Post by Carson Medawar on Oct 16, 2018 15:33:59 GMT -5
Carson had not planned to spend his day like this. In fact, he'd planned to spend his day home with his wife and his own son. But then, Stephanie had started again about how worried she was about Cheyenne and how she was going to make a meal to bring over to Kyle and Cheyenne to make sure that they had good food to eat. He didn't bother pointing out that there was plenty of good food to be ordered in Los Angeles because that wouldn't stop her. But as Stephanie continued to fret over Cheyenne, he decided that he'd had enough. Kyle was worried about her, Stephanie was worried about her, and he was sure that if babies had enough sense to worry Christopher would be worried about her.
Thus, he'd let Stephanie prepare together a meal but when she finished he did something that he had never done before. "I'll take it over," he said.
"Really?" she asked, clearly not having expected this turn of events.
"Really, I wanted to see Kyle anyway," he answered, grabbing his keys. He knew for a fact Kyle was taking Christopher for his checkup today, because he'd already asked the guy if he wanted to go out for drinks a little later tonight to help get his mind off of everything going on and he'd said that he wasn't sure and that Christopher had an afternoon check up anyway.
"Oh, well, thanks honey," his wife had smiled, granting him with one of those purely good smiles that he was sure she wouldn't give him if she knew what he had in mind. But, he didn't tell her what he had in mind. He simply gave her a kiss and took the covered dish out into his car after grabbing a hat and sunglasses.
The drive over to the Quinn house took a bit of time, as travelling by car often did in LA, but it was partly because ironically, Cheyenne and Kyle lived in a more secluded area than he did. Sure, his house was far from common roads but it wasn't as tucked away. He had close neighbors for Stephanie to be able to socialize with, whereas Cheyenne and Kyle had seemed to pick a house based on wanting a bit more privacy and a higher standard of design. Personally, he wouldn't have minded a house more like his sister and brother-in-law's but he knew Stephanie would never see it as a home and that was how they'd picked their own house, with him giving little input and just waiting to hear what Stephanie had thought.
Though he had a key, which he used to get past the gate, he didn't go straight into the house. Instead, he rang the bell, forcing Cheyenne to come to the door. It took longer than she normally would and when she opened the door she looked very frustrated.
"Kyle isn't here," she told him, her voice dry but not as snappy as he usually expected her to be.
The times he'd seen his sister since she'd given birth were when she was out and about, looking more simple than usual but still put together. The woman in front of him barely seemed like this sister. Despite having given birth to a child only some weeks ago, she was thin. Thinner than usual, her eyes had dark bags underneath them and her skin seemed uneven like he hadn't ever seen it because she'd always been so in control of her image. This woman had no make-up and wore a loose dress but not in a way that hinted toward style but more as something that she'd just thrown on, her hair too was thrown up into a messy ponytail that spoke of laziness instead of fashion. Frankly, she looked like a mess.
So he held out the dish of the meal that Steph had made. "Stephanie made this for you," he told her. "And I'm not here for Kyle anyway."
She had sighed when he told her about Stephanie's meal but at the continuation of his sentence she gave a light snort, raising an eyebrow. "Not here for Kyle?"
"That's what I said, now let me go put this down." He pushed past her easily, without her putting up any resistance although he noticed that at least now she seemed mildly agitated with him. Making his way to the kitchen he noticed that there was something a bit off about everything from the last time that he'd visited before Christopher was born. Obviously there was now evidence that a baby lived here, but he could see some crumbs on the floor in different places and it seemed like the table and counters hadn't been cleaned in a few days. When he opened the fridge he noted that there was almost nothing fresh inside, which spoke even more to the situation.
"Okay, you did your job. Now go," Cheyenne said, but her voice lacked its usual conviction. She sounded bored.
He turned to his sister, looked her square in the eye with the challenging look that he always gave her. He looked at her as if she was her usual self and even though at this point he didn't feel like knocking her down he was pretty sure that she needed it. "I'd love to, I really would, but I can't," he told her, sighing in frustration and throwing her a look like this was all her fault.
"What the hell are you going on about, Carson? No one is making you do shit, so leave," she said, her eyes lighting up a little with annoyance.
