by Casey Ford
Sam is sleeping in the bed with me, a death grip on my hand. I smile at her – I didn’t know she sucks her thumb when sleeping. I think it’s kind of cute. Her arm is in a sling, I’ll find out about that later. Trying to move again awakens Sam. She smiles at me and I smile back.
“Hey.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say. Sam’s eyes grow big.
“ALAN!” Sam yells as she wraps me in a bear hug that sends fresh pangs of pain through my body. I’m enjoying the attention she’s giving me, so I don’t grimace – too much. Sam’s outburst catches the attention of the other people in the room: a doctor, some nurses, my parents, my older brother James, and Nate. They stand around me with concerned looks on their faces.
“How you feeling, Son?” I try to shrug, but pain doesn’t allow it.
“I hurt all over.” That gets the desired chuckle from him. I can see my parents fidget and I know they have something to say to me. I give them a look to tell them to go ahead and ask. My father, John, clears his throat.
“Why were you both out at that time of night?” Nate and my mom get stiff. I’m pretty sure they know the answer, but want to hear from us. It’s Sam who answers.
“You’re taking him away,” she accuses everyone in the room, even the medical staff that has nothing to do with it. I know exactly why she’s so upset–it made me happy, but sad. After what happened to her mom, she started leaning on me more and I allowed her. I enjoyed the attention she gave me and didn’t want to see it disappear. I started thinking of it as actual love.
Knowing it’s not is depressing.
“You said we couldn’t see each other anymore,” I clarify, “so we started to meet up in secret. Sam saw it in a movie or something.” Nate seems to understand.
“We’ve done it every night for a while now,” Sam adds. Realization causes my parents’ eyes to widen.
“You can’t take my best friend away,” I plead with them, “you just can’t.” Nate is nodding his head and my parents seem to understand a bit more. After a long silence, my dad sighs.
“We wanted to separate you two for a more than selfish reason,” he starts. Sam grips my arm tighter. “I got a promotion at work. They want us in Houston in one month.” It takes me a minute to comprehend what my dad just said to us. Sam is faster; she starts tearing up and whispering, “No.”
I’m going to be moving away. Not just moving, but moving across country. That’s too far. Very, very too far. My tears fall unchecked. Sam’s embrace gets stronger. It’s almost like she’s trying to make me stay by holding me here. I get sadder just thinking about it.
“We’ll talk about it later,” my mom says as she grips my foot. “You get some more rest.” Nate reaches to grab Sam and her grip tightens — I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m definitely wrong. She buries her face into my shoulder and refuses to budge. I look around at the room and notice that they don’t seem too surprised by this. I smile and place my hand on her head, petting her until she calms down. Nate abandons his attempt to take her.
“She can stay. She doesn’t bother me at all,” I tell them. “She’ll be easier if you leave her, just ask the doctor.” I can see the disapproval in my parent’s eyes.
“Please,” I beg. Their expressions soften.
“I think that’s okay, I’ll be staying with him tonight anyway,” my mom agrees with a slow nod. My dad comes and rubs his hand over my head messing my hair up.
“Where did my little boy go?” He leans down and kisses the top of my head. “All I see is an old and wise man.” I crack a small, proud smile.
“I’m just going to see them out and get a cot for the room, I’ll be right back,” my mom tells me with a kiss to my forehead. James comes up, grips my shoulder and softly pats Sam’s head.
“You scared me shitless lil’ bro,” he says with a smile, “you just learned your first life lesson. Girls will kill ya,” he finishes with a laugh. One final hug and he follows my parents out the door.
“You take care of my baby, Son.” Nate points at me. I smile larger and nod my head. Sam and I are alone. We both remain silent for a while.
“How did you hurt your arm?” I ask.
“I fell out of the tree next to my window. The doctor says I broke my collar or something,” Sam answers. She broke her collar and still went to meet me? Somehow, I’m not all that surprised by it. It’s definitely something Sam would do.
Nothing keeps her from doing something she sets her mind to doing.
“I thought you were dead,” Sam breaks the lull in the conversation with barely a whisper. I squeeze her tighter.
“Not before you,” I tell her. “I would never leave you alone.” Sam nods her head slowly.
“I’m yours, remember? Nothing can change that.”
Sleep comes easily for both of us.
Chapter Five
Present Day
I’ve slept most of the day after the accident and now the doctor is here to discuss what he did during my surgery. It’s a lot of medical jargon — Souter’s Prosthesis this, Talwalkar Nail that — I tune him out mostly. I’m more interested in when I can start getting out of bed and seeing Sam. My parents are listening to him intently, the x-rays horrify my mother, and my dad seems almost interested. I think he mentioned that he wanted to be a doctor at one point. I wonder what happened to that dream.
He’s been talking for what seems like hours and the frustration is killing me.
Shut up already!
“Yes, yes. We all know you’re a great doctor,” I interrupt his speech about my missing eye. There’s nothing important there; I know all that anyway.
“I want to know how long I have to be stuck in this bed.” I’m extremely irritated at this point.
Where the hell is this anger coming from?
