Sudden Trouble

I made my way down the stairs, stretching and cracking my knuckles...heard the television was blaring on the loudest volume possible, or so I figured, from the living room. Some kind of sports game...wasn't sure which quite yet. My son, as large as he was, sprawled out across the couch just a few feet from the 50-inch LED, hadn't even noticed that I'd entered the room. I snatched the remote off the coffee table and muted the damn thing. "Are you deaf?" I asked matter-of-factly.

Finn turned his head around just enough to where he could see my face. One of his eyes scrunched as his brows pulled together. "Beg your pardon?" He asked humorously.

"Why the hell do you have the television blasting? Are you going deaf?" I clarified before tossing the remote control into his lap.

He shook his head, sitting up completely now. "Not that I'm aware of..."

I kind of smiled and then rolled my eyes. "Well you will be if you keep it up, genius." I turned to walk away, desperately needing a glass of wine.

"Mom—" Finn said. I turned around with a questioning look on my face.

I blinked a few times, unsure of what exactly was happening. "What?" He stood and moved over to where I stood at the entryway.

He looked down at me because he was really tall...taller than my husband. I assumed he was well over 5'7. "Are you sure you're alright, Mom? You look grim." He pointed out, most likely referring to the dark circles beneath my eyes or how comically pale my skin was. This is why makeup exists.

I bit down on my tongue and rolled it between my teeth before finally rolling my eyes. "That's what I like to hear...people telling me I look like shit." I patted his shoulder once. "I think I've had enough misery today."

"Misery?" He scoffed.

"Never tell a woman she's 'looking grim' boy...it's rude."

"Sorry." He affirmed.

I held up my index finger as I headed for the kitchen. "Ah! Did you find the package on your bed?" I asked.

"Yep." He offered simply...with nothing else.

I blinked a few times as I searched the cabinet for my special bottle. When I locked in on it a smile split across my face. I dug into the drawer for my bottle opener and shoved it into the cork at the top, twisting methodically. "What was in the box, Finn?" I asked as calmly as I could, still twisting with a purpose.

POP! That oh-so-satisfying sound that the cork made while exiting its glass tunnel echoed through my large kitchen. I sighed as I poured the shiny golden liquid into a chalice, rolling my eyes at the next thing that came bellowing through the house.

"Nothing." I couldn't see into the living room from the kitchen but I just knew he was lying to me. For goodness sake I raised the boy. I knew his lying voice, face, and mannerisms.

With my filled glass in hand, I made my way back towards the living room. Finn was on the couch again in the same position I'd found him in not a minute ago. Slouched inwards like a bum against one of the arms, slumped into my $3500 sofa with one leg resting across the cushions, other foot planted on the floor. "Finn." I seethed.

He turned around again, this time looking at me with more annoyance than compliance. "Mother." He said flatly.

"What...was in...the box?" I asked sweetly, slowly.

"Did I not just tell you?"

I felt my brows pull inwards. "No...you didn't, you actually told me 'nothing'. Am I supposed to believe that you requested an empty box be sent to my home?"

He sat up, straightening his back. Now looking a bit more dignified he assured me with a small grin, "It wasn't anything interesting I promise."

I nodded once, running my finger along the rim of my glass. "It's a graphics card, isn't it?"

His face didn't flinch; not even the tiniest bit. However there was a pause, as he opened his mouth slightly, before saying with a microscopic nod "It's not a graphics card." He never broke eye contact with me.

Finn wasn't the flinch, fiddly kind of liar. He was methodical with it, very sneaky indeed the child was. For the first 10 years of his life I was positive that he was a sociopath. Now I'm sure that he's not, but he's pretty damn close. I was surprised when he told me he wasn't going into a business career, but instead a STEM field. He's a very good liar, and he lacks empathy for people he doesn't know very well...he'd make an excellent stock broker, this boy.

"Alright Finn, I'll believe you. But I know that you're lying."

He laughed once. "Oxymoron."

"Not quite. It is contradictory, indeed. But just not quite that." I offered him a wink, and then turned to walk away.

"Where's Aunt Hazel?" Finn asked. "Her room is empty."

I puffed my cheeks and emptied them just as quickly. "She moved out last week, found her own place." For goodness sake, I wasn't about to tell my 19 year old son about how mentally unstable my sister was.

