Keep Quinn Calm

 KEEP QUINN CALM

Erica was at the pet store with her daughter, Quinn, when the problem began. After being a single mother for 12 years, Erica was emotionally drained and desperately struggling to find some sense of inner peace. Trying to keep Quinn calm was an endless battle. Erica was so tired of explaining to people why they can’t stand to close to Quinn. She made certain to always have Quinn’s noise reduction headphones on hand. Erica had to plan out the days carefully, trying to predict any possible trigger. Would it be noise? Would it be a texture? Would it be the people? It could be something as simple as a road closure forcing them to take a different route to the library, one that would not allow them to twice drive over railroad tracks, taking away the possibility of seeing a freight train slowly crawl past them.

Quinn very much wanted a pet. Erica didn’t want to deal with the hassle of taking care of a cat or a dog. So, She purchased a modest size fish tank and several pretty fish to occupy it. Quinn loved gazing at the colorful fish, swimming back and forth. She’d just sit in front of the tank, hugging a doll or a stuffed animal, captivated by the soundless fish. Erica had seen Quinn fall into the same trance with front-load washing machines and carpet cleaners. In her world, these were the things that mattered.

Cleaning the fish tank was Erica’s job, and it was a truly fatiguing experience. First, she’d scoop out some of the water into a bowl. Then she’d chase the fish with a net while cursing under her breath, “Get over here, damn’t! I don’t have all day.” Then Erica would pull out the now slimy decor and put all of that in a bucket. She used a large cup to scoop out the dirty water and pour it down the tub or toilet. Then she’d carry the clunky tank to the tub. Erica would dump the gravel into a colander and give it a thorough rinsing. Erica sifted through it with her fingers, making certain all of the fish poop and slime has been removed. Then she’d carefully wipe down the glass with a clean sponge and warm water. That also gets a thorough rinsing. She had to keep lifting it and adjusting its position so that every corner, every bit of that glass was perfectly clean.

That’s phase 1. Phase 2 is putting it all back together. Although not quite as annoying as the cleaning, it’s still a tedious mess. Erica cleaned the table it was sitting on. Then she’d lie down a rubber matting to protect the table. Next, Erica would place the empty, temporarily clean tank on the table. She’d pour in about half of the gravel. Erica then placed the fake plants and house for the fish, one at a time. She would hold it in place while pouring gravel over it. Then she’d put in a clean filter, thermometer and the water heating device. After all that, she’d pour in room temperature water, the pH treatment solution, and wait until the temperature was in the safe zone. Then Erica would put the fish back in, hoping that in the meantime the water in the bowl didn’t get cold and that they would survive the transport.

The last phase is seeing Quinn happy again while Erica lay down some place, and take a break. Erica would do anything for Quinn, anything at all to see her happy and calm. She desperately wanted to know the same feeling herself.

All was going well with the fish until one day they had a floater. This was followed by loud sobbing. Quinn approached Erica, “Fish ddddeeeeeaaaad1!!” She had a bright blue and yellow plush fish toy in her arms. Tears were streaming down her face. Erica took a deep breath and swiftly walked to the tank. A golden hued fish was floating around in there. They quietly had a brief toilet bowl funeral for said fish.

Quinn stopped crying and turned to Erica with her enormous brown eyes, trembling in their moist redness. “Pet store?” This was followed by a few snotty sniffs.

Erica took a deep sigh. Most pet fish were cheap. It would calm her down.

At the pet store, Quinn walked swiftly to the fish tanks. She put her face close to the glass fronts of each tank, slowly taking her time picking out a fish. She chose a new fish, very similar in color and size to the recently departed. Before checking out, she insisted on looking at every single animal in the store. While she marveled over every turtle, snake, hamster, lizard-like things, and birds, Erica held this bag of water in her hand with what was probably a terrified fish. Quinn went to the large glass window, revealing their grooming center.

“Wow!” Erica heard Quinn exclaim as she watched groomers washing or trimming the dog fur. Erica was still standing by, holding a bag of water, occasionally feeling the gentle bump of the new fish.

They wondered over the adoption center, showing several cats behind panes of glass. Beside each one was a clip board with information about the cat.

“Oh wow! Look!”

Now what.

“I love that ccaaatttt!” Casually sitting behind the pane of glass, licking itself and completely ignoring Quinn, was a beautiful Turkish Angora. A female with long white fur and blue eyes. Whenever there’s a beautiful female cat in a cartoon, it’s drawn to look exactly like this cat.

“I love that ccaaatttt! Her name is Betty White Cat and she’s my best friend!” The crying started again.

Thoughts were racing through my mind.

Ok, so she just used a full sentence, that’s good. She’s still grieving the loss of her fish and has already forgotten that she has a new living fish swimming in a plastic bag of water in my hand. I can remind her of the new fish, but I doubt that will take her mind off of a cat that she’s looked at for 1 minute and already named and declared to be her best friend. I’m not going to win this battle.

A clerk approached when she saw Quinn’s condition. It was a young woman, one of the slender ones with glossy blonde hair. Judging by the wrinkles forming on her forehead and around her green eyes Erica could see that she was concerned but kind.

