NORMAL

by Danielle Pearl

  That day, I cut phys ed and head home one period early. I make myself a snack and work on my English paper. Restless, I leave a little earlier than usual to make my five thirty appointment. At five after, I sign in and, as always, wonder why they even keep a sign-in sheet when they remove it after each patient to ensure confidentiality. I'm reading on my tablet when the front door opens and, to utter my astonishment, in walks Sam.

  My mouth gapes open. What the hell is he doing here?

  "Rory?" he asks. He seems as confused as I am.

  Just then, the door to Dr. Schall's office opens and out walks a girl of about fifteen or sixteen and though her hair is blonde, her unmistakable midnight blue eyes tell me immediately who she is.

  "Hiya Sammy," she murmurs nonchalantly. She doesn't seem like a girl who tried to kill herself in the past year, but maybe I don't look like what I actually am either.

  "Hey Bits," he replies softly. And I understand. Bits's doctor's appointment. I swallow anxiously.

  "Bits, this is, uh, Rory, my friend I told you about. Rory, this is my sister."

  Bits seems confused, and maybe a little annoyed. I realize she probably thinks Sam brought me with him to pick her up, and that would be a pretty egregious invasion of privacy since this is clearly a therapist's office.

  "I, um, have an appointment with Dr. Schall. At five thirty," I explain nervously.

  This is so damn awkward. I remind myself that Sam already knows I have issues. He's seen my prescription bottle, obviously they were prescribed by a doctor.

  And I don't even know Bits, and anyway she obviously has issues too. She wouldn't judge me, would she?

  She visibly relaxes at my explanation. "Well that is some coincidence," she says with a warm smile. Sam and I still have our gazes locked, but neither of us speak. I wonder if he knows that Dr. Schall specializes is teen victims of violence and abuse. God, of course he does! He must. His sister sees him, and obviously her family - her wealthy family who could afford any doctor they chose - did their research before choosing him. Part of the reason my mom joined the big firm was because their insurance covered him. I run through some of the crazy things I've said or done in front of Sam since we've met and realize that he's probably already deduced that I'm a victim of something. Seeing me here shouldn't change anything, but God, why won't he say anything?

  "You're going to be joining us for dinner, aren't you, Rory?" Bits asks, in a clear attempt to break the tension. I turn to her and force a small smile.

  "Um, yeah. After my, uh, appointment. Sam tutors me for calculus and we have a big test tomorrow," I explain.

  "Great, looking forward to it," she replies and starts toward the door. Dr. Schall comes out from his office and shakes my hand. It took us a few sessions before I felt comfortable shaking his hand, but lately it's been fine.

  "Come on in, Rory," he invites.

  "Yeah, me too, see you later," I murmur back to Bits. Sam is still just staring at me.

  "Uh, later, Ror," he mutters before following his sister out the door.

  ****

  The day's rain has let up into a light drizzle when I leave the office an hour later.

  No.

  No, no no! Shit!

  I left my headlights on. Who does that? Shit!

  I unlock my jeep and get in. I insert the key into the ignition, pray, and turn.

  Please please please...

  My engine growls, but doesn't spark to life.

  I try again. Fuck.

  My mom is working late tonight and she won't be home until eight. Okay, well I can't stay out here, because I can't be alone, even in my car, out at night.

  It's dark. And desolate.

  Okay, Rory, don't panic.

  I scurry back inside the office, but only make it to the vestibule. The office door is locked. I ring the buzzer, but there's no response, and after trying twice more and knocking until my knuckles hurt, I realize Dr. Schall and his receptionist must have left through the back. I'd forgotten about the back door. I take out my phone to call Carl, but find myself dialing Sam.

  "Rory?" he answers.

  "Hey," I greet, trying to remain calm. I take a deep, steadying breath. "Look, I left my headlights on and my car won't start. I'm still at Dr. Schall's," I say shakily. I'm trying to keep it together, but I'm frightened, and I know he can hear it in my voice.

  "I'll be right there, stay inside." In the background I can hear that he's already on the move, which calms me a little.

