by Joey Bush
"That's not you talking, it’s your sickness, Mom. Here, sit down on the edge of the bath tub. Let me clean you up," I said. I took the first aid kit from under the sink and tore open a package of gauze. The bleeding slowed as I dabbed it away to reveal a small cut. She had not really tried to kill herself, the horizontal cut meant she was just crying out for help.
"Sick?" she asked in a small voice.
"Yes. Mom, I think you have a type of bi-polar disorder. It explains the big mood swings, the times you feel jumpy and unsettled, the talking too fast, and any inappropriate behavior that seems way outside the ordinary for you. This isn't you, it’s the sickness," I said.
"Quinn, baby, you shouldn't know. It’s too much. My baby, my baby doesn't need to know. I love you and I don't want you to look at me different," she said.
I hugged her tight. "I love you and I will always love you."
"Does she need stitches?" my father asked. He pulled himself to his feet.
"No, but she should go to the hospital," I said.
"We have something to calm her, she just needs to rest," he said. "Darling? Quinn is going to fix up your little cut and then we'll get you settled in bed. Alright?"
My mother nodded meekly. I stood up and pushed my father into the hallway. "She needs to be observed all night. This was not okay. Please tell me you know this is not okay."
"Quinn, please, I've been dealing with this a lot longer than you," my father said. "She has sleeping pills that will help calm her down and I am here. This isn't for you to worry about."
"So you won't take her to the hospital?"
"No, everything's fine. Why don't you go downstairs and get your mother some water? I'll help get her comfortable," he said.
My legs felt like jelly all the way down to the kitchen and back upstairs. I spilled part of the water when I saw the unhinged door leaning against the hallway wall. The whole incident was terrifying and it took all my concentration not to drop the water glass completely. I took deep breaths all the way down the hall to my mother's bedroom.
She was tucked into bed, sitting up wrapped in a tight hug from my father. He sat next to her and smoothed her hair as he held her. When they heard me come in the room, he stood up and took the water from me. I watched my mother take a sleeping pill, her eyes still darting back and forth wildly.
Finally, she started to calm and my father gestured for me to go downstairs. I waited for him at the foot of the staircase.
#
I waited at the bottom of the stairs for what felt like a decade. After fifteen minutes, I was sure my father had gone down the back steps and sneaked into his home office. Then finally, I heard his soft tread in the upstairs hallway.
He did not think I would be there. The tight frown on his face said he was trying to think of what he could say to send me away.
"I'm not helping Owen, Quinn. You can forget it," my father said. He marched down the stairs.
I blocked his way. "We can talk about that later. I'm not going to let you pretend that nothing just happened. She should be at a hospital now."
"Your mother is fine. You said so yourself. You saw the cut, it was superficial. She was just being dramatic and probably slipped," he said.
"How long are you going to try to deny this?"
My father pushed past me and headed towards his home office. "I'm not denying anything. I'm not the one trying to live in an imaginary video game world."
"Do not turn this around on me. I am not leaving you alone until you tell me the plan for her care. Mom needs to see a doctor. She needs help."
"She just needs to rest. Your mother gets anxious and blows things out of proportion."
"Then at least tell me why she thought we were talking about her? What is so bad that she doesn't want me to know?"
My father wrapped his arms tight across his chest. "That is none of your business. I would think after the scene your mother made wanting her privacy kept, you would not ask such a thing."
"Did she cheat on you?" The question fell heavy between us. "You know that inappropriate sexual encounters are a sign of bi-polar disorder. As are the mood swings, anxiety, and paranoia."
"Your mother does not need excuses for her behavior. She's a full grown woman and she owns what she has done," my father said. "Someday, you might understand that."
"I am glad that you worked through whatever problems you had, but you have to understand this is more than 'behavior.' She can't control it and it is wearing her down. If she doesn't get some real support, things are only going to get worse."
"She has support," my father said. "I support her, just like I've always supported you and your sister."
I saw his throat close over the mention of Sienna. My father tried hard to swallow and turned away. I caught his arm before he could head down the hallway. "You have to see the similarities between Mom and Sienna. Doesn't that scare you? Don't you want to make sure something like that never happens again?"
My father jerked back around and shook both hands at me. "I get how you are drawing parallels between the two. Of course you are more sensitive to things like this now. But that does not mean you are the only person in this family that is seeing things in the right light. You're so lost right now, you don't even know what right looks like."
I crossed my arms, but his words had already hurt me. "You can't fix her. You couldn't help Sienna. All you did was pretend everything was alright and let her keep her eyes on the perfect future. You didn't fix the problems that weighed her down every day. And you can't fix Mom either. Aren't you tired of trying on your own?"
"Who's going to help me?" My father's eyes were angry and distant. He ran his hands through his hair, ragged and helpless.
"Me. I'm in this family too. I know it’s been hard to see me with Mom and Sienna needing all of your attention, but I can help. I'm here," I said.
"You're only here because you screwed everything up at college," he said. His shoulders slumped. "And I let you. You're right. I was so busy with your mother and sister that I never saw what a mess you were getting yourself into."