“Alan Rodnam Green!” I hate when they use my middle name like that. It makes me cringe. “You apologize right this instant.” My mother stomps her foot for emphasis. It has the desired affect and my anger slowly retreats. I drop my head and fiddle my thumbs.
“Sorry.” I barely whisper.
“Good.”
“But I really want to know.” God, I sound like a pathetic groupie wanting to know when the band’s coming on.
Desperate.
“I need to know.” I say softer.
Yep, definitely pathetic.
“There’s no way to tell how long you have to stay in bed,” the doctor sighs. “The pain should subside in a few days, but the hardware in your arm will have to stay in for a few weeks.”
So I have a few days in this bed? Great. I’m going to die of boredom and anticipation. Then I have a thought and look up at the doctor.
“What about a wheelchair?” I ask. “Can’t I go and see her in a wheelchair?”
The doctor raises one of his eyebrows.
“You could,” he starts, “but honestly you shouldn’t be moving that much. Your body needs to heal and you moving at all is not going to help you heal any faster.”
So that’s a no. That’s all you had to say. I shoot him an irritated glare.
Asshole.
I really need to get this thing in check. I have no idea why I’m irritated at this guy right now, he’s only doing his job and trying to help me heal. Though, for some reason, I really want to beat the shit out of him. It’s like he’s trying to keep me from Sam.
He’s the one who made me like this.
No. No. I take a deep breath and try to swallow the swell in my chest. I really need to get a grip. I take another deep breath, one more swallow, and the heat behind my ribs starts to shrink. One final breath and it’s gone.
Good to know that breathing helps.
“There is some good news though,” the doctor says.
I still. Is it about Sam?
“You can take your arm out of the sling tomorrow.”
He should have kept his mouth shut. My frustration is growing again.
“Thank you,” is all I can mutter — through my clench
ed jaw — without giving the swell a foothold. This is a full time job, but it’s easier to shove it back this time.
The doctor nods slightly and leaves the room, stopping briefly to whisper to my dad about something. My dad nods and the doctor exits.
The silence between my parents and I is deafening. I really wish they would leave. I love my parents, but they’re getting annoying with all their worrying and hovering. I just want to be alone for a while.
“Hey, my arm is starting to hurt again and it’s about time for my meds.”
Subtle, Alan, real subtle.
My mom looks hurt and my dad comforts her, but neither of them call me on my attitude. I’m definitely the biggest jerk ever at this point.
“You’re right. Of course. It’s getting late as well,” she babbles. “We should be going.”
All I can do is nod. Each one of my parents gives me a kiss and a hug, and then leaves the room. I may not have been lying about my arm hurting, but I feel like it. I used it as an excuse to get rid of my parents. My arm is always hurting — despite the painkillers — it’s not like that fact is going to change just because they leave.
A nurse comes in a few minutes later and adds the pain medication to the IV and the pain in my arm starts to subside. She gives me a comforting smile when I let out a content sigh.
“Does your arm hurt a lot?” she asks as she removes the syringe from the IV. I shake my head.
“Not really,” I answer, “just everything all together.”
She nods with a knowing smile and pats my arm.
“It’ll get better. You just have to give it a little time.” I don’t really believe her words, but I nod anyway. She leaves the room as I slowly fall in to a medicated slumber.
10 Years Ago (Age 10): August
Sam and I have been inseparable since I got out of the hospital. I’m not complaining; I enjoy the attention. The only problem with everything is the tension. We both know that I’ll be moving soon and that has put a huge damper on our time together. It’s sad and scary. I have no idea what I’m going to do without Sam around. She’s been my best friend for almost five years and I can’t imagine trying to find a new best friend, especially one as good as Sam is to me.
We hear my mom banging around in the kitchen getting lunch ready, humming to herself. I wonder what’s causing her to be so happy. She hasn’t packed anything at all today and lately she’s been a packing demon. She’s been constantly yelling and commanding, supervising the entire process. I’ll admit it; I’ve hid in my closet on more than one occasion in fear of the demon who packs.
But she’s not packing now.
“Alan and Samantha, it’s lunch time,” she calls. Sam and I take our positions at the table and eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while my mom cleans the counters. She’s still humming; Sam and I share a look.
“Why are you so happy, Mom?” I have to ask. She’s been so moody lately, snapping at every little thing, that the happy change is jarring. She turns around with a giant smile on her face. It freaks me out that she’s so happy right now.
“I’ll let your father explain,” she answers, “he’ll be here soon with Nate.”
As if on cue, my dad and Nate walk through the front door. They both have the same kind of smiles on their faces. Sam and I share another look and I can tell we’re thinking the same thing.
What are they up to now?
“Good, you’re all here,” my dad exclaims when he enters the room. I scoot closer to Sam and casually take her hand. I have a feeling this is going to be good news, but you can never tell. What’s good news to adults isn’t always good news to us. After taking a deep breath, my dad explains about the smiles.
“We are NOT moving,” he emphasis’ the word ‘not’ for effect. It takes a moment for my brain to comprehend what he just said. I’m not moving, that’s the best news I’ve heard in — well forever.
