Chapter Twenty-Two
Quinn
I hung on to the front door and wondered what I should do. If someone had slipped marijuana into his pocket, then the police had finally found what they were looking for. It would not matter if he had tested clean for drugs. The searches and the possession were against him. It was a thin case, but the police would have something on him now.
"I just thought you should know," Trent said. "Owen's a big boy, he can take care of himself. It's really just a misdemeanor. He probably resisted and that's why he was taken in."
"That makes it worse, don't you think?"
"He made his own decisions," Trent said.
"Not if his roommate planned to set him up in order to take the heat off himself," I objected. "This could ruin Owen's career, at the very least his credibility. He'll probably lose his sponsors."
"But, honey, you don't have to fix it," Trent said. "You don't have to fix everyone."
"There is a huge difference between trying to help and trying to fix someone," I said. "Trust me, I know."
As if to illustrate what I had said, there was a commotion upstairs. "Just trust me," I could hear my father saying.
I waved Trent out the front door and promised I would call him someday. He left and I shut the door just before my mother flew down the stairs.
"Who was it? Was it the waitress? I didn't tip her well enough, I know I didn't," she said.
"Mom, are you okay? What are you talking about?" I had seen the wild look in her eyes before, and it froze my heart.
My father came down the stairs and caught her in his arms. "Barbara, darling, I told you that I took care of the tip. There is nothing for you to worry about. How about I call the restaurant and tell the manager what a great job the waitress did? That'll fix it," he said.
He steered her back up the stairs. My mother's worries were descending into gibberish, yet he responded with calm, soothing answers as if he could talk her out of it. I knew he had been through this dozens of times before, but it bothered me how he thought he could just brush it aside. She needed help, that was not normal, but my father was determined to fix it on his own.
When he came downstairs 10 minutes later, I was still waiting in the foyer. "What did Trent want? It sure was a surprise to see him here. Boy trouble?"
I cringed at his easy tone. "How's Mother?"
"Oh, you know how she gets. Just overtired. She'll be fine after she rests," he said. He brushed past me and headed for his office.
I followed him and stood in the doorway before he could close the door. "She just needs to rest?"
He refused to look at me. "She didn't sleep well last night. And we spent most of yesterday out running errands, so of course she's tired. Everything's fine."
"Then, can you help me?" I asked. "Or, more specifically, can you help Owen? I think he's in trouble with the police."
"Quinn, just because I'm a criminal lawyer does not mean I'm going to help every loser that gets himself in trouble."
"Owen's not a loser, you know that," I said. "His roommate was selling drugs and when neighbors started noticing, he decided to make Owen take the fall for him."
"Then if Owen's innocent, he has nothing to worry about."
"Except that he's been set up. His roommate made it look like he was the one dealing drugs. And because Owen plays video games for a living, people are more inclined to believe it. I think he really needs your help," I said.
My father took four angry paces away from me, then marched back. His face was a dark red as he pointed a finger at me. "And you think I should help him? Why should I help the man that dumped my beautiful daughter when she needed him the most? Did you know that? Owen broke up with Sienna! Can you believe that? That loser broke up with your sister. He hurt her and that made her hurt herself."
"You think that is why Sienna committed suicide?" I knew my father had always been looking for someone to blame. The hardest part of my sister's death was realizing that she did it to herself. There was no real reason for it. It had just happened.
"He just dumped her flat and left her to pick up the pieces. Can you imagine what that did to her?" my father asked. "It’s no wonder she felt so sad."
"What happened to Sienna was a tragedy," I said, "but it was no one's fault. And it had nothing to do with Owen."
"Why are you defending him?" my father yelled. He paced back and forth again. "What is it about Owen Redd that makes my daughters lose all rational thought?"
"I'm not the one acting irrationally," I said.
My father stopped sharply and turned to face me. "No? You're just running around with the man that broke your sister's heart. Have you even thought about how that looks? Do you even care what it does to your sister's memory?"
My knuckles went white as I gripped the doorframe. "Sienna cheated on Owen. Months before. She cheated on him, he caught her, and he broke up with her months before what happened at college," I said.
"Let me guess," my father said. "He told you that. Quinn, honestly, I thought you were smarter."
"I can prove it," I said. "I was in Sienna's room tonight and I remembered what her password is for her email. If you need proof, it will all be in there. You know she needed to lay everything out in black and white."
"So, you found out that she cheated and you did not say anything?"
I tried to form a response, knowing full well my father wanted to turn all of it on me. Then we both heard the muffled sob on the stairs.
"Barbara? Barbara, it's not what you think. Please, darling. It’s not at all what you think," my father called. He pushed past me and ran towards the front staircase.
"You told her? How could you? I'm her mother. How is that going to make her feel about me?" my mother cried.
"Mom? Are you okay? What are you talking about?" I called. I ran to the bottom of the stairs, but they were already gone.
I could hear her crying and my father pleading with her. He kept telling her over and over again that we were not talking about her. I knew when my mother's downswings hit, one of the worst signs was paranoia. Still, something about her reaction made me wonder. We had been talking about Sienna cheating on Owen. Why would my mother think we were talking about her? Had she cheated on my father?
I knew my father wanted privacy. He wanted to fix what was wrong with my mother and pretend like nothing had happened. Instead, I went upstairs and found him pounding on the hallway bathroom door. My mother was locked inside and sobbing.
"Quinn, go downstairs. I can handle this," my father said. He rattled the door handle hard and threw his shoulder against the wood. "Barbara, just open the door, darling."
"She's not making sense," I said. "You have to know this is a really bad sign. We have to get her to come out."
"Everything's fine, Quinn. Just go downstairs," he said.
"Mom? Tell me what's going on. Are you okay?" I called through the door.
"No, no, no, I don't want you to know. My baby, my baby, no one is ever going to look at me the same again. It’s too much. Too much," she said.
"Barbara, stop! Just stop. I'm coming in. You're fine," my father said.
There were sounds of drawers opening and slamming closed. My mother was searching for something while she muttered, "Too much, too much."
My father stopped, frozen against the solid wood of the door. "My shaving kit is in there," he said.
"Take the hinges off," I said. My father started pulling on them as I ran for the pliers I knew were in the hall closet. We pulled the hinges loose and took the door completely off the frame.
Inside, my mother was standing over the sink. She had tried to cut one wrist and blood had sprinkled all over the white porcelain sink. She had then tried to wipe up the mess with her uninjured hand and stood holding a bloody tissue.
"Barbara, no. Why?" my father asked. He sank to his knees in the hallway.
I stepped around him and took hold of my mother's injured arm. "It’s not deep. She went across, not down. Here, Mom, let me stop the bleeding. Don't worry, I'll clean up, too," I said.
"I'm worthless, don't bother. Just leave me alone. I deserve it," she sobbed.
"That's not you talking, it’s your sickness, Mom. Here, sit down on the edge of the bathtub. 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 bipolar 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 and 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 15 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 bipolar 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 bipolar 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.