“It’s okay sweetheart.” The hand was slowly reaching out to touch Quinn’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch her!” Erica yelled with strong alarm. The clerk jumped back, mouth open, eyes opened wide. With a more calm voice Erica explained, “She’s autistic, she’ll start screaming if you touch her.” Erica’s eyes were now closed. Her head was tilted back, as if her neck muscles could no longer hold it up.

“I was just trying to help,” the clerk said delicately.

“I know,” Erica breathed with a fragile degree of energy.

The clerk crept slowly away, as if Quinn and Erica were poisoned or contagious. Still holding the fish in one hand, Erica pulled out her phone, did a speed dial to the other occupant of her apartment, her mother.

“Hello?”

“I think we’re going to have to get a cat.” Erica spoke slowly and with deep levels of exasperation.

The next few days brought new hell into her life. The adoption process wasn’t quite as complicated as buying all the merchandise. Erica cut back on personal expenses and decided to wait a week to pay a bill so she could instead get a cat carrier, cat food, bowls, litter, litter box, toys, a collar, and scratch deterrent.

Eventually, Erica came home with the cat in her carrier and set it down on the floor. Quinn came rushing in, her face glowing. Erica opened the carrier and “Betty” crept out slowly.

Quinn’s voice was trembling with excitement. “She’s mine? I can keep her?”

“All yours.”

Betty wasted no time in exploring her new home. She was jumping on everything. She got into all the sinks, under the counters, in the cabinets, in the closets, under the beds, and even got on top of the refrigerator. She was fast and extremely limber.

Over the next few days, Betty kept getting lost in the apartment. They’d tear the place apart looking for her while Quinn panicked that Betty was gone forever. They’d find Betty hiding in boxes, purses, boots, and once in the crock pot. It became a routine to shake a bag of cat treats and before long Betty would come trotting out from her new hiding place. She’d stretch herself across the carpet, unconcerned about Quinn’s tears. Quinn would scoop her up and carry her around like a baby. Betty seemed annoyed but was getting used to it.

They allowed the fish to one by one die off without buying replacements. Erica quickly grew tired of chasing Betty off of the fish tank. Betty had become an expert at knocking the lid off and swishing her paws inside, trying to catch the fish. When she wasn’t doing that, she was climbing the window screens or jumping onto bookshelves and knocking the books off so there would be room for her.

Erica’s was frequently heard to say, “Damn’t Betty get off of there!” Or she’d say, “What have you got in your mouth?” It was like having a little furry toddler running around.

For years, Erica had endured endless judgment from strangers. She had developed PCOS, gained weight, and saw her hair falling out. Her daughter was diagnosed with Autism and had severe developmental delays. Every now and then she’d hear some woman say, “well my daughter never acted like that.” One time a child approached her and asked if Quinn was “retarded.” It took years to learn the triggers and how to avoid them. Erica’s entire life had turned into one goal: keep Quinn calm. She didn’t socialize. She didn’t date. She fought people’s ignorance and cried in the shower on a regular basis.

There was always something going wrong. Even if Quinn was calm, Erica would see her reflection in the mirror and cringe. Work at the local grocery store was back-breaking. And she was terribly lonely.

After one particularly exhausting night of problems, Erica sat out on the apartment balcony. The evening air was cool. And if she closed her eyes and focused on the gentle breeze, she could almost imagine being some place else. Erica could go to her favorite fantasy, a house in the country where Quinn could be noisy and no one would complain. A grocery delivery service so she could avoid the most annoying place on earth. Maybe even a caring husband that actually wanted to be Quinn’s father. Sometimes she’d wonder about those things; wonder if they were truly possible. Mostly she’d wonder if she would ever find any sense of internal peace.

Erica withdrew from her dream world. She stared up at the stars for a while. She looked at where the tops of the trees met the sky. She didn’t want to look at the buildings, the telephone lines, the cars rushing down the street. Erica wanted it to all go away so she could find some peace.

At some point she checked in on Quinn. Quinn was asleep and her face was all peace. Betty was at her side. Quinn’s little hand was laying palm up at the side of Betty, as if she had petted Betty until she fell asleep. Her happiness and joy were the best moments of Erica’s life. Erica had no idea if she’d ever have a husband or a house in the country, but she had small moments of peace. They were brief, but just as beautiful as escape. In reality, she was never going to escape her problems, no matter where she moved. She didn’t know how she was going to survive tomorrow, but she could start be surviving the next fifteen minutes. Yes, she’ll focus on fifteen minutes and nothing more. Because sometimes, that’s all you can do.

Betty lifted her head up and blinked her eyes at Erica. Erica scowled at the rotten cat. If it weren’t for that cat she wouldn’t have to vacuum so often. If it weren’t for that cat she wouldn’t be awakened at 3 AM to the sound of Betty running up and down the hallway, jumping on furniture, knocking things over. Then she remembered Quinn’s laughter earlier when she learned what it felt like to pet a purring cat. “Look!” She had squealed, “Betty likes me.”

As Erica watched Quinn sleep in peace she whispered, “Fine. You can stay. But only because you like Quinn.”