"Hm," Finn hummed. "She might be borderline, mom. I don't think it's safe to let her live on her own yet."

I blinked a few times. "You think she's what?"

He just looked back at me for a moment, drumming his thumbs against his jean clad thighs. "Borderline."

"What the hell is that?"

His thick, neatly trimmed brows scrunched a bit. "BPD?" He said.

The way he was speaking to me, it was making me feel a bit like a child. Also, my son had this way about his eyes. They were extraordinarily beautiful things, but no matter the situation or mood they always returned to and then rested behind the same guise; this repugnantly bored and superior light echoed through them. It didn't help how confused I was, so I tried to match his aura. "Can you elucidate, Finlay?"

"Borderline personality disorder, it's a term used for people who form unhealthy and unstable attachments to other people or things." He explained.

How does he even know what that is? I rolled my eyes and snorted, "Smartass." The boy was too intelligent for his own good...perfect grades, athletic, obedient and respectful. Sometimes it angered me how I almost never had to lecture him about his behavior as a child.

He couldn't have been more right, though. I'd speculated for a long time but after hearing it from Finn I was positive now. My sister definitely has some kind of personality disorder, and if I had to pick one—that would be it. The poor girl can't form cohesive relationships with anyone, not even her own family.

"By the way Finn, do you remember that new desk your father bought for his study last month?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment before responding. "Vaguely, why?"

"Well it's been sitting in one of the guestrooms upstairs forever now and he hasn't shown the slightest interest in putting it together." Finn knew where I was going with this and I watched as his curiosity slowly morphed into annoyance.

"Hey!" I snapped my fingers, egging him to look at me. "Don't roll your eyes. Your father is getting old, alright—plus he's busy with work. Put it together for him, will you?"

"Well..."

"Finn when I 'ask' you to do something...I'm not really 'asking'. Put the desk together or I'll put my foot up your ass, capiche?"

"Why not just hire someone to put it together for you?" He suggested.

"I just did." Why would I pay someone else to do a job that I can have my perfectly healthy son do for free?

"I'll take care of it Saturday."

"Oh! And while you're at it you can help me clean the pool, too! Sound good?" I used my thumb to point behind me in the direction of the back yard. My pool was in some desperate need of TLC.

He sighed. "Yes."

I narrowed my eyes. "Yes what?"

He corrected himself. "Yes ma'am."

"You're a peach." I lilted.

"You didn't need to threaten me by the way, Mom. I'd do anything for you." Finn said so quietly I almost didn't hear him.

"Good to know." I smiled, ruffling his nicely styled hair until it frizzed.

"Thanks." He said sarcastically and I gave him a kiss on the head in response before heading back upstairs.

I sat on my bed and searched the night stand for the remote control and flipped on the television against the wall across the room.

Damn it! The volume was way too high and it made me wince.

"Finn!? Have you been in my room?!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

"Nope." He called back in a muffled retort.

I clicked my tongue and began surfing the channels for something to make me laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer was approaching rapidly, and with summer came more work. The sun was beating down on my neck harder and harder with each passing day. My social life was beginning to strain and my nerves were so mangled and meandered that I couldn't even find the strength to complain. I was beginning to relapse into this hopelessness I once bathed in a few years ago. The tiredness and exhaustion that once fueled my darkness nights where I couldn't even speak to anyone flooding back to me.

It was my sister, and I'm positive it was. This slowly creeping depression began to manifest the day she moved out of my home. I knew I should not have let her fucking stay in my home. At first the words she uttered, so sloppily and filled with angst had no affect on me. Now, nearly a month later they were beginning to haunt me and make me think back on just how clean cut my life has been. Perhaps I am a damn prude who doesn't love the man she married and is now a zombie workaholic with no real passion for anything anymore. I've accomplished everything, been everywhere, and seen everything.

I'd rather linger on that then the crass, unstable train wreck that is Hazel Duchene.

Though it gave me an ulcer every time, I still made the attempt to spend time with my closest friends: Bev and Chaser.

