Shelter for Quinn

by Susan Stoker

  She pulled into the grocery store and cursed when it seemed as if everyone and their brother had the bright idea to go shopping after work today. She had to park at the back of the lot and when she was walking to the entrance, she overheard a kid asking his mom what was wrong with “that lady’s face.”

  Ignoring them, she walked quickly into the store and straight to the deli department. She took about two seconds to decide which tub of potato salad to get. She got in line at the twelve-items-or-less checkout and tapped her foot impatiently as the woman in front of her got out her checkbook.

  Who in the world still wrote checks in today’s day and age?

  As she was waiting, Quinn happened to look to her right, and she saw two men in line at the register next to hers. They were younger than her, probably twenty-one or twenty-two. They were staring, and not even trying to hide it.

  When she accidentally caught one of their eyes, he nudged his friend and whispered something to him.

  The other guy laughed and shook his head.

  Quinn sighed and turned her head away and prayed the cashier would just hurry up and process the lady’s stupid check.

  She couldn’t hear what they’d originally said, but she did hear the next comments.

  “Bet she’s a virgin.”

  “Of course she is. Who would be able to stomach looking at that while they fucked her?”

  Quinn wanted to turn to the guys and tell them that her boyfriend would, thank you very much. And he had no problem with her birthmark, and that he’d made her come twice the night before. But instead, she tried to ignore them.

  As sometimes happened, when assholes didn’t get the rise they were looking for out of her, they started talking louder and being even more obnoxious.

  “It looks like a jellyfish attached itself to her face and neck.”

  “Maybe it’s a herpes outbreak,” the other guy quipped.

  “Cut it out!” the old lady in front of her ordered as she waited for her check to clear. “You should be ashamed of yourselves,” she scolded the men.

  Quinn smiled weakly at the woman.

  Then she went on. “Don’t you know those things are contagious? That if she got irritated enough and reached out and touched you, you could end up looking like her too?”

  Quinn could only stare at the woman in disbelief.

  “No shit?” one of the men asked.

  “Stay away from us,” the other one ordered.

  It wasn’t as if she was doing anything other than just standing there. Just to be annoying, she took a quick step toward the men as if she was going to come near them, but didn’t actually step out of her line.

  As she could’ve predicted, the men leaped sideways as if she’d brandished a knife or something at them. Rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation, Quinn turned her attention back to the woman in front of her.

  Luckily, the men in the other line moved forward to pay for their stuff, and the old woman in front of her finally had her check cleared and she grabbed her bags and hurried off as if just being in the same vicinity as Quinn would infect her in some way.

  Quinn didn’t glance at the cashier, knowing she couldn’t stand even one more disapproving look right now.

  The lady scanned her potato salad and Quinn handed over a ten-dollar bill.

  When the cashier handed back her change, she said softly, “Don’t listen to them. They’re just idiots. There’s nothing wrong with your face that a little makeup couldn’t fix.”

  Quinn nodded. She knew the lady was trying to help, but telling her all she had to do was cover herself with a bunch of makeup wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear.

  She took her change and threw it in her purse, not bothering to put it back in her wallet. She grabbed the bag with the potato salad and left the store as if the hounds of Hell were after her. She didn’t see the two men who had been staring at her, thank goodness.

  By the time she arrived at John’s house, Quinn wasn’t in the mood to do anything other than put on pajamas, eat junk for dinner, and crawl into bed and read.

  She walked into the house and the first thing John said was, “You’re late.”

  Without a word, Quinn dropped the bag with the potato salad on the kitchen counter and went straight to the bedroom. She walked into the bathroom, shut and locked the door, and sat on the toilet with her head in her hands.

  She didn’t have time to break down. She had to go pretend to be happy and congenial to John’s friends. But she was peopled out. She didn’t want to see or talk to anyone…John included.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Quinn? Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” she called out. “Just washing my face.”

  “Okay. We need to leave as soon as possible. We’re already running late. Taco texted and said that Jen had everything planned out to be on the table right at six-fifteen.”

  Having the uncharitable thought that if Jen had planned everything that rigidly, then maybe she shouldn’t be dating a firefighter, Quinn got up off the toilet and bent over the sink. Lord knew John had a lot of really good qualities, but a regular schedule wasn’t one of them. He kept a handheld radio on at all times, even when he wasn’t on duty, just in case there was a big fire and the station needed backup. There had been a couple of times when they were hanging out that he’d jumped up and left when a call came in.

  She knew it was just part of who John was…he wanted to help. She couldn’t fault him for it. Well…maybe a little. When she wanted to spend time with him. When she wanted to be the focus of whatever they were doing. Quinn wondered for the first time what would happen if the stupid tones went off when they were in the middle of making love…would he leap up and go even then?

  Sighing, knowing she was just feeling bitchy and she really didn’t care that he left when he was needed, Quinn quickly washed her face. She leaned forward with her hands on the counter and examined her birthmark. Was it getting darker? Was that one little spot the beginning of a nodule? She’d seen pictures of people with port-wine stains who were covered with the little bubble-like nodules. It was horrifying and scary. She knew the longer she went without getting laser therapy, the better the chance they’d start to form on her own skin.

