Tin

by K. S. Thomas

  “Oh. Good. You’re home.” Then she lets herself in, even though she has to squeeze past me to do it.

  “All of her stuff is right there.” I point at the boxes I stacked along the wall a few days ago. Then, I walk straight for the bathroom. I don’t need to watch her take the only thing that’s left of Quinn.

  “I’m not here for her shit.”

  I stop.

  “What?”

  She nonchalantly takes a seat at my kitchen table. I guess she’s planning on staying a while.

  “I said, I’m not here to pick up Quinn’s crap. She wanted to move out, she needs to figure out how to finish what she started. Even if it will be considerably harder now that she decided to leave for California four days early.”

  I’m not sure if I’m curious or scared right now. Part of me is still leaning toward hiding out in the bathroom until she leaves. The other part of me thinks I might die in there if I go that route. I don’t know Kirsten all that well, but what I do know tells me she’s not likely to leave until after she gets what she wants.

  So, I walk back to the table and sit down across from her. “Then why are you here?”

  “To finish the shit I started.” She places her keys and purse on the table. Yeah. She’s definitely staying a while.

  “What shit exactly are you referring to?”

  She leans back into her chair, dropping her eyelids and I’m instantly unnerved. “Before I tell you anything, I need to get one thing straight. I love my sister. I would do anything for her. Anything.”

  Not feeling any better about this yet. “I had a sister. I get that. What I don’t get, is how anything you did plays into my relationship with Quinn.”

  She sighs. “Because. I’m the one who brought her here. And then, because that wasn’t enough, I brought her straight to you when I had Sophie’s birthday party at your ranch. But, in my defense, I did try to intervene the moment I saw sparks flying back and forth between the two of you.”

  I lean over the table toward her. “Kirsten, no matter what’s happening right now, I’m not sorry I met her. I’ll never be sorry. You really have nothing to feel bad about. You didn’t really even do anything.”

  She nods. “You’re right. I didn’t. Which is very unlike me. I don’t know if Quinn told you, but I’m a meddler. Major meddler. I pretty much believe I can fix everyone’s life if I can just get in there and do it myself. Which is to say, I’m going to meddle right now, so hold tight. Shit’s about to get bumpy.”

  “You know, you swear a lot for someone who looks like a human Barbie doll. You’re definitely not for ages three and up.”

  She laughs. “Really. You want to talk to me about how contradictory my appearance is to my personality? Mister inked up redneck who grunts more than he speaks, but is actually smart, kind – and, wait for it - in touch with his feelings.”

  “Point made. Get to meddling, woman.” There’s a twister slowly funneling in the pit of my stomach and it’s gradually growing into some sort of anxious excitement. Maybe I’m not as fucking lost here as I thought. What had Quinn said about her sister? Once she locks in on a target, there’s no avoiding that missile. Well, shoot away Kirsten. I’m ready to be hit.

  “I don’t know how much you know about Jackson.” Her fingers reach for her key ring and she starts moving the keys as if she’s organizing them somehow, but really she’s just sliding them around in circles. She’s nervous, too.

  “I know he hit her. And I know she killed him. In self-defense.” I kind of assumed that was the gist of it, but watching her trying to decide where to start, suddenly makes me feel like I wasn’t even close.

  “Yeah. I mean, that’s the short version I guess.” She tips her head back and forth. “The really, really short version. More like the blurb really. You know. Like on the back of a DVD?”

  I know. I don’t know why she’s rambling on about movie summaries.

  “Anyway, the more extended version started when she was fifteen. He was twenty-six.”

  The storm in my stomach rages and I feel both my fists clench up under the table. I’m pretty sure if I open my mouth to say anything right now, it won’t be good, so I shut up and just nod.

