy. She retained her boyfriend, and with that also, she retained her want to understand and explore this new person. The Raft student sluggishly ascended the stairs toward her rooms. Standing in the middle of the hallway, Daria contemplated if she should go left into her old room or right into the guest bedroom.
-Daria-
Quinn was humming the tune to a new song she had listened to in her car when the opened door to Daria's room caught her attention. For weeks the room had been vacated by her sister, so who could be in the room, now? Surely, her parents weren't in there. With the utmost caution, Quinn approached the doorway. There, Daria sat in her swivel chair, staring into space. The professional writing major jumped when the wrapping of Quinn knocking rippled into the otherwise quiet room.
"Hey," Quinn greeted, also nervous, having watched Daria nearly fall out of the chair. "Are you okay?" She moved to the lumpy, old bed and sat down, her gaze never leaving her older sister.
"Um, yeah," Daria mumbled, she was chewing on her nail and knowing it was an unusual characteristic to show, she still couldn't stop from continuing to gnaw. "I'm just a little confused, that's all."
"Yeah," Quinn began loftily, "breaking up with someone can be hard." The sisters locked eyes, and the redhead immediately registered that Daria was curious to know how Quinn had found out. "I overheard you rehearsing your break-up in the bathroom."
Daria wanted to accuse her of eavesdropping, but she was sure that wasn't Quinn's intentions. "Uh, yeah, um, I didn't break-up with him. He convinced me that the relationship was worth 'giving the college try'," Daria snorted at her comment. She had been taking great interest in the carpet, moving side-to-side in the chair.
"Oh, well that's great, Daria," Quinn responded cheerily. She frowned, "You still seem upset."
Daria sighed, why did apologizing have to be so hard? Maybe, it was because it meant admitting you were wrong and serving yourself up for a complete shut out by the other person. Great.
"I guess because last night I had a horrible dream, which afterward uncovered my memories," seeing the elated look of Quinn, Daria quickly elaborated, "Quinn, I don't have all my memories, and . . ."
"You aren't the same person, I know," Quinn finished, her lighted eyes settling back into dullness.
"Yes, but no, I remember the feelings from the memories, but I haven't lost the ones in between from the summer. So, right now it's like trying to mesh two people into one and I just feel lost and misshapen."
"I see," Quinn laughed; the irony of it all. She wanted to bring up that her, too, had a horrible dream, but thought her sister was inundated enough. "I'll let you go." She had reached the doorway when Daria stopped her.
"I'm sorry, Quinn. I treated you –"
"Like I treated you, we're even."
"No!" Daria forcefully reacted, shocking Quinn at how passionate she had become suddenly. "If you and I are constantly evening things between us, we will ensue a war that surpasses the one mom always participates in with Rita and Amy. I don't want us to be like that."
Quinn leaned against the frame and reviewed what Daria had said, her expression pensive. Quinn moved and hugged Daria tightly then retreated back to her spot. "Clean slate, starting now." Daria smiled those rare half smirks. Quinn left, but returned moments later. "You know, there is someone else who you really should reconcile with," the Pepperhill student hinted.
"I know," Daria agreed. Quinn dismissed herself, leaving Daria to map out her next course of action . . . seeing Jane.
-Daria-
The door to the Lane house slowly revealed the second youngest inhabitant, Trent. "Uh, would you like to come in?" The question had a tone of uncertainty and sincerity that compelled Daria to trust her instinct that it was safe to enter. Daria was dressed in a patterned black and white, skin-tight t-shirt and jeans with gaping holes at the knees. She was donning her traditional army black boots. Daria clamored up the steps and when outside Jane's room her feet adhered to the floor with determination greater than her will.
She wished Jane had been bustling about power-drilling so that Daria may have an excuse to leave. Unfortunately, that was the very opposite. Jane was distantly painting, peacefully in her own cave.
'I could turn around now and save everyone the pain of trudging through this unwanted kamikaze mission.' Daria nodded her head in agreement then shook her head. 'I have to apologize, at least. Jane deserves that much.'
Daria knocked on the door lightly, wishing that Jane would have loss her hearing and for that matter, her sight, as well. But, she didn't. Jane lifted her concentration from her painting to Daria. "Hey," she answered lowly.
"We need to talk," Daria said flatly.
"Oh," Jane mused, her tone sour and spiced with hurt.
Daria began thinking of more painful scenarios that she would happily accept rather than face Jane. The best friends paused and took into account the others' presence. The down-and-out artist put aside her paints and crossed her arms. They knew what had to be done, yet neither could place themselves to start the conversation.
Daria groaned. "I'm sorry," she blurted out.
Typical cut-to-the-chase Daria, Jane thought. "I know," Jane replied. Daria moved to the computer desk and leaned against it for support, both physical and moral.
Jane grazed the paint spattered carpet with her socks. It was unsettlingly quiet. "So, what now?" Jane posed. The question didn't require further elaboration; Daria knew what Jane was insinuating.
"I'm not sure. I – we can't go back to how things had been. I'm still trying to figure myself out . . . again." Daria could feel herself want to cry. The Raft student hadn't thought much of the affects of the accident until standing in Jane's room and understanding that as a result of the vehicle collision her friendship had been vaporized. For a split second she wanted to yell at the man who had incited the car crash and commenced the series of events that led up to this moment. But, Daria knew she had no way of contacting him – he died in the car crash. What was the point? She couldn't yell at the others, for they were victims, too. So, nearly two months later and she was facing the possibility of losing her only best friend.