  "Everyone already left. I didn't notice, when I was trying to get my car to start. I can't get back in, I'm in the vestibule," I say a little less shakily, but not by much.

  "Everything's going to be fine, Rory. Just stay in the vestibule, if there's a lock you can turn from the inside, do it. Otherwise, just stay inside and I'll see you in ten minutes, okay?"

  "Okay." There is a lock, so I turn it and relax a little further. Sam takes an audibly deep breath.

  "You want me to stay on the phone with you?" he offers. And I know I should say no, that I'm already burdening him enough this evening with having me over for dinner, teaching me calculus, and now having to rescue me from my own stupidity.

  "If you don't mind," I say instead, the potency of my accent surprising even myself.

  "I don't mind, Rory. Of course not," he replies, and goes on to apologize about freezing earlier, explaining that he was just surprised to see me here.

  I tell him not to worry about it and that I was kind of stunned, too. I say Bits seems nice, because she does, and we chat about nothing and everything while he drives and I try not to freak out. He talks more about Miami, and promises it'd be no imposition to get me my own room. He even quizzes me on math.

  When he gets here, he instructs me to wait until he gets to the door to unlock the bolt, and I do. I only hang up when he's right outside the door, and I don't know why, but as soon as I'm out of the vestibule I step into his arms without even thinking and they wrap around me immediately.

  Now, finally, I relax.

  "Thanks," I murmur, stepping out from our hug.

  "No problem, Ror. Come on, I forgot an umbrella when I rushed out," he says and grabs my hand to lead me in a hurried jog to his Escalade.

  When we're safely inside the car I turn to look at him, only vaguely registering that I'm alone, in a car, with a guy, and I'm not afraid. This is a trigger for me. A big one. And yet... nothing.

  "I'm real sorry about this," I murmur. Damn, I sound so southern, so damsel in distress, and it's the last thing I want to be in front of him.

  "It happens, no big deal. But I don't have jumper cables in my car and it's really coming down out there. Are you cool to leave your car here overnight?" he asks.

  "I guess, but what about school-"

  "I'll drive you."

  ****

  We pull up to his red brick colonial just after seven. It's a really nice house. Big, but not obnoxiously so. A traditional French style crystal chandelier hangs in the enormous window overlooking the mahogany front door which is open behind a glass screen door. I'm feeling disheveled, and I'm sure I look it, too. My clothes and hair are damp from the rain and it's less than ideal for meeting Sam's family. Sam keeps driving around to the side of the house and pulls into the garage, on account of the rain no doubt.

  I get out and look around. It's been professionally designed and organized, that's for certain. Black and white rubber tiles cover the concrete making the garage feel like a room in the house. The back and side walls are all done in custom cabinetry and there's a huge Subzero party fridge as well.

  Sam takes my hand and leads me up the three steps to what I assume is the back hall. It leads around one corner, past one bedroom and a guest bathroom, right into the kitchen which smells delicious but is empty of people.

  "Mom! Bits!" Sam calls out. "We're here!"

  Footsteps pad from above and down the back staircase next to the kitchen, and Sam's sister appears.

  "Hi guys, Mom's just on the
phone with Aunt Cathy, she'll be right down," she says. "Nice to see you again. Just so you know, Sam and Mom are the only people who call me Bits. My actual name is Beth," she says with a amiable smile.

  "Well it's nice to meet you Bits, Beth, whichever you prefer," I reply.

  She shrugs. "Honestly, it doesn't make the slightest difference to me what you call me."

  "I like Bits," I admit.

  "Me too," she replies and smiles conspiratorially. "I'll get the food on the table. Maybe Sammy can give you a tour," she suggests and I laugh.

  "Sure, Sammy, that would be great," I tease with an innocent smile, batting my eyelashes at him.

  Sam rolls his eyes and hooks his arm around my shoulder to lead me out of the kitchen down another hall. "She likes you," he murmurs. "She's not usually so open with new people."

  "I like her, too."

