Sin Eaters Ch. 02 - Juniper

"June?"

"...Uh-huh."

"I'm so fucking sorry." A bolt of anxiety pierced my heart. The voice was far less composed than usual, to the point of wavering and nearly cracking, but there was no mistaking it for anyone else but Quinn. Same feminine tone, same intensity behind each word. "What happened yesterday? I'm not like that. I'm just not."

I blinked. "Okay?"

"You can hate me if you want--fuck knows I deserve it after all the awful shit I did--but please, please don't think of me that way. You can't. That...that wasn't me." A choked sob forced her to pause. "I help people. I build them up, not tear them down. You know that, right? You know I'd never do anything like that to Helen? Not that it was right to do to you! That's not what I meant. Fuck. Sorry. I'm fucking this up. I know it's not right to...well, it can be okay, but the things I was feeling and the way I did it I...fuck. I just meant...you know I'm not like that almost ever, right? With Helen, or my clients, I'm able to...yeah. You know?"

While sober, I probably could have thrown together a more coherent response. But I wasn't, and my brain was struggling to keep pace.

"...Okay."

Quinn sucked in a breath. "We don't ever have to talk again if you don't want to. With how I fucking ruined everything, I'd get it. Seriously. If you'd still want to hang out with Helen, I could just make sure to not be around."

She sounded like she'd been rehearsing some version of these words for hours, working herself into a panicked frenzy. There was no real point engaging with them, not while she was in this state. "You don't have to do that. Quinn, is Helen with you?"

She sniffled. "No. She's busy tonight presenting at some big digital conference. I can leave you alone, though, if you want. I'll be fine. Do you want me to go?"

"Do you have any close friends you could hang out with for a bit, just until you calm down?"

Silence.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Do you have some good coping skills that work for you?"

"...I don't know. There are some I give clients, but I shouldn't have to..." She went silent.

Christ, Quinn was a social worker. A transgender social worker. How on earth did she not know how to deal with stuff like this? Did she seriously need the help of the dropout food service worker? And was the dropout food service worker seriously about to help her?

I was. Maybe that made me generous, maybe it made me dumb. I mostly just felt bad for her, annoyingly enough.

"Okay. Take a deep breath."

She did.

"Tell me something you can see."

"My lamp."

I settled onto my back, twirling a lock of hair around my finger. "Describe it."

"You don't have to do this. I'm sor--"

"Just tell me about the stupid lamp."

Her tone took on a subtle edge. "It's black. Plastic and metal. Shiny. Points in a specific direction, with a flexible neck. Like the Pixar lamp."

"Good. Now something you can feel. Touch, I mean."

"Couch cushion. It's...fabric-y. Softer moving your fingers one way, rougher moving them another. More textured." As she offered descriptions, her voice grew steadier.

"Ok. Taste or smell?"

A brief pause. I pictured her running her tongue over her lips and teeth, then made myself stop picturing that because it made my nipples harden and I definitely didn't need hard nipples at the moment.

"Paprika. Sorry--smoky and peppery. And my downstairs neighbor uses this air freshener that's sort of, fake vanilla, so...that too. For smell." Having come down from her freakout, Quinn sounded smaller and more fragile.

"And hear?"

"Your voice," she replied automatically. "It's really pretty. Airy and light."

I winced. "Stop."

"What? It is."

She was lying. Trying to appease me with a compliment or weirdly timed flirt. Only, she'd responded too quickly and genuinely for--

"No." I raked the nails of my free hand across my scalp. "Pick something else."

There was a tense pause. I could practically hear Quinn straining not to challenge me.

"Okay," she finally acquiesced. "My space heater's making a low, rumbling, kind of electronic sound.

"Good. Better?" I asked tersely.

"Yes. Thank you. Sorry for--"

"Then I'll talk to you later. Bye." I hung up and tossed my phone across the bed.

This woman was going to drive me insane. She blundered onto my insecurities like a cartoon character stepping on rakes but didn't even have the courtesy to be the perfect, easily hateable version of herself I'd imagined all day long. I burrowed under my comforter, pulling it up to just over my nose. My toes peeked out at the other end because I was just that massive.

Nope. Bad train of thought. Keep it together, Juniper. Distract yourself. Think about Quinn complimenting--no, don't think about that. Or Helen. Think of something mind-numbingly dull like times tables or how many European cities I could remember off the top of my head.

I reached underneath my bed for a notebook and pen, then flipped through pages and pages of equally banal lists before arriving at an empty page and beginning to write. Paris. Brussels. Berlin. London. Amsterdam...I ended up with a few dozen by the time I stopped wanting to be awake for the day.

Before going to sleep, I grabbed a banana from my corner kitchenette and placed it on my desk for next morning's breakfast. Because the system worked.

Because I wasn't spiraling.