Noted

Chapter 12

I spent New Year's Day celebrating the return of my mother. She looked well; in fact she seemed healthier than she did before she left. She told me about some of her treatments but left out how painful they'd been. Instead she raved about how her doctor was a great help in getting her back on her feet; well "almost," she'd say with a laugh.

"I'm just glad you're back, Mom" I said, sympathetically. "I'm just sorry you had to miss Christmas."

"You know that was the least of my worries," she replied. "I have plenty more Christmases to look forward to."

I felt my heart warm for the first time since she had left.

"We have plans to meet with the Collins later today," my mother said. "Why don't you start getting ready?"

"Sure," I smiled, but she was dreading the idea of seeing Christopher Collins.

The Collins',  were a wealthy family that owned more than half of the Upper East Side and had been friends with the Moore's for years. Beverly Moore and Violet Collins had been high school friends and kept their friendship close ever since. At least that's what they told everyone, but, they were in fact quite far from being friends. In the business world they lived in, it was wiser to keep your affluent friends closer than to make enemies with them.

Violet and Trevor Collins had a son named Christopher. He was studying law at Harvard and was in Manhattan visiting his parents for the long weekend. He was short for a Collins; since they were all very tall people. He had a short buzz cut at the moment, but he normally had long blonde curly hair and attempted to show off his manliness with a thick beard. Since we were four, Christopher always had the biggest crush on me, but I couldn't have been less interested in a boy who thought video games were more important than anything that actually consisted of using brain cells. On the other hand, Christopher was an outstanding football player, and that's what got him into The Harvard Crimson Team. Thank god it did, because he wouldn't have been accepted just based on of his SATs. I personally thought he had just taken too many tackles to the head.

I wasn't in any mood to deal with his constant attempts to woo me; or in the mood for much else for that matter. But, I wasn't about to abandon my mom so soon after her return home.

Only moments later, I sat in front of my vanity table and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked tired, my eyes were bloodshot. The bags under my eyes were puffy from all the crying and my cheeks looked sunken in, making me look like a corpse. I used to be hard on myself about my appearance constantly, but I had never looked anywhere near as bad as I did that day. I definitely didn't feel pretty, and I decided to pack on the makeup in order to make myself look presentable. The last thing I wanted was for Violet to comment on my new undead look, and I'd have no choice but to think of an excuse.

As I applied a thick coat of concealer, I could hear the faint sound of shouting coming from down the hall. My parents were fighting again. I was immediately angry at the fact that they let themselves go at each other's throats knowing that my mother was still considered a cancer patient and couldn't take any stress. I was curious though, so I decided to put my ear up to the crack of my door and attempt to decipher the words from the muffled mumbling argument.

As I listened, all I could understand from their arguing is that she must have been yelling at him for his alcohol abuse or something she saw in the news. I had noticed my father pouring himself a bourbon at eleven o'clock that morning, so it seemed to be the logical response. I opened my door ever so slightly and was able to better hear their words.

"You know what this does to the family," I heard my mother say. "What it does to Quinn."

Perhaps my mother was more aware of Philip's rage episodes than I had originally thought.