  “Quinn was friends with his baby sister who was seventeen at the time. Ashley. The two girls met through barrel racing when they were eleven, and over the years their paths kept crossing until a friendship developed. So, naturally, when she met Jackson and he started spending more time with the girls, no one really thought anything of it. He was a roper. And with the girls getting older and participating at bigger events, more often than not, they were all at the same ones.” She sets down the keys again and lays her hands flat on the table. “We just, we never suspected anything inappropriate was happening. We knew the family. Our parents were friends. Jackson seemed like a good older brother who was just looking out for his little sister and her friend. I mean, we actually appreciated how much he watched over them at these events. You have to understand, men like Jackson have a way of hiding in plain sight, using their charm and permanent smile to cover up the beast that lives below. We had no idea.” She shakes her head and the guilt is brimming in her eyes. “Wasn’t until she was eighteen and moved in with him that we found out they’d been dating the entire time. She insisted they never slept together until she was legal, but we all knew that was bullshit. The second she turned of age, everything shifted. Suddenly he made no secret of his claim on her. It was almost like he was rubbing it in, that he’d stolen her right out from under our noses. And she was so young and so in love, she didn’t even see it.”

  “Was he already hitting her?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I don’t need any more reasons to despise the man. No. Not man. Perverted piece of shit.

  “Yes. I think so. She wouldn’t ever admit it, but she’d turn up with bruises and broken bones and blame it on some accident while riding or working horses. At one point my parents were ready to sell her mare because of it, but she begged them not to. After that, she got better at hiding her injuries. Even later during her trial, she refused to go into much detail. Her stupid ass pride just wouldn’t let her. But you’ve seen the marks. And I’m sure you’ve noticed how her left arm won’t straighten completely. Or how she limps ever so slightly on days when it’s overcast. He didn’t just break her spirit. He literally broke her. Countless times.”

  “He’s dead now.” I’m reminding myself. But hearing her confirm it again wouldn’t hurt.

  “Yeah. He’s dead.” She wipes her eyes delicately with the tips of her fingers, careful not to wipe away any of her perfect make up. “But she’s still not free of him. Some days I’ve wondered if he killed her before he went. If maybe the Quinn I see is just a ghost. An illusion I hang onto because I’m not capable of letting go. Because that’s all she’s been. An empty shadow of the girl she used to be. Until you. You don’t know what it’s been like, Riker. What it means to me to see her smile the way she has since she’s met you. You brought her back. You did the one thing none of us were able to do...you saved her. From him.” She clears her throat. “Now all that’s left, is to save her from herself.”

  ***

  Quinn

  It’s almost surreal being back at my parent’s house. I haven’t lived here since before I was eighteen. And even back then I felt like I was hardly ever home, but here I am. Standing in my old room. Or, what used to be my old room. My mom turned it into a guest suite somewhere along the way. She’s apologized about a million times for doing so, but honestly, the last thing I need right now is to be surrounded by all of my old crap. The only piece of my past I wish was with me is Harley, but the flight here would have been rough on him, so he’ll have to stay put with Kirsten a little while longer until I can figure things out. If I figure things out.

  “I made soup burger.” My mom stands in the doorway, smiling. “It’s still your favorite, isn’t?”

  I haven’t had soup burger since I was about eleven. And she knows that. She’s just de
sperate to see me eat something. So I nod.

  “Soup burger sounds perfect, Mom.” I even force the corner of my mouth upward. “Thank you.”

  Relieved, she walks from the room and I follow her out to the kitchen, even though I have no idea how I’m going to force down even a bite. I haven’t felt like eating anything in days, and now the thought of putting anything in my mouth, let alone something that’s the equivalent of a creamy sloppy joe, makes me want to vomit. On the plus side, there’s nothing left in my system to do so with.

  “Is Devyn still coming by this afternoon?” she asks while she makes me a plate.

  “As far as I know.” I feel like I’ve been talking to her non-stop for days. Up until now she’s handled everything without me, but now that the trial is actually starting, I can’t bury my head in the sand any longer.

