Grounding Quinn

by Stephanie Campbell

  The wall is cool as I press my ear to it, listening for any activity. The only noise I hear is my own stomach growling obscenely. Crap. I hope Daniel is proud of himself, if he hadn’t interrupted my attempted drug use, I may not have the need to get up and raid the pantry. Okay, I’ll admit, I’m a little relieved that he walked in when he did. Who knows what would have happened if I actually went through with it. I’d never done it before; I don’t know how I’d react. What if I had turned all psycho and went and started another fight with Ben like I did at Grant’s party? I guess I don’t hate Daniel too much for going all parental on me.

  I pull on a pair of thick socks and a hoodie before nervously starting down the stairs. Each of my footsteps causes its own individual panic attack. For the love of God, why didn’t I just stay home last night? This is so not worth it. I pause once more before turning into the kitchen. Okay, what’s my excuse going to be? One of my girlfriends was in trouble? I’m eighteen, I shouldn’t be punished? No, neither of those will work. Why didn’t I work this out before leaving my bedroom?

  Only my parents aren’t sitting at the breakfast table like they are every Saturday morning. There is no exchange of stern faces while they discuss my punishment over champagne spiked orange juice and the newspaper. There is only Mason, shoulders hunched over a bowl of Life cereal.

  “Morning,” I say. His brow furrows, but he doesn’t look up. When he takes a bite of the soggy, whole grain mess, the milk dribbles down his chin. He wipes it with the back of his sleeve, and then stares back into the bowl.

  I start my savior, the coffee maker, and start whisking eggs for an omelet. Mason still has yet to acknowledge me. “Bacon and cheese omelet?” I offer.

  Silence.

  “Are you going to tell me what the heck is wrong with you, or are you just going to continue to ignore me?” I ask, waving a block of Sharp Cheddar.

  Wordlessly, he passes behind me to dump the rest of his cereal down the garbage disposal.

  “Mason,” I press.

  He finally spins to face me.

  “Mom left.”

  And here we go again.

  “Left? Where’d she go? Why?”

  “Because of you,” he says sharply. His eyes brim with tears.

  Mason is too young to remember my mom’s frequent ‘getaways’. While Carter and I were growing up, it was a constant thing. He has witnessed his fair share of arguing and break downs, but I don’t think he remembers first hand all of the times she has pulled this crap in the past. He has been insanely sheltered since we moved to Atlanta. He may hear them fight with me, but as far as he knows, they are happy. Mason is their last hope at having a “good” kid.

  I sigh deeply. “What do you mean, because of me?”

  His cleats slam across the tile as he stomps to the other side of the room-away from me.

  “You had to sneak out. You always have to do whatever you want, no matter what they say. Well they found out, Quinn. You’re so stupid!” he yells. His usually tiny voice is filled with fury. I am stupid. I don’t need a twelve-year-old to clue me into that fact.

  “Dad started packing up all of your stuff. He wanted to put it all out on the lawn. And you know what, you deserve it! But mom wouldn’t let him do it; she tried to stick up for you. They had a big fight all because of you!”

  I defensively fold my arms over my chest. “Look, Mason. There is stuff going on that you just don’t understand.”

  “I understand that you’re a selfish idiot. I understand that you’re a stupid liar that steals from them. You just always have to have your way! I understand that everything would be fine if you weren’t here!”

  His words bite at me like a mountain of fire ants. Still, I’m more shocked by the news that my mom actually tried to stick up for me.

  “Mom will be back,” I say. “She always comes back.”

  “No, she won’t. Dad told her never to come back.”