In Campbell's theory, of any story, the main character must cross a threshold that his action taken there would undeniably lay the brick path to the resolution. Daria was struck by the words of her sister, a resource she was surprised to have called upon. Clean Slate.
Daria stretched her hand out. Jane scrutinized the suspicious gesture, but complied anyway. "Hi, I'm Daria. I relocated here a few years ago. I'm attending Raft as a professional writing major."
Jane chortled, the moment was priceless. Shaking Daria's hand fervently, she corresponded," I'm Jane Lane, the Jane Lane, to be exact. I'm also a starving artist at BFAC. What a coincidence that we live in practically the same college town."
"Yeah."
"Do you like pizza?" Jane queried. By now, the artist had picked up her brush and palate.
"Yeah, the greaser the better," Daria remarked.
"Okay then, chica. If our schedules click maybe we could grab a slice." There was a twinkle in Jane's eyes that gave the illusion of crying . . . or maybe it was the other way around.
"Jane Lane, you got yourself a deal." The two friends took in one more second of remembrance then Daria left. No goodbyes, nothing more.
Outside Jane's room, Daria nearly slammed into Trent. The musician chuckled at the shades of red that Daria illuminated having almost made physical contact with an old crush. Trent stuck out his hand nonchalantly. "Hey, I'm Jane's older brother, Trent." When Daria hesitated, Trent smirked, "It's clean."
Daria nodded and accepted the proffered hand. "Hi." Again, nothing more was spoken and Daria moved to leave Casa Lane. Watching her descend the steps, Trent could hear his sister, Jane, strike up her music to absurd volume levels, a sign that things were looking better.
"I knew you could do it," Trent commented aloud to himself. He shuffled to his bedroom, prepared to sleep the day away.
-Daria-
Jane waited with her pizza and soda patiently. Having skipped breakfast, the artist was finding it harder to refrain from devouring her food. She was relieved to finally spot her company enter Angelo's Pizza Parlor and step in line to order food. It was only a few more minutes when the BFAC graduate was joined at the booth.
"Wow, no cheese-less pizza?" Jane copped, finding her playful jab laughable. Quinn also laughed and eased into the booth. Quinn adjusted her thin framed glasses before taking a sip of her drink. The redhead had been discovered to have diminishing eyesight as of two years prior. At first the news was difficult to accept until Quinn realized that if she changed her perspective the glasses she needed to see distance would be thought as another accessory to compliment her outfits.
"It isn't pizza if it's cheese-less," Quinn sassed back, a friendly smile playing on her lips. Satisfied with the insults exchanged Jane took a large bite of her pepperoni slice. They quietly sat for a little, eating their food and sipping from their respective drinks. After finishing one piece, both women returned to the counter for a second helping.
Quinn checked her watch when they retreated to their seats. "We have about two hours before we have to be at the football stadium, we have time." Jane didn't ask, but assumed the statement was more for Quinn than herself.
"Do you think she would even notice if we neglected to attend?" Jane asked, munching mightily on her pizza. Quinn shrugged then thought more on the question.
"Yeah, plus we sat through yours."
"That's irrelevant since I went to Boston Fine Arts College. I'm an artist, and artists don't give a crap about formalities like graduation ceremonies. BFAC was finished with ceremonies early."
Quinn shot her friend a pointed look, before downing the rest of her beverage. "I'm full. Do you want to do some shopping?"
It was Jane's turn to give Quinn the same look. She sighed, "Hell, why not?"
As they moved through the rows of patrons and disposed of their trash, the women were greeted by the bright sunlight of the breezy May weather in Boston. They perused in and out of shops, lightly chatting.
Leaving a perfume boutique where Quinn had purchased some foreign fragrance, Jane shuffled beside her. "How are you and Stacy getting along in your new apartment?" Jane broached.
"We're doing great, but the apartment needs a lot of work, though," Quinn lamented. "The offer is still open to volunteer with decorating."
"Artistic Integrity," Jane answered flatly, steering them into a small art gallery.
"Oh come on, you're still upset because I shot down your idea? Sorry for not wanting my place to look like the game Twister," Quinn huffed. They stopped to gaze at an abstract painting when Quinn had a sparkling proposition. "Twenty-five buck, I'll pay you."
"A hundred," Jane countered. She wasn't naïve. She had picked up a few things having played this game before, and watching Helen.
Quinn squared her eyes to full glare power toward her friend, "Seventy-five."
"Fifty and lunch," Jane volleyed back with sophisticated smoothness.
Folding her hands over her chest, Quinn stopped so Jane's attention was refocused on to her. "Deal," she gritted, "But, I'll have you know Daria did it for free."
"College has softened her. It's a pity," Jane smirked. Quinn faltered, smiling, too. "Speaking of which, we should leave if we want to meet your folks," Jane reminded Quinn.
Jane and Daria repaired – rebuilt – their friendship from scratch. It wasn't the same, but they had accepted the conditions when they shook hands that fateful day three years ago. Quinn had attended Pepperhill College, only to return home the following year with the want to transfer closer to home. She and Stacy now shared an appointment her senior year.
Life may not have followed the course they wanted, but if nothing else they had each other.
~ End If Nothing Else
I hope everyone liked this last installment. I worked hard to make it feel like a 'Daria' ending. Please, please review. I would truly appreciate the feedback. Thanks again.