"But I'm fine!" I said. "When was the last time you saw me have a tantrum, cry, hide out in my room, lose hope, or shut down? There have been plenty of opportunities lately, but I think I've weathered it all."
My father looked exhausted. The fight was finally leaving him. He leaned his back against the wall and loosened his crossed arms. "You always bounced back," he said. "Even as a little girl, you always bounced back. You know your mother marvels at you for that very reason. She told me you have a new plan already and that you're going to do it all yourself."
"First, I'm going to help you come up with a plan for Mom," I said. "You should ask Dr. Carson for a recommendation. Please, he's our family doctor. I can't believe he hasn't recommended anything before."
"He has," my father admitted. He pushed away from the wall and shuffled into the living room.
We sat down together on the couch.
He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "So, I will call Dr. Carson in the morning."
"You know that is fixing it," I said. "Helping Mom find someone to help her understand and minimize the effects of bi-polar disorder is the best way you can help her fix it."
He sat back and gave a tired smile. "That's why I like the law. It’s got gray areas, but if you set up your defense correctly, then the law falls in place neatly. There's order to it."
"Well, if you're looking for a win tonight I've got a good one for you," I said. I knew he was exhausted, but I also knew my father could never resist a case. Work had helped him get through so many of the other rough nights before.
"Alright," he said, sitting up a little straighter. "Give me the whole thing again. From tonight. What did Trent say?"
"Trent said that Owen's roommate Jasper left the party abruptly with Anya. Then, the police showed up. The last two times, they have not found anything in Owen's apartment and this time, they found marijuana on him. So, they've arrested him."
/> "Must have been a lot. Intent to sell," my father said.
"No, I think he might have resisted arrest," I said.
"He was drinking?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes. He actually got very drunk, very quickly, which was also strange. And then when he went to lay down, Anya went in and was leaning over him."
My father held up his hand. "I don't need details from an unreliable witness. I'm assuming your feelings for him are clouding your memory of that particular incident."
"Yes, but I'll be the first to admit I have no idea what I saw. She was leaning over him, and her hair was in the way. It could have been a kiss, a conversation, or anything. Whatever it was, there was plenty of time for her to plant something on him," I said.
"So you forgive Owen for whatever it was?"
It was my turn to be defensive. "Why does that matter? You hate the idea of me being with him."
"But you want me to defend him. You are obviously willing to give him the benefit of the doubt," he said.
"Innocent until proven guilty, right?"
My father scowled. "But you said he caught Sienna cheating on him. Are you sure this wasn't all some twisted form of revenge? And, it would make sense if he turned to drugs after finding out the girlfriend he dumped killed herself."
I winced at how callously my father was able to discuss it. I knew he was looking at it from a lawyer's perspective, but it was still Sienna he was talking about. "He broke up with Sienna because he wanted to be free of it. Why would he then change completely and decide to get revenge on me, of all people?"
"Alright. So, he was intoxicated and allegedly kissing another woman at the party. He is not the only one that will be affected by that line of inquiry. She'll be brought into it, and you will, as well."
I shook my head. "I don't need my feelings spared."
"So, you would be able to forgive him if the truth was not what you wanted to hear?"
"It was a mistake, and I don't see how it can break the friendship we've had for years and whatever else we have between us now." I held my breath. It felt strange to admit there was something real between Owen and me now – strange, but good.
"You two were always a pair," my father said. "It was so strange, but you two were always talking about the same things, laughing at the same jokes. I thought it showed how immature Owen was."
"And now what do you think?"
"Now, I think your sister was an amazing person for recognizing you two needed to be friends," my father said. "And, I think I need to make a few phone calls."
"I'll check in on Mom," I said.
He nodded grimly and pulled out his phone. As I headed towards the stairs, I heard him asking to speak with a lieutenant at the police precinct where Owen was most likely taken. My father had a buddy there that shared my father's interest in tough cases and golf.
"Dean, it’s been too long. Yeah, I know you miss our late night chats. Well, I've got a good list of questions if you've got the time," my father said. "Seems like a friend of my daughters’ was brought in tonight. He doesn't know it, yet but I'm on his case. Did they bring in the roommate too? No? You boys are slipping, huh. Name's Jasper Collins. You're welcome. Sure. See you in a few."
I could not help but poke my head back around the corner. "You're taking Owen's case?"
"Yes. My buddy was surprised to hear there was a roommate. Guess there's not much on paper. So, your vagabond drug dealer theory is sounding a little more plausible." My father heaved himself up from the couch.
"I guess there is one more thing you should know." I squeezed my hands together. "Owen thought maybe it was you that was harassing him. He thought you might be getting your judge contacts to sign search warrants just to get in the way."
"Why didn't I think of that?" He chuckled. "Though from the looks of things, it wouldn't have scared you off."
"He's not a drug-dealer, I swear."
"Just let me go and do my job," my father said. "And speaking of jobs, I expect to hear all about your new plan and how you are going to finance it yourself. Breakfast tomorrow. You make the pancakes and I'll listen."
"Really? You're going to help Owen?" I ran over and hugged my father tight around the neck.