  “I talked to Kirsten earlier. She said she and Sophie will be here tomorrow afternoon. She wanted to be here in time for the opening statements, but she couldn’t get the flight she wanted.”

  She places the plate in front of me at the table along with a tall glass of chocolate milk. I love my mom. I love her even more for trying to bring back some sort of sense of normalcy. But then I kinda hate myself for making her revert to a time when I still wore pigtails and thought boys were gross to accomplish that.

  “I told Kirsten she didn’t need to come at all. I wish she wasn’t putting Sophie through the rigmarole of all of this. Taking her out of her normal routine. And making her sit in the middle of all of this crap right when her school year is starting. It sucks. At this rate the girl is going to grow up thinking I ruin everything.” My eyes keep bouncing back and forth between the creamy ground beef mess on a bun and my glass of chocolate milk. I can’t decide which to tackle first.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course she’s coming. We’re all coming.” My mom pulls out her chair with a little too much force and determination, causing her to hit the table and nearly knock over my milk. I catch it just in time.

  “Mom.” But she won’t meet my gaze. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I am so sick of everyone’s life being put on hold on account of mine. And this time, you really don’t have to be present. There will be limited testimony. Most of the evidence was already submitted during the discovery process. Now, I just need to show up. Go through the motions and wait for them to tell me how much I owe. You all dropping everything to sit through the tedious trial with me won’t be helping anyone. Least of all you.”

  Finally she takes her seat, but it’s like she completely tuned out the last thirty seconds when she declares a simple, “Eat.”

  I don’t argue with her. I just scoop up the bun and whatever is willing to stay in it as I lift it to my mouth and take a hearty bite. With everything I’m putting her through, the least I can do is deal with a bout of nausea.

  “Thank you.” She sighs, resting her chin on her hand. “You’re scaring me, you know? More than usual. And between you and me, that’s quite an accomplishment.”

  I gulp down some milk. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. Saying I’m sorry doesn’t even begin to cover anything anymore and I feel like a broken record every time I utter those hollow words, but they’re all I’ve got, so I say them anyway.

  “What happened in North Carolina? Kirsten won’t tell me, which makes me think it’s horrible. Is it horrible? Because you’re not eating or sleeping...and you’re...giving up. And I don’t understand. Please, help me understand.”

  I take one last bite, mostly to buy myself some more time, but then I push the plate away. “I’m not giving up. I’m just...giving in.” But I can hear myself. My monotone voice. I sound defeated.

  “But why? You’ve come through so much. Why just stop fighting now when you’re so close to getting through to the other side?” I can tell by the way she keeps wiping the corners of her mouth that she’s trying not to cry. It’s her thing. Her telltale gesture that the emotions are getting to her.

  “Because, Mom. There is no other side.” And that’s the ugliest part of it all. I’m twenty-two. My life should just be getting started, but the reality is, some things are already over before they ever began.

  “How can you say that? Of course there is. There is always light in the dark. Always something to hope for.” Her voice cracks and I loathe myself a little more.

  “I met someone. In North Carolina. That’s what happened, Mom.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I fell in love. And then, I lied to him so he would let me go.”

  Her eyes widen. “Why?”

  “Because. It was the right thing to do. Look at everything I’ve cost you and Dad. Everything Kirsten has had to do for me. You guys have to love me. Riker doesn’t. And he shouldn’t. Not when I would end up taking more than I could ever give him.”

  She stands from her chair and hurries over to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and kissing me repeatedly over my hair. “You are such a foolish girl.” She clasps my face in both of her hands. “You give more to all of us than you could possibly imagine. Your strength and courage inspire me every single day. And not just because you faced your own demons and waged your own war, but because you took that experience and you learned how to fight for others. No mother has ever been prouder than I am of you. Maybe I have to love you, because you’re my daughter Quinn, but that doesn’t mean I have to like you. Or admire you. Or be in awe of you. Those things I feel because of what you do. Not because of who you are.”