  Sam shows me the main foyer which leads on one side to a formal dining room and to a family room on the other. Straight back is a grand "great room", which my house - either of them - certainly doesn't have. It's all decorated in transitional furniture and decor - somewhat traditional with contemporary accents. Either it was professionally decorated or Sam's mom has a knack for interior design.

  When we return to the kitchen, Bits is still busy getting the food together. "Almost ready, go show her upstairs, it'll be ready when you're done," she calls back to us without looking.

  Sam looks down at me inquisitively.

  "Calculus," I murmur. The truth is, I think I would be okay walking around upstairs alone with him, I really do. But I'm not sure, I can't be sure, perhaps I'll never be sure, and I can't risk having a panic attack tonight. Not here. And for that reason, I use our safe word.

  "Oh, you'll have plenty of time to study after dinner," Bits mutters flippantly and Sam and I exchange secretive grins. I chose a good safe word.

  Sam's mom comes around the corner from the main foyer and introduces herself as Elaine Caplan. She's absolutely beautiful, but looking at her children, I'd expect nothing less. Bits got her blonde hair from her mom, but Elaine's is shoulder length and layered, and her eyes are brown, similar to mine.

  She invites us to sit at the kitchen table and serves me chicken breast with rice pilaf and steamed vegetables. It's really rather good. We chat about school, and they ask minimal questions about my life before I moved here, and I wonder if Sam warned them not to pry into my past. I don't know if I'm grateful or annoyed if he did.

  We study in the dining room after dinner and by the time Sam guarantees me a ninety or better, I'm already half exhausted. My phone buzzes.

  Shit, it's my mom. It's almost ten and I haven't checked in since she called me when she got home around a quarter after eight and I told her about my car. Sam's gathering up our practice tests as I answer.

  "Hi, mom. I'm fine, just finishing up now," I answer.

  "Rory, do you know how worried I've been? I've been calling for thirty minutes!" she shouts, obviously frazzled. My mother used to be a totally laid back parent. She got passionately riled up about clients and causes, but me she trusted implicitly. And while I think she still trusts me for the most part, my judgment is another story.

  She was truly shocked to the bone to learn what had happened, what had been happening for so long right under her nose. I know in many ways she blamed herself. Blames herself. Not as much as she blames my father though, and I think that actually helped with her self-recrimination. But the bottom line is that since everything came out, she's been making up for lost time, so to speak. She checks in with me every couple of hours when I'm out, where we used to go full days without connecting. She makes sure to be home to have dinner with me most week nights unless she has to work late, where I used to eat alone or next door with Cam.

  "Sorry, I've been studying. I told you. My phone was on vibrate in my bag. I didn't hear it," I explain.

  "God, Rory. I've been imagining all kinds of things. I don't even know this Sam person! How do I know-"

  "Mom, calm down. Sam's my friend, okay? I told you. We're not even alone. I'm fine. I mean it," I reassure her. From hands-off parent to helicopter in less than a year.

  I can see that Sam is looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and though he's trying to feign disinterest in a conversation that is clearly about him, I know he hears every word - at least my end.

  My mom sighs. "Alright, why don't you give me his address and I'll come pick you up?"

  "It's fine, Mom, I told you he would drive me home."

  "Aurora, that boy has spent his evening rescuing you from a dead car battery and teaching you math, give him a break-"

  "Alright one sec!" I cut her off. She's driving me crazy. I hate when she calls me 'Aurora', it just reminds me of my father. And the truth is I feel guilty, because this isn't her. This isn't the Amy Pine I grew up with. This is a woman who had the rug pulled out from under her in the worst way, all because of me, and who lost her husband and her home in the fallout. And she's right about me burdening Sam, too.

  I peek over at Sam who's given up on pretending not to be paying attention. "Everything okay?" he asks tentatively.

  I nod. "Yeah, my mom is just lecturing me on imposing on people. She wants to come pick me up to save you the drive, but I don't even know the address here," I reply.

