“Mom will be back,” I repeat.
“She better be.” The glass of the back door threatens to shatter from the slam behind Mason.
I’ve lost my appetite. I want to go back to sleep.
I texted Ben. Over two hours ago. Can we talk? was all it said. I’m assuming his silence is a negative. I don’t even know what I wanted to talk about. My mind just wouldn’t shut off. I just wanted to sleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking. About everything, everyone.
Ben. My sweet Ben. How did I fuck it up with him so badly? He made me feel things I didn’t deserve to feel, and I drove him away because of it. Why couldn’t I just open up to him? He was willing to forgive my mistakes, but I wouldn’t let him. And yet, at the same time, I can’t stop wanting him to fight for me either. Letting Ben fall in love with me was my biggest mistake yet.
Mark. I still feel queasy when I think about him. In a long list of regrets, I’m positive that he will forever be my greatest one. There aren’t words to accurately describe how disgusting I feel when I remember the feeling of his skin pressed so closely against mine.
Shayna. How the hell did I end up so out of my mind that I was not only talking to her, but actually starting to like her? Weird. How is it possible that she seemed to understand me more than any of my friends?
Daniel. He used to look at me like a horny Labrador about to mount a Shih-tzu, but last night his eyes were completely different. They were sad and sincere, and I knew I could’ve told him everything, and it wouldn’t change the way he felt about me. How did it take me so long to realize that he’s actually a decent guy? Would things have turned out differently with me and him if I had seen it last summer?
Tessa. Where the fuck did our friendship take such a wrong turn?
Dad. How is that after eighteen-years of dysfunction that I even give a crap what he thinks of me? He is cheating on my mom, and yet, on some level, I still want his approval.
Mom. I can’t believe she actually stuck up for me with Dad. She has never taken my side. Ever. Running away when things get too hard, letting someone get close just for a moment, before shutting them out. Abusing meds. No wonder she stuck up for me, and holy shit, I am my mother. But she’d better hurry home, or Mason will never forgive me.
All I wanted to do was sleep, but my mind wouldn’t shut off, so I raided the bag of medicinal trail-mix I had pilfered from my mom. I took two of something that after thirty minutes didn’t do a damn thing. So I took a few more of something else … and then I kind of lost track. And now…
I’m lying on my bathroom floor, staring up at the ceiling. It’s freezing. I keep staring at the white air vent, willing the heater to come on. Unfortunately, it hasn’t worked yet. I manage to cover myself up with a large bath towel. The noisy rumbling of my stomach has given way to the overwhelming feeling that something is seriously wrong.
A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead. Odd, because I’m shivering. My insides ache with tightly wound, complex knots that Boy Scouts would be proud of, and my head is set to the agitate cycle. I feel really weird, and not in a fun way. So, what the hell am I going to do? My stomach rolls and churns. I really wish I could just throw up. I know I’m a total jackwagon when it comes to life, but I’m not ready to die here. I pat the tufted cotton of the bathroom rug, feeling around until I grasp my phone. Once I hit the speed dial, I bring it as close to my face as I can manage.
It rings and rings and I’m terrified it’s going to go to voicemail.
Shit, please pick up, I don’t have anyone else to call. Ring…
“Hola! Sydney’s phone, Tess here.” The spitefully perky voice yells. Bloody hell. I’m so heavy-eyed now. It’s about damn time, right?
“Tess, its Quinn. I need to talk to Syd.” I spit out as quickly as I can. My eyes are fighting a losing battle with staying open. I allow them to close, hoping I don’t doze off before I finish the call.
“Oh, I’m sorry, what? I can’t understand your tweak-speak. Yeah, I heard what you and Shayna were up to last night. I see why Ben likes you – you’re just keepin’ it classy, huh Quinn?”
How does she even know about that? I’m really angry, but my exhaustion outweighs my ability for snark.
“It’s an emergency, Tess. I need to talk to Sydney.”
I’m not sure how I manage to communicate to Syd what I need, but as soon as I hear: “I’ll be right there,” I toss the phone to the side and let the sleep overtake me.
“Hang on, Pop,” I say. I replace the hammer I’ve been gripping all day with my ringing cell phone. The phone number isn’t one that I recognize, but I’ve been itching to take a break for hours. Dad and I have been building a shed in the backyard all day. But more than that, he’s been asking me awkward questions about my future that I don’t want to answer right now. I’ve sent off a few applications and essays, but I’m still not certain where I want to end up. This has been a crazy year. I promised Dad I would have it figured out by the first of January.
“Hello?”
“Ben? Hey, it’s Sydney.” Shit. If this is about turning down Tessa last night, I really don’t want to get into it. I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. Sydney is nice enough, but I should’ve just let it go to voicemail.
“Hey, Syd. What’s up?” The line is silent for a minute, “You still there?”
“Yeah, I just…”
“Look Syd, if this is about last night with me and Tessa, I’m—”
“Huh? No, this has nothing to do with that.”
I kick at the soft dirt with the tip of my shoe. “Okay, what’s going on then?”
Her voice is hushed and serious. “Yeah, look, before I say anything, just know that she’s okay, I promise.”
