Page 7 of Quinlan

Other than the blessed silence, Rex is nicer in the evenings. He isn’t as impatient as he is when the place is packed. He’s less than easy-going, true. That’s who he is. He’ll never be the friendly type, given our shared trauma.

Without the pressure of orders and broken mugs, though, he’s better.

He’s my only remaining sibling. He’s grumpy and controlling as well and far from perfect.

Getting a B on my math exam?“What the hell is this? You can do so much better, Quinlan.”

Failing to call him and letting him know I’m okay after a night out during my college years?“You’ll end up giving me a heart attack one of these days. Is that what you want? For me to die? You spend too much time away from your parents. You want them to be all alone, too?”

Who is perfect, anyway? No one.

I hit send on another email as I bob my head to the music. “Doll Parts” by Hole starts playing over the speakers. I like that one.

Rex clears his throat, calling for my attention. Raising a questioning eyebrow.How are you doing?

I’m good.I return a small smile and give him a thumbs up.

I shouldn’t be complaining. I won’t. We’re family. Together forever, through thick and thin.

What’s left of us.

With that in mind, I’m back to my laptop. I’m a one-woman show, running my own business as a web designer. There are a few touch-ups I need to work on for one of my newer clients, as per his email. A project I have to rush since I’m tight on time.

I’m here today to give Rex the huge news I got today. When he’s less busy. When the next customers leave, and Wayne, the only server on this shift, doesn’t need help. Eliana, the barista, is busy making coffee, so I have to wait.

Back to my laptop, I go. Minutes pass, not sure how many. When I lift my head, to my surprise, I find the place has nearly emptied up.

The coffee machine huffs and puffs as Eliana cleans it, ready to turn it off for the day. They leave one open late at night. Wayne wipes the tables around me. And there he goes, the last patron stepping out the door.

Until another one stops by, Rex will have a minute for me.

“Hey.” I wave to him. “Could you come over for a sec?”

He slumps on the chair next to mine, throwing a blue dish towel over his shoulder. Runs a hand through his thick blond hair, his brown eyes tired.

“Hey, kid.”

At twenty-three, I’m no kid. Objectively speaking, I haven’t been for a while. For Rex, I’ll forever be one.

Maybe because he’s forty-six. Which isn’t old at all. My dad is sixty-eight and he stopped calling mekidyears ago.

Truth be told, he hasn’t called me anything over the past few weeks. Maybe months.

That’s beside the point. Rex is here, and if he insists on calling me kid, it’s fine. I like it less when he treats me like one. I let him do it, regardless. I feel bad for him. Guilty, even. For his constant pain and moods. For an accident I had a part in.

I do everything I can to ease his pain. Pay Mom and Dad’s bills. Go visit them in the suburbs when they don’t pick up the phone or skip their psychiatrist sessions. Rex doesn’t fight me on this.

We agreed that it would be better if I handled it since he can’t afford any of it and he can’t work on the drive over like I can.

Working myself to the bone shows. Black circles are a constant feature under my gray eyes. My sandy blonde hair lies in a messy bun on top of my head a lot, like today. My business takes up most of my time. I spend hours on end taking any job that’s been offered to me. Stick to impossible deadlines.

And it’s fine.

Developing websites is my passion. I had to speed up the process a little bit, taking courses since my junior year in high school. I graduated from college three years ago, at twenty. Opened my company a couple of months before that.

It helps my family, too, and I’m proud to be there for them. Just because my parents shut me out doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate what I’m doing for them. They love me. They’re also clinically depressed. It started eighteen years ago and it won’t let them go.

Never mind. Today is about hope.

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