"Okay, you're right, no one is making me do shit." He hopped up onto the counter and took a seat on it, knowing that Cheyenne had always hated that and although her reaction seemed muted compared to normal he did notice her hand twitch slightly.
"Don't sit on my counter!"
"The thing is though, Stephanie is worrying about you and it's really bringing me down," he hopped off the counter, but went over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice and took a swing directly out of it.
She quickly walked over and pulled the carton from his hand. "You're disgusting. And sorry your wife is worried about me, but I told her not to be, so take it up with her," she snapped, stomping over to the paper towel to grab a piece and wipe the carton of orange juice down from where he had drank from it.
"And it's not just that," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, opening the freezer and grabbing a pint of ice cream out. He noticed that it was Cheyenne's favorite flavor, but she was busy trying to contaminate the orange juice carton, so he was able to grab a spoon. "But Kyle too. So I've got to hear all about Cheyenne this." A huge spoonful of ice cream went into his mouth. He didn't even care for the flavor, it was just to annoy her. It was working. "Cheyenne that."
"Leave my food alone!" Now she was getting clearly frustrated, trying to reach for the carton but he was taller than her and he held it up out of her reach. "And get out of my house!"
"Everyone all worried about poor, poor Cheyenne. Too stubborn to get help, but clearly needing it." He spoke carelessly, flinging the words at her in a sharp precision masked with an indifference that he knew always had bothered her. It was one of the things she hated about him, how cool he could stay in any situation.
Her face was scrunching up, turning pink and she seemed to be shaking lightly. Compared to the slightly glossy look she'd had before, he'd say it was an improvement, though he knew if there was any negative outcomes on this he'd never hear the end of it from Kyle and Stephanie would give her famous disappointed look. "Shut up, Carson. I don't need you to tell me what's going on in my life," her voice shook, her eyes welled up with moisture.
"Well apparently I do," he answered, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "Cheyenne, get your shit together. Get some goddamn help so that I can stop hearing about you."
This seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back and suddenly his sister, who was always so strong and so composed was sobbing in a horrible, broken way. She seemed to be trying to say something through her tears, but all that came out were jagged breaths and she fell to the floor, gasping and crying and looking so impossibly small in a way that he'd never seen her. He set the ice cream down and moved to sit next to her and for the first time that he could remember he wrapped an arm around her. Soothingly he rubbed her arm, an action which originally made her cry even harder which he could understand. This must really be rock bottom for her, having him provide any sort of comfort for her but after about five minutes she stopped crying.
"I really am a mess," she said quietly, wiping away her tears with the heel of her palm and looking at him as if she was sharing some horrible realization with him.
"You are," he agreed and she shoved him away from her which he figured meant that she was feeling a little bit better. So, he went ahead and pulled out the list of therapists that he'd recently asked his manager about - having demanded who he could see that would be discreet and tucked away enough that he wouldn't be bothered going to appointments. Not that he was going to go to any appointments but he knew Cheyenne - stubborn as she was, would want that as well. "Here, find someone to talk to. Professionally. Everyone here has a good reputation."
She eyed the list but ultimately grabbed it and looked it over. Then after a moment she stood up, took in a breath and looked down at Carson, still seated on the floor. She took in a breath as if to say something then her eyes landed on the ice cream that was left on counter. "Carson! You left my ice cream on the counter! It's melting!" she snapped, rushing over to ice cream, grabbing the lid and placing it back on before rushing it over to the cupboard.
This Cheyenne was one that seemed more like herself, so he stood up and wiped his hands off while shrugging. "Got distracted," he replied uncaringly.
"Okay well, you can go now," she told him, turning back to face him. Some siblings might have been having a moment now, but that wasn't who they were. They weren't friends. They were two people who shared the same parents, who had similar upbringings and who shared the most important people in their lives but they'd never be friends or anything close. They didn't need to be either. They understood one another, even when they didn't like each other and maybe that was what was important.
"Fine, I'll leave," he replied, turning to do so but then glancing back at her. "But before you go out you should probably cover up that pimple on your face. Unless it's some weird new fashion thing."
"Out!" she demanded of him and he went back to doing just that. She followed him to the door though and when he opened it she said his name. For a moment he was afraid she was going to ruin things and say something mushy or go ahead and thank him or something equally as stupid. Instead she fixed him with a hard look, "Don't say anything about this to anyone."