My stomach drops. I cover the phone with my hand. “I’ll be back, Pop,” I say to my dad.
I race around the side of the house, and sit down on the front porch. The sound of my nervous heart beating roars in my ears.
“What happened?” Jesus, do I even want to know? Quinn texted me earlier but I didn’t respond. I was wrapped up in helping my dad, and even though I had wanted to hear from her for so long, it just caught me off guard. Shit.
“Quinn … well … she kind of overdosed on some medicine.” Without a conscious thought, I jump up and jog through the house, grabbing my wallet and keys.
My vision is blurry. “What the hell? Are you being serious? Where is she?”
“She’s at Memorial. I think they are going to keep her for a couple of days. She really is okay though.” Sydney assures me.
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
My hair is sweaty and my hands are caked with dirt, but none of those things matter. My car is already started and I’m pulling away from the house before she responds.
“No, don’t. I mean, I really thought you should know what is going on, but I’m not sure Quinn feels the same way. Anyway, she isn’t even awake yet. She wouldn’t even know you were there.”
My knuckles have turned white from my intense grip on the steering wheel. She texted me. She tried to reach out and I shot her down with my silence.
“So, if you could just give her some space for now.” Sydney continues.
I shut off the car. The pull to go and be with Quinn is unimaginably strong, but still, I fight it. I know Sydney is right. I can’t go to her. Not now, maybe not ever. She’s not mine to save anymore.
In my dream, I’m Jessie from Saved by the Bell. (Yeah, I watch the reruns on Saturday morning – don’t judge me.) I’ve got a rockin’ oversized sweat shirt, and rad little puffy black headband. I just need my pills. I neeeeed them. But Zac is there with his perfectly coifed hair, and he cares too much about me to let me have them. Even though I’m so excited! I’m so, so scared!
Suck on that one, Freud.
Unfortunately when I open my eyes, there is no best-guy-friend in a bright, geometric patterned sweater to comfort me. Instead, all I get is a doctor frantically writing on his clipboard and my dad looking anything but
sympathetic. The doctor glances up before I can close my eyes and pretend to still be asleep.
“Well, well, well! Look at those gorgeous eyes, glad to see them open!” He’s an older man, probably in his sixties. His eyes are friendly, and his palm is warm when he pats mine. I start to return the smile, but then I see my dad’s ferocious glare over his shoulder.
“You are very lucky, Miss MacPherson. You gave your family quite the scare,” Doc says. I doubt that very seriously. He flips the chart closed. “But, everything looks real good. Kidneys, liver, no damage.” The machine that controls my IV medication starts beeping and he walks over to my side to adjust it. “You’re likely to still be fairly drowsy. And we’re going to go ahead and keep you for a couple days for an evaluation and a psych consult—”
“Wait, what? A psych consult? Why?” I choke out.
“Don’t worry, it’s standard procedure for an attempted suicide.”
I jerk back abruptly. “Suicide? No, I couldn’t sleep and I just took too many pills by accident!”
The doctor nods understandingly, but clearly not believing me.
“In any case, it’s just the way we do things. You can discuss it with our staff psychiatrist, Claire. Get some rest and someone will be in to check on you after dinner.” He pats my knee that is covered by a rough blue blanket.
Immediately following the quiet click of the door closing behind the doctor, I feel the tension rise one-thousand per cent.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Dad asks me through tight lips.
My gaze falls to my hands, my gorgeous Pompeii Purple nail polish is regrettably chipped.
“Sorry,” I mumble. With great effort, I hold back from adding, but aren’t we just glad that I’m okay?
“Christ, Quinn. For one second could you stop being so damn glib?” Dad fumes.
I crack an unintentional smile.
In an instant he’s at my bedside, his face exploding with anger.
“Do you think that this is funny?”
Believe me, I get that there is nothing funny about this situation. I have to see a shrink. Everyone thinks I tried to kill myself. My hospital gown is covered in the same blue flecks as the horrible blanket, and seriously, gag, I have the most putrid taste in my mouth.
“No.” I shrug, and shake my head. I can’t believe this is what my life has turned into.
“Then what the hell is going on with you? Your mother and I have given you everything in the world.”
Except all of the things that matter to me, all of those elusive things I want so desperately: Stability, unconditional love…
My head starts to pound again and my eyelids weigh as much as an eighteen-wheeler. I want to take a nap, but Dad’s not done.
“You have no idea how good you have it, Quinn.” He shakes his head in disgust at me. I’m not sure it is possible to feel any lower than I do at this moment. “And look what you pull. You’re dishonest, and a thief. We didn’t raise you to be like this. Look how your brothers have turned out, what is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how badly you have hurt your mother?”
My shoulders tighten from the anger slowly creeping back over them. I will myself to relax, to not let him get to me. It’s not working.
His eyes blaze into mine. “So how long have you been stealing your mother’s pills?”
My mouth forms a tight line, knowing that once I say the words running through my head, I won’t be able to ever take them back.
“I don’t know, probably about as long as you have been fucking our next door neighbor?” I challenge.
Dad’s eyes threaten to burst right out of his smug face. There is no denial, no argument. Nothing. He soundlessly, cowardly, backs out of the room.
