"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 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.