  Shuddering, she took a deep breath and unlocked and opened the bathroom door. She thought John might be standing there, but the room was empty. She quickly took off the shirt she’d worn to work and put on a clean short-sleeve white shirt with a mason jar filled with pink flowers screen-printed on the front.

  She took off the scrub pants she usually wore to work and exchanged them for a pair of jeans. Deciding she was as presentable as she was going to get, Quinn made her way back out into the living room.

  John was standing by the door with the bag of potato salad in one hand and her purse in the other. “Ready to go?”

  She opened her mouth to say no, she wasn’t ready, because she didn’t want to go, but then John said, “I’ll drive. Got my truck back from the shop this afternoon. She’s as good as new.”

  “Great,” Quinn mumbled, following behind John.

  He either didn’t notice that she was being reticent or simply wasn’t commenting on it. He opened her door for her, and the ride to Taco’s apartment was mostly silent. When they got close, John said, “I know Jen is different from your other friends, but she’s trying.”

  Quinn swallowed the retort on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to ask what John thought she was going do…spit out the food she’d cooked? Tell her she wasn’t fitting in? She may not have clicked with the other woman, but she’d never be rude. Quinn had a lifetime of people being rude to her, she’d never do that to someone else.

  John pulled into a visitor parking space and, nodding at a big black truck, said, “Looks like Beth and Sledge are already here.”

  Quinn had been surprised to learn Beth was coming to the impromptu dinner party, as she wasn’t exactly Ms. Social, but since it was just going to be the six of them, she supposed
the other woman figured she would be fine.

  Quinn admired Beth. She had agoraphobia and sometimes had a hard time leaving her house, but with the right combination of drugs and therapy, she was getting better and better. Of course, having Sledge at her side didn’t hurt either.

  John took her hand as they walked into the complex and to the elevator. As they were riding up to the fourth floor, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  Now was a fine time for him to ask. A little too late. “I’m good.”

  He squeezed her hand. “If you get too tired, just let me know and we’ll go. I know you have to work tomorrow.”

  His words made her feel a little better. It would’ve been nice if he’d asked if she wanted to come over in the first place, but at least if she told him she wanted to leave, they could go. The last thing she wanted to think about was working in the morning.

  Taco opened the door two seconds after John knocked.

  “Hey, you guys. You’re late. Come in.”

  The song “Fuck You” by Lily Allen came to Quinn’s mind, but she simply smiled at Taco as she entered. He wasn’t trying to be a dick, it was really just that she was in a horrible mood and not sitting at home in her pajamas.

  She followed John and Taco into the other room. Beth came over and gave her a hug. “Hey, Quinn.”

  “Hi.” Quinn turned to Jen and wasn’t surprised when the other woman didn’t come forward for a welcoming hug, but gave her a little wave and a half smile instead.

  “Hi, Jen,” Quinn said.

  “Hi.”

  “Good to see you!” Sledge said and wrapped Quinn in a big hug. His arms felt comforting around her, and Quinn had to swallow hard to hold back the tears she’d been struggling against all day. If John had hugged her like this, there would’ve been no way she could’ve held back.

  Taco hugged her next and said, “Thanks for coming over. I know you were working all day and are probably tired. It means a lot to Jen and me though.”

  “You’re welcome,” Quinn said. “It’s good to see you guys.”

  “Here,” Jen said, holding out a glass of water. “You look thirsty.”

  Quinn was a bit thirsty, and she reached for the glass. But instead of handing it to her, Jen put it down on the kitchen counter and scooted it closer to Quinn.

  Mentally shrugging, Quinn picked it up and took a long swallow. She forced herself not to grimace. She wasn’t a water snob, but something about the taste was off. Maybe it was because it was warm. “Can I get some ice?” she asked Jen.

  “Of course.” She turned to Taco. “Hudson, will you get Quinn some ice?”

  “Sure, babe,” he said, and took the glass from Quinn and turned to the freezer.

  “Can we do anything to help?” Quinn asked Jen, doing her best to try to be friendly.

  “No. I’ve got it. Go sit. When Hudson told me you and John were running late, I turned the brisket down, so now we have to wait a bit more for it to be done.”

  “It smells really good,” Quinn tried again.

  “It should, I’ve been slaving over it all day.”

  All right then. Quinn took her water glass back from Taco and sipped it. The ice made it a bit more palatable, but it still tasted funny.

  “Come on,” Beth said, looping her arm with Quinn’s. “We’re just in the way here. Let’s go into the living room.”

  Letting the other woman tow her out of the kitchen area, Quinn sat on the couch next to Beth. The guys headed into a back room to look at the new workout machine that Taco had apparently just purchased.

  “What’s wrong?” Beth asked in a low voice the second they sat.

  Her question made the tears she’d been holding back spring into Quinn’s eyes. She squeezed them shut and willed herself not to cry.

  Beth didn’t push, she simply put her hand on Quinn’s leg and waited.

