Page 62 of Quiet Beautiful Things

“Not to worry,” Sierra says. “Nothing wrong with being a bit slutty from time to time.”

“But you want more times, right?” Beth asks me. “And based on the fact that he insisted on going to the city with you to meet Sierra, I’d bet he does too.” She claps and bounces on the sofa. “There’s nothing like a good old friends-with-benefits fling.”

Sierra and Beth high-five each other, which is good, because it means they didn’t pick up on the huge sigh that just escaped me.

Friends with benefits. Fling.The words bounce around inside my head as I begin to embrace the idea of it. After all, Blake and I could never be anything more. The sooner I accept that fact, the better off I’ll be. But that doesn’t mean I’m not tingling with anticipation over our impending dancing date next weekend.

“Teach me more dirty signs,” Sierra says.

Here we go. I inwardly roll my eyes. If I had a nickel for every hearing person who asks this, I’d be richer than my father. But this is my newly found sister, so I decide to give her a pass.

Beth and I—but mostly Beth—spend the next ten minutes showing her the arsenal of curse-word ASL. Like most people, Sierra is surprised that ASL has such a rich vocabulary of profanity.

By the end of the night, we’ve taught Sierra how to spell her name, signnice to meet you, and most importantly—for her anyway—how to invite a man to bed. I get the idea my new sister may be even more slutty than I was in high school. It would make sense. My limited training in psychology tells me enough to know that girls who grow up without strong father figures are more likely to seek unhealthy attention from men. So it seems the long-lost sisters both sought out attention from guys, but for very different reasons.

Sierra looks down at her phone and her smile completely disappears, being replaced by a pained grimace.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It’s my mom.” Her shoulders droop and she sinks into the couch. “Forget it. I don’t want to bring down the vibe.”

“Sierra,” Beth says. “What is it? You can tell us.”

After a long pause, and more pained stares at her phone, she says, “She drunk texted me.”

Both Beth and I look at her, confused.

“It’s something she sometimes does after… after—”

“After the bastard hits her,” Beth says, having zero filter as usual.

Sierra shrugs as if afraid to admit it.

“This is a safe place,” I sign. “You can tell us.”

She picks at the sofa. “My dad… uh, our dad—”

“Not her dad,” Beth says angrily. “She has a father. I get that the two of you are sisters, but I won’t have our dad disrespected by calling that asshole her father.”

Sierra nods. “Fair enough.”

How I love Beth right now. She could have been threatened by a new sister coming into my life. But she’s done the opposite, welcomed her with open arms. Still, she’s not going to sit by and have our close family bond diminished by a wife-beating asshole. Besides, she said exactly what I’ve been thinking for days but haven’t said.

“Grant is a captain at Chicago PD,” Sierra explains. “He worked his way up from uniformed officer to detective, sergeant, and lieutenant. And now he’s the commanding officer of his division. Mom was sure that when his role went from being out on the streets to mostly administrative, his stress would decrease and the…punishmentswould too.”

“What does she get punished for?” Beth asks.

“Bad choice of words,” Sierra says. “My mom does nothing wrong. She bends over backwards to make sure everything is right. That dinner is always ready. That his clothes are always pressed. That she keeps herself fit. When he acts the way he does, it’s because something went wrong with his day. It has nothing to do with her. But unfortunately for my mom, his promotion to Captain came with a whole lot of unanticipated stress.”

“Why hasn’t she left?” Beth asks.

I tap her arm. “You know why. Mom has told us plenty of times how she couldn’t leave.”

“But she did,” Beth says. “She left eventually. And maybe we can help.”

Sierra’s gaze falls to the floor. “My mother is a proud woman. She won’t accept charity.”

“What if she got a job?” I sign, Beth still interpreting for me. “Surely our dad can get her something at a hospital somewhere.”

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