  Sam rolls his eyes. "Imposing? Don't be ridiculous, you just said it yourself, 'Sayum's mah friend, okay?'" he teases in an exaggeratedly southern Rory voice that sounds more like Scarlet O'Hara than me. I giggle and cover the mic on my phone.

  "I don't mind driving you, really," he adds sincerely.

  "Yeah but you have to drive me to school in the morning too, my mom leaves too early to get to the city for work-"

  Sam has taken two long-legged steps and is suddenly right in front of me. He places his hand gently on my upper arm. "I'm driving you home, like I said I would, and tomorrow I'll drive you to school, like I said I would. You wouldn't be calling it an imposition if I was Carl, and if you were Tuck you'd be demanding I take you through the drive-thru for takeout on the way."

  I stare at him, bemused, because I know he's right, and he slowly takes my phone from my hand and proceeds to introduce himself to my mother, assure her that it's no imposition to give me a ride, that I'd do the same for him, and that I've actually done him a favor by forcing him to study for our test. When he hands me back the phone, my mom is calm and there is a smile in her voice.

  "See you soon, honey," she sings, and hangs up.

  What has Sam done to my mother?

  ****

  On the ride home I once again marvel at how comfortable I am in a situation that is, in itself, one of my most precarious triggers. I remember the last time I was alone in a car with a man - when Sheriff Chipley, my own friend's father, gave me a ride home from his office last May. I freaked out. When he parked in front of my house I tried the door handle, but it was locked. When I turned to him, he was facing me, not getting out of the car like I'd expected. In retrospect it was likely that he was simply poised to offer me some comforting words, since he turned out to be one of the few people to actually stand by me through the aftermath, but in that moment all I knew was complete terror. I actually smacked him, screamed, cried, hyperventilated, and ended up spending that night in the hospital.

  But right now, alone with Sam, who outwardly seems to have a lot in common with Robin, I feel no fear. Because I believe that inside, Sam and Robin couldn't possibly be more different. Sam is slowly earning my trust - something that just over a month ago I'd never have thought possible - and I smile to myself at the thought.

  "What's with the secret smile?" Sam asks, breaking me out of my thoughts. I look over at him and consider him a moment before deciding to simply tell him the truth.

  "I beat a trigger," I reply proudly.

  "Oh yeah? Which one is that?"

  "I'm in the car with you. Alone. And I'm not panicking. I'm not even scared," I admit, unable to keep the self-satisfaction out of my voice
. In fact, I sound downright boastful. Sam continues to look between me and the road.

  "Was that trigger specific to me? Or guys? Or being alone with anyone?" he asks.

  "Guys. Men. Being alone with a guy in general is... well I haven't been in almost a year, anyway. Except for you, obviously. But in a car... I never thought I'd be able to do it again, to be honest. Not ever," I admit, wondering why I feel so compelled to answer him when he asks me a question, even an inherently personal one.

  Sam considers my words then nods. "It's the safe word... See? I told you it would work. You're comfortable because you know that if I do something to bug you all you have to do is say one word and I'll back off," he explains.

  I think about his explanation and determine that while the safe word has definitely helped in the way he's described, it really worked more as a facilitator than anything. Because while I may not have had "calculus" to say before, I still had "no" and "stop" and all the others, and I know better than anyone that with the wrong person, no word, safe or otherwise, is worth a damn.

  "It's not just the safe word and you know it," I whisper.

  We've stopped at a red light and Sam is looking at me intently. "Like I've said, you're stronger than you think you are, Ror," he replies.

  I shrug and look away. I'm still not sure he's right about that one. When the light is green again Sam's eyes return to the road and he drives on.

  "Are you coming to Andrew's tomorrow night? I think it's gonna be a smaller thing, not a big party," he changes the subject.

  "No, I can't. My mom's friend is coming to visit and we're going out to dinner," I explain. One of her closest friends from childhood is coming out from the city and my mom is really looking forward to it. Even though my mom works in Manhattan, she rarely has time to do anything social, she even usually works through lunch or has to meet with clients.

  "You and your mom are pretty close, huh? I mean you're always saying you have to have dinner with her..."