We had made it a tradition to drink wine and chatter at our local spa and salon. Today, Chaser's cup of tea was the Japanese-style onsen that was just installed less than a month ago. She got it for 3 hours upon called reservation the week before. I'd never been the Jacuzzi type of person...in fact sharing a confined space with anyone made me ill. I couldn't even shower with my own husband...it not only made me feel claustrophobic, but also even filthier—and not in the good way. He was a dope when it came to making me feel sexy and wanted in general.

Point is the onsen was absolutely fantastic. It felt amazing and the beautiful stone walled expanse was roomy and comforting. Even though the bath was enormous, though, my best friends chose to sit as close to me as possible out of habit, boxing me between them.

Bev spoke of uncertainties within her marriage, as you do, while I slid my body deeper into the steaming hot water so that only my eyes were peeking out.

"I think he's cheating on me." Bev admitted finally, and then she set down her clear, nearly empty glass flute on the rocky surface I rested my back against.

Chaser rolled her gorgeous blue, almond-shaped eyes before reaching behind me to grab the bottle of wine and pour her another helping. "You've been thinking that for the last 7 years Bev. Either leave Joaquin or don't...you're casting a line that will never get a nibble."

I chuckled at her analogy beneath the water and watched as bubbles pooled right before my eyes. I loved how blunt and to the point Chaser was. She'd been my best friend and companion since college. Through all the misunderstandings, the arguments, and calling each other bitches until we fell crying into each other's arms...she's been the only person I can really trust with my life. Or so she brags.

Bev hummed as she lowered her eyes to mine. "Is something funny, Eve?"

I nodded but didn't move my face out of the water. Instead I lifted a red puckered hand from the hot, soothing mineral water and pointed a manicured finger in her direction. It fell back in with a plop sound and splashed Bev in the face.

She groaned a bit, wiping her face with both hands. "Someone's an overly zealous twat today."

"Why not try following him and finding out?" Chaser offered and I nudged her ribs with my elbow underneath the water. "What?" She groaned. "I'm not telling her to outright stalk him. Just check his call records a smidge...maybe speak with that pretty blonde secretary of his you never stop bitching to us about...so on, so forth." A tiny grin pulled across her naturally blood stained lips.

Bev clicked her tongue against her teeth. "I'm not you, Chase, okay? I don't need some kind of lunatic affirmation of trust that only I can offer myself."

Chaser stuck her tongue out, booing her.

"We have two small children together—why on Earth would he throw that away for some fling?!" Bev asked absently, resting back against the stones. "Is he trying to mess with my head?" Bev's adorable little twin girls immediately popped into my head, them looking up at me with toothless smiles, calling me 'Auntie Eebie'.

"You know..." Chaser began as she brought her own wine glass up to her lips. "You could probably get a rise out of him by having an affair as well..."

Bev couldn't have looked more bored with that statement. "Just hear me out," Chaser continued. "You think your husband is cheating on you,"

"I know that my husband is cheating on me..." Chaser held up her hand in a 'let me finish' kind of garb.

"Why not lead on that you're cheating as well?"

"Are you insane?" I said finally, lifting my mouth from the water and catching a bit of saltiness in there as I did.

"What?" Chaser asked innocently.

"I'm not having an affair, Chase." Bev said dryly, her eyes void of amusement.

"I'm not telling you to. I'm telling you to make him believe that you are. And if he suspects you, the truth will pourith forth."

I turned to look at the fiery red-headed beauty beside me as she sat back with a smug 'I'm such a fucking genius' look on her stupid face. "Chaser...just hold on to that thought because I'm going to tell you everything wrong with that statement in just a moment."

I turned to Bev. "Bev just talk to Joaquin, okay? I've seen the way that man looks at you many, many times. No matter what is happening outside of your home he loves you—truly. Talk to him."

Bev took a deep breath but nodded, smiling sadly at me. "So what are you going to do about your sister, Eve?"

Hazel had completely and gracefully slipped my mind for a moment up until then. "Shit." I seethed, slapping my hand against the water. "Hopefully this will be her last marriage." I said without a single shred of hope in my voice.

"Is she dying?" Bev asked with a twinge of worry in her voice.

I sunk my head deeper in the water and squeezed my eyes so tightly I could hear the skin in my ears tremble.

Chaser laughed, saying, "Your sister is a character."