Check and Mate.
“Are you sure you want to go home, like, to your own house?” Syd asks, as we’re packing my bag up in my hospital room, “Because I’ve already talked to my dad. He said you’re more than welcome to stay with us for as long as you want to.”
She pushes her long, champagne colored hair out of her face. I wish I felt half as vibrant as she looks. I mean seriously, straight out of a Neutrogena commercial. Her mom is dead. Her ex-boyfriend beat the hell out of her. But Sydney’s sitting here beaming. I want that kind of peace.
“No, it’s okay, really. I need to get home. I need Mason to see that I’m all right.”
“Are you positive? We can get bunkbeds!” she says, with a snort of laughter.
“Positive. I’ll be fine. All the drama in my house blows over eventually, even this will.” I silently hope that it’s the truth. At least my mom is back home, just like I knew she would be.
“I’m surprised they’re releasing you so quick,” Sydney says.
I laugh lightly. “Why, because you think I’m a total nutter?”
“No, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know, Syd. I’m messing with you. I do have to see the hospital shrink for a few more weeks… I guess that won’t be so bad, right?” This must be what people are talking about when they say they’re being “painfully honest”. It makes me physically ache to be this weak and exposed right now.
“No, totally not!” She shifts her weight uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. “I had no idea you were so miserable, Quinn.”
I clear my throat. “No one did, really. I’m not even sure I did. It’s just, when I screwed up my relationship with Ben, everything else just kind of started to unravel, too.” I mentally shrug. “But things weren’t all that great to begin with.”
“You could have told me.”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t. I still can’t tell you everything. I just don’t know how to do that – to open up like that. But I swear I wasn’t trying to kill myself.” I make an extra effort to sound reassuring.
Her blonde head bobs softly. “I understand.” And I know she really does. “I’m headed to the gym after this, want to join me?”
“Uh, I think I’ll pass this time.”
“Okay, but think about coming more, it might help. And I’d really like to have you around like it used to be.”
“Sure, I’ll think about it.”
“Hey, Quinn, I don’t want you to be mad at me, but I think that you should know. I called Ben when they first admitted you. I know it wasn’t my place, but I just thought— Well, he’s just been so worried about you.”
My throat tightens. After all of these months, I still haven’t cried over Ben. I’m not sure what kind of robo-freak that makes me, but the tears just won’t fall. And the thought of him knowing what a complete loser I am leaves me feeling broken and ashamed. I’m fully aware that I never deserved him in the first place, and now that he knows about this little stunt, it pretty much ensures he’ll never look at me through rose-colored glasses again. Maybe that’s a good thing. That’s what I wanted, right? For him to be able to see me for who I really am and move on?
“Are you totally pissed?” Syd asks, anxiously.
My eyes barely mist over, but I blot them on my sleeve. “No, no, it’s okay, I understand.”
“He really does love you, you know?” she says.
I stand up and grab my duffle bag. I’m so ready to get out of here.
“It doesn’t matter, Syd. If Ben loves me, then he really shouldn’t. I’m so not right for him, he needs to move on. Anyway, let’s just get out of here.” I survey the room one last time to make sure that I haven’t forgotten anything.
“When we love a person, we accept him or her exactly as is: the lovely with the unlovely, the strong along with the fearful, the true mixed with the façade,” Sydney recites.
I pause at the door and glance over my shoulder at her.
“Who said that?” I ask, wanting her to cite to source of her bullshit.
She cracks a smile. “Mr. Rogers.”
And with that, I lose it. I collapse to the linoleum floor in an unstoppable stream of both laughter and tears.
Finally, finally the tears fall.
My dad allowed me back into the house – most likely because he’s scared shitless of me ever since the revelation that I know about him and Mena. We’ve never discussed it, but he’s made a steady habit of leaving the room if I’m in it, and neither of us can manage any eye contact. I’m not thrilled to be here, but where else am I going to go? I need to finish school, and actually make a plan for what to do after I graduate. And realistically, this is how things are done in our family. Things blow up, we pretend that they don’t exist. We bury feelings. We conceal truths. I’ve come to realize that sometimes people and things just don’t change. I certainly can’t expect my dad to. Not now. Do I wish that my parents were different? Absolutely. Do I expect them to be? Not anymore.
Mom has been on a cheery streak – baking and wrapping gifts. Mason is almost talking to me again. I guess it’s the best I can hope for right now, even though he still blames me for all of the dysfunction in our lives. Everything is so normal, or normal for us that is. I try to squelch the voice telling me that it is just a matter of time before everything goes to hell again.
Still, despite knowing that it is one-hundred per cent inevitable that shit will hit the fan again, life goes on. School is out for Winter break, and Carter is home from Stanford.
I’ve been home alone all evening. Mom, Dad and Mason are out finishing their Christmas shopping and Carter is out somewhere, most likely chasing a piece of holiday ass.
Me? I’m curled up on the sofa in footie pajamas, waiting for the timer in the kitchen to go off so I can delve into the pudding I’m baking. I’m reading some book about a girl trapped in a love triangle between two supernatural beings, and wishing that that was my biggest problem.
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