  She crouches down beside me, still holding onto my face. “If this Riker person has a chance to see even half of what I see when I look at you, he already knows how much you have to offer. Even if you don’t.”

  I want to shake my head. Want to tell her she doesn’t understand. But I can’t do either without bursting into tears. So I just suck it up and nod. “You’d like him, Mom. You guys think a lot alike.” I smile. But I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything anymore. Only it’s different now. Before when I felt nothing, it felt empty, like a void tin shell of myself. Now when I feel nothing, everything seems tight, like I might crack and crumble at any given moment. I’m scared to think. Scared to focus my eyes on any one thing for too long. Scared to make any sudden moves. It’s strange. And exhausting. This new, not feeling.

  Slowly, she stands up again, releasing my face, but not until after she places one more kiss on the top of my head. “Well, I really hope I get to meet him someday.”

  I should say ‘me too’ but I don’t hope that at all. I hope he does what he said he would and never comes after me again. Because I won’t have it in me to lie to him again.

  Thankfully, my mother isn’t waiting for an answer. She’s back over by the stove, putting up the leftovers while I pick at the food still on my plate. I had three decent bites, but there’s still too much here for me to just toss, and if I wrap it up my mom will notice I didn’t eat enough and the whole cycle of worry will start all over again.

  Then, because the fates are feeling generous today, the doorbell rings announcing Devyn and my easy out from finishing what’s left of my heaping portion of soup burger.

  “I’ll get it.” I rush out of the kitchen before my mother can intercept and tell me to sit back down at the table.

  “You look like shit.” Devyn walks past me into the house.

  “Thanks. You look pretty fucking tired yourself.” I follow her into the formal living room. Devyn’s been to this house often enough to know her way around.

  My mom pops in from the adjoining kitchen. “Hi, hon. Coffee?”

  Devyn smiles at my mom with a genuine sense of gratitude. “That would be amazing, Julie. Thank you.”

  She doesn’t bother asking me if I want anything before she disappears again, probably because she’s avoiding hearing a no. This way she can just bring me whatever she wants.

  “I’m serious, Quinn. You look like death warmed over. You can’t show up to court like this tomorrow. You need sleep. And body fat.”

&nb
sp; I plop down on the couch and wait for her to do the same. “What difference does it make what I look like? Besides, last go around looking too healthy and strong bit me in the ass as well.”

  She snorts. “Yeah, well, looking like a strung out drug addict definitely isn’t a usable alternative.”

  “I’ll see about getting a face mask and body suit for tomorrow then.” My gaze drops down to my lap, annoyed. Then I notice my bony knee poking through my jeans and can’t help but wonder if I really appear to be decaying at a rapid pace.

  My mom comes back into the room boasting a large tray of coffee and baked goods. Clearly she’s on a mission to fatten me up as well. It’s not like I’ve dropped a ton of weight in the last week. I just didn’t have that much extra to lose.

  “Here we go, girls. I’ll get out of your way so you can get to work, but if you need anything, just holler.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I smile again, this time for real. She blinks her eyes in a silent ‘your welcome’ then scurries from the room again.

  Devyn starts to pull out file after file from her briefcase. “She’s worried about you. Everyone is. I’ve even been getting calls from your dad.”

  My dad’s not a talker. If he’s making the effort to pick up a phone, things are serious. “I’m trying, okay. I’m here. I’m conscious. It’s all I’ve got.”

  She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “Let’s get you more.”

  Then she dives right in and doesn’t let up again until its pitch black out and she’s certain I’m fully prepared for the battle ahead. She was the same way last time around. Even with a guilty verdict, things would have been so much worse if it hadn’t been for Devyn. And it’s no secret why. Devyn is a survivor of domestic abuse herself, but her mother wasn’t so lucky. And she would defend me to the death for doing what I did, because there isn’t a day that goes by she doesn’t wish her mother had done the exact same thing I did.