Bev and I looked over at her simultaneously. "What? Me too..." She assured before taking another sip of her wine, not making eye contact as she stared forward over the rim.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yvonne!" Alec called out as I was about to board the elevator. I held the door as he jogged over to me.

"What's going on?" I asked skeptically. "I was just going to grab lunch..."

"Your prescription that you asked me to pick up today from the pharmacy, they're out of stock and they can't give you a refill until next week." I felt my whole body stiffen.

Lovely.

I let go of the elevator door and let it slide shut, felt my shoulders slump. "A whole week without my painkillers, huh?" My voice was soft, breathy. I looked up at Alec who was looking back at me sympathetically. "Don't look so guilty Alec it's not helping me to feel less shitty."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing to do Alec, I'll just have to wait until they refill my prescription. For now I'll just..." I paused. "Deal with it."

"I'm so sorry, Yvonne."

I couldn't dwell on it too much now; I had too much going on. Two murder cases and an injury lawsuit. I had to focus, and slowly, the idea of having to do all of this with the sudden splitting migraines began to make me somewhat suicidal.

This is the reason as to why I couldn't bear to look my husband in the eye as we made love that same night. Well...as he made love, and then rolled off of me thoroughly satisfied. Usually I can at least look at him, manage a kiss or two, but without my drugs I couldn't help but stare at the bed frame behind his feet, wondering how I ever managed to sleep with him for years without being doped up.

"How was your day?" I asked half-heartedly, grabbing a tissue from the box on my nightstand to clean myself.

He seemed unwilling, but then offered his usual sarcastic, one-worded response of "Exhilarating."

I watched as his chest rose and fell beside me. "Is there a problem, Charles?"

"Why do you ask?" He seemed taken aback.

"You seem troubled."

"What gave you that impression, Eve?" He asked, sitting up in the bed and looking right at me.

I shook my head once, shrugging just a bit. "Intuition."

He scratched his jaw in silent thought, no longer looking at me. "I've been thinking."

"No way." I joked, feigning shock as I covered my mouth with one hand.

"Really," When he said that, a bit irritated, my face fell. It was only a joke for crying out loud. He's much too sensitive.

"What's the matter?"

"I've been mulling this over for a while, Eve, so don't think of this as a spur of a moment thing alright?" I held my breath, waiting to hear something really shitty. Charles has never been a spur of the moment person. Everything about the man is straight-laced and boring, which is why I've remained married to him since I was 22 years old. "I'm thinking about selling my practice."

That's when I felt my eyes widen. I shook my head so hard that I could feel my brain hitting the walls of my skull. "You what!?"

"I'm going to be 45 next month, Eve—"

"45, Charles, you're an adult with a mortgage and a 401k, why the hell do you think this is a good idea?!" I chided.

"I don't think that seeing dead bodies every day is helping me be a better husband to you or a father to Finlay."

"Finn? What does he have to do with this? He's barely home anymore. And since when have you given a fuck about my well-being?"

"That's what I'm saying! Are you not fucking listening to me?!"

"As much as I appreciate your sudden interest in my happiness," I said sarcastically, haughtily. "I'm going to have to check 'NO' to that particular box. I don't need a cuddle bunny; I need a partner."

He held his face in his hands, trying to calm his breathing.

"Jesus, Charles are you losing your mind? Is this—" And then it dawned on me. "Are you having a mid-life crisis, honey? Is that what this is?!"

He pushed my hand off of his shoulder and stood from the bed, pacing back and forth. "No, Eve."

"Buy a sports car or something, don't tarnish your career and throw away years of hard work, darling. You're a surgeon, that's what you went to school a hundred years for, that's what you need to be doing until it's time for you to retire—"

"And then what?" He yelled, extending his arms on either side of him. "My only child isn't interested in being a surgeon—God knows what the hell he's going to do but it's not medical. Who will I give my practice to? Who do I have to keep working for?"

"So let me get this straight, you don't want to do your job anymore because our son doesn't want to take over your practice?" I asked in utter disbelief, hoping desperately he would see everything wrong with his statement.

"That's not the only reason! I just—"

I was struggling so hard to keep my voice steady. "You what Charles? I can't know if you don't explain it properly."

He went up to the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, slipping them on. "Let me just, figure this out and calm down before we talk again, alright?" He said shakily.