  When Quinn felt as if she had herself under control, she opened her eyes and smiled weakly at Beth. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day.”

  “And now here you are, instead of snuggling with Driftwood at home. I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?” Quinn asked.

  Beth shrugged and chuckled. “I don’t know. I just feel bad.”

  “I’ll be okay. It’s just been one of those days. The idiots are out in full force.”

  “If you ever want to talk, I’m here, okay?”

  “Thanks. It’s just some days are harder than others. You’d think in today’s day and age, people wouldn’t be so ignorant when it comes to my birthmark, but I’m still surprised at the level of stupidness that’s out there.”

  “Is stupidness even a word?”

  “If it’s not, it should be,” Quinn retorted.

  “Hey, I’ve been meaning to call you,” Beth told her.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I checked up on that doctor Cade told me about. I guess Driftwood talked to him about it. The vascular guy? Doctor Ballard?”

  “Oh yeah! I forgot I was going to see if you would look into his background before I decided on whether or not to go see him.”

  “Right. Well, I did, and he’s completely legit. He and his colleagues actually developed the ‘dynamic cooling device’ that everyone now uses in conjunction with the pulsed dye lasers to treat port-wine birthmarks. I guess it was super revolutionary, and now it’s what everyone does. He’s been invited to all sorts of different countries to talk about how he treats patients like you, and he’s published over three hundred articles in various scientific journals.”

  “But what do his patients say about him? What are his results?” Quinn asked. She couldn’t care less how many papers he’d written. She wanted to know how successful he was in reducing birthmarks like hers.

  “I could only find one person who was disgruntled with his results,” Beth said. “And from what I found out—and don’t ask me how I found out—he didn’t do what he was supposed to do. His appointments were too far apart and erratic. He went on a Caribbean cruise between one of the treatments and one of the things Doctor Ballard recommends is that his patients stay out of the pool and the sun. And I can see by the pictures this guy posted on his social media pages, he definitely didn’t follow that advice.”

  “Ass,” Quinn muttered.

  “Exactly. Most of his clients are babies, which is normal. It’s been proven that there’s a higher chance of the stain fading, and staying faded, the earlier treatment is started. But the before and after pictures of his adult patients are remarkable.”

  “That’s good,” Quinn said.

  “Yeah. I even looked into your insurance. Yes, this is cosmetic, but if the grants he told you about don’t work out, I think you can ask your insurance company for an exception based on your mental health and other factors. I can help you fill out the form if you want.”

  Quinn knew she should probably be upset that Beth had pried into her insurance, but she couldn’t be, not when she was helping her. And honestly, hearing that Beth approved of the doctor was pretty much the only thing she needed to know. “I’ll call and make an appointment soon.”

  “Good. And Quinn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If Driftwood can’t go with you, I will.”

  Quinn blinked in surprise. “You will?”

  “Yeah. I’m not saying it’ll be easy for me, but I know what it’s like to travel away from home for something that you know is going to be scary and could change your life. Even if it’s changing it for the better, it’s still hard.”

  Quinn pressed her lips together to try to keep herself from bursting into tears. Out of all the women who were dating the firefighters John worked with, Sophie was the one she’d say she was closest to. But knowing about Beth’s agoraphobia, and how difficult leaving the house was for her sometimes, made her offer to go with her to California huge.

  “Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

  “Yeah, I think I do.”

  “I’ll talk to John and see
what his schedule is. If he can’t go, I’ll definitely call you.”

  “Good.” Then Beth looked up toward the kitchen and lowered her voice. “Do you think she’d flip if I said I was a vegetarian?”

  A burst of laughter escaped before Quinn could control it. “I’d pay you to say it.”

  Beth smiled and rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure I could deal with the drama.”

  “True.”

  “Dinner’s ready!” Jen called from the kitchen.

  “Ready for this?” Beth whispered as she stood.

  “No,” Quinn said.

  Something was up with Quinn, but Driftwood didn’t know what. She was smiling and saying all the right things on the surface, but he could definitely feel the tension in the air.

  It had started when she’d asked what else was available to drink. Jen tensed and asked if something was wrong with the water. Quinn had said no, but that she wouldn’t mind a glass of wine or something.

  Taco hadn’t had any wine, but he had some beer. Jen had frowned when Quinn said that would be fine.

  Driftwood had tried to smooth over the awkwardness by taking a beer himself, but Jen just frowned at him too.

  The brisket was delicious and cooked to perfection. The rolls, asparagus, and salad Jen had made were also flawless. In short, there had been nothing to complain about with the food. But conversation still seemed stilted.

  Beth talked a little about the job she was currently working on, tracking down suspicious shipments in and out of the country, and Quinn shared that she’d had to start over on a case she’d spent two weeks on because it had somehow become compromised overnight.

  He hadn’t known that, and figured that was part of the reason why she seemed off.

  But it was also obvious that things between Jen and the other women weren’t actually going well either. He wasn’t an expert on women’s behavior, but even he could see that Jen spent most of the dinner talking to Taco, Sledge, and himself, and not Beth or Quinn.