I felt his tired smile against my cheek. "Like you said, I could use a win tonight. Please keep an eye on your mother. She should sleep all night, but if… I mean, it would just be nice to know that she's alright."
I held my hands up to my mouth. "No, this is wrong, isn't it? You want to stay here with Mom. You can take care of all of this in the morning. I shouldn't have pushed this on you tonight."
He patted my cheek. "I would not have slept, anyway. You know me. I would be in my office until the crack of dawn. I got used to this schedule a long time ago. It’s just part of the job."
"Thank you," I said.
My father nodded and left to join Owen at the jail.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Owen
I parked at the end of the driveway and turned the car off. Just in case anyone was looking from the house, I checked my phone. Not that I was nervous. Mr. Thomas had come to the jail the same night I was arrested. That had to mean he did not hate me as much as I always suspected.
He had reason to, though. I had done awful things. I dated Sienna for much longer than I should have. We knew it was not working, but I was too lazy to change anything. And the whole time, I was really in love with Quinn. That was a fact that was apparent to everyone else but us.
So after I got drunk, said horrible things I did not mean, and was caught kissing another woman, it was a shock that Quinn's father had come to my defense. He never said a single thing about his daughter the whole night. When he finally did mention her, there was a smile on his face I had never seen before. We looked at each other like two men waking up from a bad dream.
"Quinn's really something. I hope you know that," Mr. Thomas had said.
With that thought in mind, I grabbed the cellophane-wrapped flowers and got out of the car. My stride hitched once on the front walk, but I forced myself to the door. Mr. Thomas opened it only seconds after I knocked. He must have been watching from one of the bay windows.
"Glad to see you decided to finally join us," he said.
I winced, despite the neutral smile on his face. I was just used to having him dislike every single thing I did. "I heard that Mrs. Thomas is feeling better, but I wanted to give her these anyway," I said.
"How thoughtful."
I took a deep breath and handed Mr. Thomas a long, heavy bag. "And here's a bottle of aged whiskey for you. I was not sure what kind you drank, so I can return it if it’s not right. I want you to have something that you actually like, so please tell me."
"Owen, I'm sure it’s fine. Whiskey is great, thanks," he said.
"I want to thank you for everything you did for me. Helping me out with the arrest, clearing my record, and for giving me a second chance," I said.
"Well, don't screw it up this time." He opened the door wider and led the way into the house.
I looked around and expected Quinn to bound down the staircase or come jogging around the hall corner from the basement. "Quinn is home, right?" I asked.
"Yes, she'll be down when she's done. Some practice test. She's been studying very hard and her scores are excellent, but she insists on taking every practice test anyway," Mr. Thomas said.
"Studying?" I rubbed my chin. I had been so wrapped up in my own situation that I had completely missed a big change in Quinn's life. Here I was already screwing up the second chance I had been given.
Mr. Thomas saw the look on my face and laughed. "Don't worry. It’s a big secret. I mean, I got it out of her, but then again I am the king of cross-examinations."
"So whatever it is, Quinn is doing well?" I wanted to look around for a hidden camera. This was not the Mr. Thomas I was used to encountering.
"Yes, she's really found her way. It’s the perfect blend of her skills and her desire to make her own sched
ule and have some freedom. Plus, I think she likes the idea of all the excitement," he said.
"Excitement. Freedom?" I asked. It sounded as if Quinn was going to take off for some fantastic career and leave us all behind. Was that why Mr. Thomas was so happy? Did he know she would soon be breaking my heart?
"Exactly how I feel about it. I'm more like you. I like work I can do in my home office. I mean, sure, I have to go and visit clients in jail now and then, but mostly, I can work from here," Mr. Thomas said. He clapped me on the shoulder. "That's at least something we have in common. I even suppose your tournaments are a lot like when I go trial. All those people watching you, waiting to hear what you say."
I realized my mouth was hanging open. "Yes, except you are actually helping people."
"No need for flattery, Owen. I finally managed to read that magazine article on you. Sounds like you inspire a lot of people. Real leadership skills and all that."
It was a relief when Quinn came down the stairs. She was stunning in tight dark jeans and a black buttoned shirt. The shirt was tucked in around her tight waist and the buttons undone just enough to make my pulse jump. She had finally given up the pastels that her sister insisted were best for her complexion. Quinn looked confident, sexy, and completely aware of her effect on me.
"Oh, speaking of the home office, I hear my phone," Mr. Thomas said.
I belatedly realized I had not heard a ringer, but by then Quinn was already in my arms. Her chestnut hair fell over my arms as she tilted back and smiled up at me.
"You look so shocked. I know my father did not say anything mean, so what on earth were you two talking about?" she asked.
"I don't know, but whatever it was, we agreed on it," I said.
Quinn laughed and the sound broke my reverie. I kissed her sweet strawberry lips and the world felt right again.
"Turns out getting arrested was the best thing that ever happened to you, huh?" she asked.
"If you are not angry with me for the way I freaked out, then, yes. Your father saved my ass and now we're getting along. That is the best possible outcome. Maybe I should have gotten arrested months ago."