He gave her a quizzical look. "Who would I tell?" he asked, shaking his head and making his way out of the house and back to his car. He chanced a look back at his sister who looked somewhat relieved and a little more of a mess than when he'd arrived, but somehow he felt like he'd done something good here today. Maybe he had to once in his life.
Thus, he'd let Stephanie prepare together a meal but when she finished he did something that he had never done before. "I'll take it over," he said.
"Really?" she asked, clearly not having expected this turn of events.
"Really, I wanted to see Kyle anyway," he answered, grabbing his keys. He knew for a fact Kyle was taking Christopher for his checkup today, because he'd already asked the guy if he wanted to go out for drinks a little later tonight to help get his mind off of everything going on and he'd said that he wasn't sure and that Christopher had an afternoon check up anyway.
"Oh, well, thanks honey," his wife had smiled, granting him with one of those purely good smiles that he was sure she wouldn't give him if she knew what he had in mind. But, he didn't tell her what he had in mind. He simply gave her a kiss and took the covered dish out into his car after grabbing a hat and sunglasses.
The drive over to the Quinn house took a bit of time, as travelling by car often did in LA, but it was partly because ironically, Cheyenne and Kyle lived in a more secluded area than he did. Sure, his house was far from common roads but it wasn't as tucked away. He had close neighbors for Stephanie to be able to socialize with, whereas Cheyenne and Kyle had seemed to pick a house based on wanting a bit more privacy and a higher standard of design. Personally, he wouldn't have minded a house more like his sister and brother-in-law's but he knew Stephanie would never see it as a home and that was how they'd picked their own house, with him giving little input and just waiting to hear what Stephanie had thought.
Though he had a key, which he used to get past the gate, he didn't go straight into the house. Instead, he rang the bell, forcing Cheyenne to come to the door. It took longer than she normally would and when she opened the door she looked very frustrated.
"Kyle isn't here," she told him, her voice dry but not as snappy as he usually expected her to be.
The times he'd seen his sister since she'd given birth were when she was out and about, looking more simple than usual but still put together. The woman in front of him barely seemed like this sister. Despite having given birth to a child only some weeks ago, she was thin. Thinner than usual, her eyes had dark bags underneath them and her skin seemed uneven like he hadn't ever seen it because she'd always been so in control of her image. This woman had no make-up and wore a loose dress but not in a way that hinted toward style but more as something that she'd just thrown on, her hair too was thrown up into a messy ponytail that spoke of laziness instead of fashion. Frankly, she looked like a mess.
So he held out the dish of the meal that Steph had made. "Stephanie made this for you," he told her. "And I'm not here for Kyle anyway."
She had sighed when he told her about Stephanie's meal but at the continuation of his sentence she gave a light snort, raising an eyebrow. "Not here for Kyle?"
"That's what I said, now let me go put this down." He pushed past her easily, without her putting up any resistance although he noticed that at least now she seemed mildly agitated with him. Making his way to the kitchen he noticed that there was something a bit off about everything from the last time that he'd visited before Christopher was born. Obviously there was now evidence that a baby lived here, but he could see some crumbs on the floor in different places and it seemed like the table and counters hadn't been cleaned in a few days. When he opened the fridge he noted that there was almost nothing fresh inside, which spoke even more to the situation.
"Okay, you did your job. Now go," Cheyenne said, but her voice lacked its usual conviction. She sounded bored.
He turned to his sister, looked her square in the eye with the challenging look that he always gave her. He looked at her as if she was her usual self and even though at this point he didn't feel like knocking her down he was pretty sure that she needed it. "I'd love to, I really would, but I can't," he told her, sighing in frustration and throwing her a look like this was all her fault.
"What the hell are you going on about, Carson? No one is making you do shit, so leave," she said, her eyes lighting up a little with annoyance.
"Okay, you're right, no one is making me do shit." He hopped up onto the counter and took a seat on it, knowing that Cheyenne had always hated that and although her reaction seemed muted compared to normal he did notice her hand twitch slightly.
"Don't sit on my counter!"
"The thing is though, Stephanie is worrying about you and it's really bringing me down," he hopped off the counter, but went over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice and took a swing directly out of it.