“The company decided, after a bit of convincing by myself and Nate, that I could be a better asset here and commute to Houston a couple of times a month,” he goes on to explain.
“So that means we can stay here?” I have to ask to make sure I didn’t mishear him. He nods his head wildly, smiles all around. I look to Sam and see her crying her little eyes out, whispering about how good it is that I’m staying.
Sam plants a colossal kiss on my cheek and all the blood rushes to my face.
I smile the biggest smile I can and pull her into an immense bear hug.
Chapter Six
15 Years Ago (Age 5): October
I’m going to meet Sam’s mother for the first time today. Emily. She’s in the kitchen making something. It’s too late for lunch and too early for dinner.
Is it snacks?
“Aren’t you just the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen?” Emily Cohn just about attacks me. Sam stands back and smiles. I think she’s holding a laugh back at my panicked face – in fact, I see her shoulders shake and know she is. Emily has a very strong bear hug.
She puts me down, gets very serious, and points her finger at me, which actually scares me more than the sudden attack.
“I better not ever hear about you placing a bun in my little girl’s oven,” she scolds.
Huh?!
I’m really confused. What does she mean “bun in her oven”? I glance over at the oven and then at Sam. She looks almost as confused as I feel. I look back to Mrs. Cohn.
“Isn’t that what they’re made for?” is all I can think of to say. Emily looks at me for a very uncomfortable minute and then bursts into laughter. She’s just about rolling on the floor. I look at Sam to help me figure out what’s going on and she just shrugs her shoulders. Eventually, her mom stops laughing and places a hand on my shoulder.
“You are a great kid and I’d be glad if it’s you that places that bun.”
“T-Thank you,” I say even more confused than before. I have come to the conclusion that Emily is crazy, or she has no idea what she’s talking about. Emily smiles brightly and I notice that she has the same smile that Sam does.
Present Day
It’s still dark when I wake from my dream. I hate dreaming about Emily, it really messed Sam up when she left.
Thinking about Sam makes me want to see her.
Taking a quick look at the door, I notice that none of the nurses are watching me. Good. I slowly scoot closer to the edge of the bed. I don’t want to make any noise that will alert them to what I’m doing.
Reaching the edge of the bed, I roll to my stomach — holding my IV hand to the bag side to keep it from pulling — and I slide off. Testing the strength of my legs, I slowly stand up, holding onto the bed for support.
Good, they seem to be holding my weight.
Thinking I’m good was a mistake. As soon as I try to take a step, my legs collapse and I hit the floor, hard. Everything is black.
I slowly come back to consciousness in my bed. A nurse is fussing around me as I groan from a headache that feels like my head is a balloon about to pop. She shoots me the dreaded look of disapproval. I know the look well, my mother wears it better than the nurse does, but it’s not nearly as effective as it is right now.
I feel like crap.
“You shouldn’t try that again, Alan,” she tells me. “You pulled the IV out and almost gave yourself another concussion.” I can feel that much. The fall must have done something to me, because I can feel tears start to form in my eyes. The nurse also notices it.
“Are you in pain?” she asks me. I blink back the tears and swallow the lump in my throat.
“I just want to see her,” I whimper. “I need to see her. I’m going crazy thinking about it.”
The nurse looks at me for a moment. What is she thinking about? Does she think I’m as pathetic as I feel?
“Tell you what,” she sighs, “you stay in bed until I get in tomorrow and I’ll see if I can get you permission to take a wheelchair up to see her.” She looks at me. “We got a deal?”
Can I d
o that? Hell yeah I can.
“I can do that. It’s a deal,” I agree. She beams a brilliant smile at me. She’s a pretty little thing, nothing on Sam, but still pretty.
“Great. Now get some sleep.” She starts to help me with the blankets. “We gave you some more medication so you should sleep for a while longer.” I thank her as she leaves the room.
I start thinking about the escape attempt I just tried. My body stopped working just as I thought I was home free. My body is even too weak to get out of bed. I hate the feeling of weakness. Sam hasn’t called me a pansy since we were thirteen. I worked hard to strike that stigma from my name.
Well, I feel like a pansy right now.
The swell in my chest bursts into a full-fledged inferno. I reach over, grab the vase of flowers, and throw it against the wall across the room. The anger I feel towards the driver of the truck that hit us, the anger at the doctors for keeping me here, my anger at my parents for not telling me what’s happening with Sam, and — most of all — my anger at myself for being this weak explodes into full blown and unbridled rage.
Yes, that’s what this ball is… Rage.
“GODDAMN IT!” I scream at the top of my lungs, collapsing into angry sobs, as the glass vase shatters, mimicking my feelings.
Chapter Seven
11 Years Ago (Age 9): March
Sam and her mother have one day a week where they spend the day together doing girl things. Sam loves it, despite her being the biggest tomboy ever. I usually have no idea what to do when she has these days, but this time I get to go along. Apparently, they’re just planning to go to a movie and it was a movie Sam and I had talked about seeing together. Emily agreed to allow me to see it too.
Sam and I sit next to each other and Emily sits next to Sam as the movie starts. Before long I forget that Emily is here, Sam and I are having so much fun.
Suddenly, Emily starts coughing.