  I flinch slightly remembering the last time that my dad told my mom to stay gone. Mason was away at baseball camp. The parents were fighting because mom wanted to stop taking so much medicine. She said she was tired of feeling drugged all the time, and wanted to see how she did without such heavy doses. That infuriated Dad; he threatened to have her committed if she did. Carter and I were sitting at the table eating dinner while they argued. They never told us to leave. It was like they thrived on having a good audience for their drama. It wouldn’t be as fun if they were doing it behind closed doors. They needed to see us upset to make their show worthwhile. Mom was livid when Dad threatened that, and she grabbed a steak knife off of the counter. She theatrically pressed it into her stomach. I still cringe remembering the sight. Even though I now realize the amount of pressure she applied must’ve been so ridiculously minimal. She wasn’t looking to hurt herself; she was looking to get a rise out of all of us. Carter and I started to cry hysterically, and Dad told her to get out and never come back.

  She left for the night, and the next morning, the sun was shining and it was never mentioned again. Maybe that’s why I snuck out last night, even knowing I’d get caught. In the history of our house, even the worst arguments and disasters were all for show. It was hard to have a firm grasp on consequences, because they were always so fleeting.

  “Mom will be back,” I repeat.

  “She better.” 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.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Quinn

  I text him. 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 let him in? He was willing to forgive my mistakes, but I couldn’t let him. And yet, at the same time, I couldn’t fully let go of him 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 enjoying her company? Weird. How is it possible that she understands 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? Would things have turned out differently with me and him if I would’ve seen it last summer?

  Tess. Where the fuck did our friendship take such a wrong turn?

  Dad. What the hell did I expect from him? 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. She’d better hurry home, or Mason will never forgive me. I can’t believe she actually stuck up for me. 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.

  I just wanted to sleep!

  But I couldn’t shut my mind off, so I raided the Ziploc 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…

  Gripes. I just wanted a freaking nap.

  I’m laying on my bathroom floor, staring up at the ceiling. It’s freezing. I keep staring at the w
hite 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. Funny like I took some crazy 70’s drug like Ludes or whatever. So what the hell am I going to do? I know I’m a total jackwagon when it comes to life, but I’m not ready to die here. My stomach rolls and churns. I really wish I could just throw up. I do not want to kick the bucket like this. I mean, please, no note or anything? That would be the ultimate in theatrics. I pat the tufted cotton of the bathroom rug, feeling around until I grasp my cell-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 off 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 so fiercely angry at her, 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 snap the phone shut, and let the sleep overtake me.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Ben

  “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, it’s been an awkward day full of 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? She text me earlier. 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-I didn’t respond to it. I wasn’t willing to respond to her. 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. She tried to reach out and I shot her down.

  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 text me. She tried to open up. “So, if you could just give her some space for now.”

  I shut off the car. The pull to go to her is unimaginably strong, but still, I fight it. I know Sydney is right. I can’t go to her. Not now, maybe not ever.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Quinn

  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 way less than sympathetic, and more toward fiercely angry. The doctor glances up before I can close my eyes to avert attention.

  “Well, well, well! Look at those gorgeous eyes, glad to see them open!” He is 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 there, 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. Kidney’s, 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 still fairly drowsy. 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.

  “Standard procedure for attempted suicide.”

  I jerk back abruptly. “Suicide? No, I just took too many pills by accident. I just couldn’t sleep. It was an accident!”

  He 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.

  Jessie totally wasn’t covered in bits of regurgitated activated charcoal.

  Immediately following the quiet click of the door closing behind the doctor, I feel the tension rise one-thousand percent.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Dad asks, 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.

  Glib? Who the hell is he, Tom Cruise a la the Today Show?

  I crack an unintentional smile.

  In an instant he’s at my bedside, his face exploding with anger.

  “Is this humorous to you?”

  Believe me, I get that there is nothing humorous about this situation. I have to see a shrink. Everyone now thinks I tried to kill myself. My hospital gown is covered in the same black flecks as the blanket, and seriously, gag-I have the most putrid taste in my mouth.<
br />
  “No.” I shrug, and shake my head. It is maddening 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.

  His 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.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Quinn

  “Are you sure you want to go home, like to your own house?” Syd asks, “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.”