She quickly walked over and pulled the carton from his hand. "You're disgusting. And sorry your wife is worried about me, but I told her not to be, so take it up with her," she snapped, stomping over to the paper towel to grab a piece and wipe the carton of orange juice down from where he had drank from it.
"And it's not just that," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, opening the freezer and grabbing a pint of ice cream out. He noticed that it was Cheyenne's favorite flavor, but she was busy trying to contaminate the orange juice carton, so he was able to grab a spoon. "But Kyle too. So I've got to hear all about Cheyenne this." A huge spoonful of ice cream went into his mouth. He didn't even care for the flavor, it was just to annoy her. It was working. "Cheyenne that."
"Leave my food alone!" Now she was getting clearly frustrated, trying to reach for the carton but he was taller than her and he held it up out of her reach. "And get out of my house!"
"Everyone all worried about poor, poor Cheyenne. Too stubborn to get help, but clearly needing it." He spoke carelessly, flinging the words at her in a sharp precision masked with an indifference that he knew always had bothered her. It was one of the things she hated about him, how cool he could stay in any situation.
Her face was scrunching up, turning pink and she seemed to be shaking lightly. Compared to the slightly glossy look she'd had before, he'd say it was an improvement, though he knew if there was any negative outcomes on this he'd never hear the end of it from Kyle and Stephanie would give her famous disappointed look. "Shut up, Carson. I don't need you to tell me what's going on in my life," her voice shook, her eyes welled up with moisture.
"Well apparently I do," he answered, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "Cheyenne, get your shit together. Get some goddamn help so that I can stop hearing about you."
This seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back and suddenly his sister, who was always so strong and so composed was sobbing in a horrible, broken way. She seemed to be trying to say something through her tears, but all that came out were jagged breaths and she fell to the floor, gasping and crying and looking so impossibly small in a way that he'd never seen her. He set the ice cream down and moved to sit next to her and for the first time that he could remember he wrapped an arm around her. Soothingly he rubbed her arm, an action which originally made her cry even harder which he could understand. This must really be rock bottom for her, having him provide any sort of comfort for her but after about five minutes she stopped crying.
"I really am a mess," she said quietly, wiping away her tears with the heel of her palm and looking at him as if she was sharing some horrible realization with him.
"You are," he agreed and she shoved him away from her which he figured meant that she was feeling a little bit better. So, he went ahead and pulled out the list of therapists that he'd recently asked his manager about - having demanded who he could see that would be discreet and tucked away enough that he wouldn't be bothered going to appointments. Not that he was going to go to any appointments but he knew Cheyenne - stubborn as she was, would want that as well. "Here, find someone to talk to. Professionally. Everyone here has a good reputation."
She eyed the list but ultimately grabbed it and looked it over. Then after a moment she stood up, took in a breath and looked down at Carson, still seated on the floor. She took in a breath as if to say something then her eyes landed on the ice cream that was left on counter. "Carson! You left my ice cream on the counter! It's melting!" she snapped, rushing over to ice cream, grabbing the lid and placing it back on before rushing it over to the cupboard.
This Cheyenne was one that seemed more like herself, so he stood up and wiped his hands off while shrugging. "Got distracted," he replied uncaringly.
"Okay well, you can go now," she told him, turning back to face him. Some siblings might have been having a moment now, but that wasn't who they were. They weren't friends. They were two people who shared the same parents, who had similar upbringings and who shared the most important people in their lives but they'd never be friends or anything close. They didn't need to be either. They understood one another, even when they didn't like each other and maybe that was what was important.
"Fine, I'll leave," he replied, turning to do so but then glancing back at her. "But before you go out you should probably cover up that pimple on your face. Unless it's some weird new fashion thing."
"Out!" she demanded of him and he went back to doing just that. She followed him to the door though and when he opened it she said his name. For a moment he was afraid she was going to ruin things and say something mushy or go ahead and thank him or something equally as stupid. Instead she fixed him with a hard look, "Don't say anything about this to anyone."
He gave her a quizzical look. "Who would I tell?" he asked, shaking his head and making his way out of the house and back to his car. He chanced a look back at his sister who looked somewhat relieved and a little more of a mess than when he'd arrived, but somehow he felt like he'd done something good here today. Maybe he had to once in his life.