The Sullivan Sisters

Sunday Morning Brew

Morning came faster than either Sullivan anticipated. It crept up on them like a violent oceanic wave with every intention of dragging them, kicking and screaming, into the sea. Luckily, Sundays always had a docile, lazy way about them, so neither of them were complaining.

Paloma was pouring herself a cup of coffee when she spotted the girl on the couch, nose buried deep in a book. Unable to help herself, she approached, displaying a grin on her face. "Do you ever do anything other than read?"

Quinn bookmarked her page and looked up. "This is coming from a writer? You know, it's people like me that keeps people like you employed."

The brunette choked out a laugh, fighting to keep her coffee from spilling.

"Is there any left?"

Paloma nodded. "Freshly brewed." She followed Quinn into the kitchen. "But I should warn you; drinking it as a kid stunts your growth. Probably why you're so short."

Quinn took a long gulp and flashed a smile. "Fine by me. I happen to like the air down here."

"Okay, so endless reading, consuming copious amounts of black coffee..." Paloma tilted her head just so. "Got any more elderly-like qualities?"

"I used to screw around on the internet sometimes."

Brown eyebrows climbed. "Strict, old Perry allotted you internet access?"

"I told him it was just for school, but, yep. I mean, can't really do much of anything without it, these days. He didn't have much of a choice."

Paloma tried remembering whether or not she'd spotted a computer amongst the hoard during her walk-through the other morning. She conjectured the girl must've been referring to the outdated desktop piled atop of the grime-stricken table in what used to be the living room.

Setting aside her frown, Paloma said, "I'm assuming letting you have a cellphone was out of the question."

Quinn set down her mug, using both hands to point in her sister's direction. "Paloma for the win."

"Well, then, we'll have to change that."

The redhead shook her head feverishly. "You don't have to do that. As you know, I've done pretty well for myself without it—elderly qualities and all."

"It's more for my sanity than it is yours. Although you do need to acquire more youth-friendly hobbies." Her laugh left just as soon as it came. "You need to be able to get ahold of me whenever just in case of an emergency. And vice versa. Don't sweat it, I'll figure it out."

Amiably, Quinn smiled.

"What else do I need to know about you?" Paloma's eyebrows performed a choreographed dance number. "Do you have a boyfriend or, maybe, a girlfriend I don't know about?"

That woke Quinn up far more than the coffee ever could. "Girls aren't really on my radar. But, rest assured, if Uncle Perry even thought there was a potential guy, he'd kill him and I both before any of the fun stuff could even happen."

"The 'fun stuff'?" Paloma grinned over her mug. "Yeah, I'd probably kill you, too."

Quinn fraudulently smacked her lips. "Enough about me. What about you?"

"Well," the brunette practically sang, "I'm dipping into the dating pool. There may or may not be a guy."

"A guy? I thought you were—" Quinn stopped herself just in time, shaking her head. "Sorry."

"Don't be," insisted Paloma. "Ask away."

Quinn grimaced. "I only know what Uncle Perry mentioned a while back. But I wasn't sure if it was true or not, considering we haven't exactly talked since..." Her voice trailed, but it only took a moment for her to find it again. "He told me you liked...women."

In fear of losing her backbone, Paloma stood up straight. "That's partly true. I'm into women, yeah, but, don't get me wrong; guys are pretty dynamite, too."

When Quinn snickered, Paloma set free a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. However, the lighthearted demeanor was flushed away with Quinn's one, simple question.

"...Is that why you never came back to visit?"

After months of battling her own thoughts, Paloma finally gathered the courage to let her parents in on what it was that was making her lose sleep at night. It took no more than five minutes into the scheduled sit-down in her parents' home for the conversation to evolve into a full-on, verbal brawl.

Eventually, it ended with her father raising his voice one good time, immediately bringing the meeting to an end. Paloma gladly stomped out, not letting them witness a second more of her upset.

Quinn, being the oblivious twelve-year-old that she was, stayed upstairs in her room; likely listening to the latest single dropped by The Jonas Brothers. Paloma, on the other hand, hadn't stepped foot inside their house since; not that her parents necessarily wanted her too.

Weeks passed and she'd received as much radio silence from them as she dished out. Not even hearing a word about them from her sister whose calls she refused to answer. But, a two minute visit from a local officer was all it took for her to learn of her parents' apparent demise. It was only then that Paloma was able to mold her melancholy into deep-rooted anger and, as far as she was concerned, that's the way it'd always be.

"Yeah, and I'm sorry. It's just...I told mom and dad that my attraction wasn't just limited to guys and they didn't take it so well."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Paloma ducked her head. "You know how they were. They made it clear that they'd be pissed; like, even more pissed than they were when I told them if I told you. Especially since you were just a little kid. They must've thought I'd 'rub off' on you or something." She mindlessly toyed with her thumbs. "And, I guess, a part of me was also a little worried you wouldn't be okay with it either, given how we were brought up."

To Paloma's surprise, that made Quinn laugh. "Do you at all remember how I was back then? You could've told me you were pullin' a Ted Bundy every night and I still would've worshiped the ground you walked on."

Paloma matched Quinn's wave of laughter, but when it died down, it died fast and hard. "...And now?"

"Well, as long as you're not committing homicide..." Quinn smirked. "It's no different."

The brunette freed the coffee pot of its holder, all the while fighting an ever-growing grin. She topped off Quinn's liquid treat, giving her own the same treatment a second later. Summoning Quinn to a toast, Paloma's eyes—two tender, nut-brown galaxies—washed over the girl.

"Ditto," she promised.